Midday had long passed and the harsh heat of the pens was beginning to take its toll on Kaspia, when a guard decided it was time to open her pen with a loud creak. The face of an ugly brute of a man, pox marked and with one missing, stared at the mass of elven men and women who had been put in the pen like animals. His long but thin black hair clung to his face in wisps and his grin missing several teeth underneath a long but crooked and misshapen nose. No doubt this guardsman had been on the losing side of more than a few fistfights.
“You, wench! Get over here, it’s your turn,” he growled menacingly while pointing his club towards Kaspia.
His eyes burned into her as she rose to step closer. Pausing, heart pounding, breath shallow, she looked around her. Even if she could get past this ugly elf she had nowhere to go, the pens were surrounded by stone walls and guardsmen at every gate. Kaspia's mind raced with possibilities and scenarios in a desperate attempt to find a way out of this situation.
What was it Beoria had said? Trial under the Broken pantheon, exorcism.
“Better die than lose the ounce of power I’ve got,” Kaspia mumbled to herself through grit teeth.
Her eyes met the guards and her vision turned red as she let rage and fear claw their way out, not holding back as more maggots than ever before borrowed under her skin. Her mind shifted, what fools to corner a caged beast, she’d show these feeble guards what true might was by tearing limb from limb.
Suddenly, the guard broke the silence with a sinister laugh. He pulled her neck with a yank, dragging her back to reality, cold chills running down her spine as the power within writhed away.
“What did you think would happen?” he sneered menacingly. “Ignorant gutter trash.”
The guard reached out and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, pulling her close until their noses almost touched. His breath reeked of wine and his face was twisted as he spoke in a low voice filled with menace.
“You're not going anywhere but if you ever try and use that barbaric technique on me ever again I will make you wish for Tartarus.”
Then he shoved her away from him and back towards the pen, pushing her hard enough that she stumbled backwards. Only before regaining her balance as she hit the pen.
“What’s the hold up?” Another guard shouted. From his garb, an ornate chestplate that gleamed like yellow gold and with flowing sand colored cloth replacing the yellow shirts that the guard in Valium wore he was most likely the leader of the guards shouted at the ugly one “Get the next one over here!”
“Stay strong girl, this doesn’t have to be the end!” Beoria shouted after her.
As Kaspia slowly walked on with her head bowed low in submission, the large woman's words echoed through her mind like thunder: “Stay strong girl, this doesn’t have to be the end."
The guard had finally had enough of her not moving. Without warning or hesitation he jabbed his wooden club hard against her side causing immense pain that forced her onto all fours on the dirt covered ground of the courtyard. His grip now tight on Kaspia’s ankle he began to drag her backward away from the pens until they reached the courthouse where an intimidating door guarded by two large figures which seemed almost impossible to pass through led into its depths.
Too afraid to move or speak now but with Beoria’s words still ringing in her ears she watched helplessly from the ground as the guard opened up the door with a loud creak. It swung open revealing nothing but a long hallway inside and yet somehow it managed to create more fear within Kaspia than any situation before had ever done.
After the guard let go of her ankle she was prodded to her feet and made to move forward into the hallway. The building didn’t look majestic any more. Majesty turned dark and foreboding in Kaspia’s eyes.
Shuffling forward at the guard’s insistence her heart sank and gloom spread across her mind. She felt betrayed by Redhand, how foolish she had been when she had made herself believe that he had a way out for them. He was selfish and never cared for his crew, she had always known that deep down but this made it crystal clear. Even Beoria, tall and strong, whose words of encouragement propped her up couldn't help her.
Kaspia swore to herself that if she made it through whatever fate had in store for her here she would never rely on others again. She would have to find another way to grow strong. Even though joining the crew had been her only option upon arriving in the city as a refugee she felt that death was better than what she had become for she knew she was little more than a rabid animal. If she ever got a second chance she was going to have to carry herself without relying on others. That or she would die trying.
The hallway she found herself in was made from the whitest marble and adorning the walls were colorful pictures of heroic Elmaesta, vicious barbarians, animals and beasts. She saw paintings all along the walls depicting soldiers in the sleek armor of the old empire fighting her enemies while desperately defending the Summer elves homeland on the peninsula. Satyrs, centaurs and dryads from the vast forests beyond the Shield mountains as well as fallen tribes of their elven brethren and barbaric men who had in ancient times descended from the mountain passes. Back before the legions had formed to brush opposition aside, subjugating those who opposed the Emaesta, elevating those deemed worthy under the sun and spreading the light of civilization to the world beyond.
As she walked through the hall the paintings slowly changed from desperate fights, filled with last stands against overwhelming odds to heroes arising amidst the carnage to turn the tide. She saw elven kings from the wild beyond the shield mountains kneeling to strong generals of the empire whilst offering all they possessed in tribute and barbarian men left with the choice chains or submission to the ways of rule of the Elmaesta.
As she meandered down the dim hallway, a strange pride of a lost empire, a time she had little to do with and knew even less about squirmed itself into her mind. She knew that Valium and all the lands on her side of the mountains were once the heartland of a grand empire, yet it had fallen many generations ago.
Every step down the hallway felt like an eternity; as if every tap of her feet against the cold ground echoed through time, reminding her of whatever secrets this long-forgotten building held. She could feel their presence tangibly in the air around her; like shadows lingering in its dark corners, squirming their way into her mind.
The wall paintings had seen better days; faded and cracked over the years, each one seemed to whisper something different - a story untold that nobody else could hear. She ran her fingers along the wall, feeling a chill pass through her body as if there were some hidden force nestled away here that did not want her meddling around in its affairs.
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The hallway stretched on, ominously opening up into an amphitheater used by the court. Atop a raised stage sat three Magistrates - two older elven men with hair of silver falling to their waists and between them a tired looking woman who twiddled a feather between her fingers whilst staring into the distance. Gathered opposed to the magistrates, a sparse and whispering crowd of gawkers huddled along long rows of benches that surrounded the central floor in a semicircle. Kaspia was led to the center of the floor with two guards standing steadfastly at either side of her. She craned her neck upward as the bored female Magistrate finally acknowledged that she had entered the room, her voice echoing off cold stone walls as she looked from Kaspia to one of the older elven magistrates next to her.
“Calariano, be so kind as to make a note that a new subject has entered the court.”
The magistrate cleared her throat before continuing in a slow, deliberate tone. “Prisoner, declare your name,” each word heavy with implications and portentousness.
Something tingled in the back of her mind, a thought, a whisper, she should give haste to answer and before she knew it words almost spilled out from her mouth on their own.
“Power, she's got powers just like me but different,” she thought to herself and the tingle at the back of her mind turned into a coiling knot. Her vision began to grow dimmer and her back started to arch as she felt a pressure pushing her down on both mind and body.
“Kaspia is my given name,” Kaspia admitted. Not able to resist whatever it was that the woman was doing.
“You are accused of a heinous crime; stealing from the Steadfast company and being affiliated with a notorious criminal organization. Do you deny these allegations?” The woman spat her words out, her icy gaze burning with disdainful contempt.
Kaspia’s heart thudded in her chest as the Magistrate’s words compelled her to confess. She fought against the pull, fists clenching into tight balls. Her face grew hot and flush, and she could feel a trickle of sweat running down the back of her neck. She tried to find her voice, to conjure up a way out of this situation, but none came. The air in the courtroom seemed too thick to breathe. Her face grew hot and sweat ran down her neck as she fought against the urge to tell everything she knew about Redhand and her crimes with his crew.
Pushed to her knees, back arced and unable to do anything but stare up at the ceiling. Gods she wished to speak yet refused to do so. The female magistrate continued to peruse the documents before her, seemingly oblivious to Kaspia's plight. When, suddenly, she looked up from her papers to glance down at the girl who should have screamed in anguish, giving the court every confession, every name she knew. At first she smirked, a challenging pet could be fun distraction for a moment but when the girl refused to give in, a flash of irritation flitted across the woman’s features. She barked an order at one of the guards.
“Trial under the Broken pantheon!”
A murmur and a few shouts went through the audience who had been bored up until this moment.
“Get her into the circle!” the magistrate shouted in command.
The words sent a shiver up Kaspias spine. Was this what Beoria had warned her about, what was going to happen?
A guard's calloused hands dug into her arm, practically lifting her off the ground as he dragged her across the stage. She gasped at the sight before her, a red painted circle rimmed with flickering candles and tall jars of incense, casting a heavy haze around an altar in its center. An earthenware bowl filled with murky liquid was flanked by a thick iron needle rising menacingly from it, its surface still glistening with old blood.
“Calariano, will you do the honor?” the magistrate asked one of the old elves by her side.
He pushed himself up and grasped for a long staff, then walked out of her view, the sound of his footsteps echoing down a hallway nearby. Kaspia felt her wrists clench as iron chains were latched around them, binding her to the floor in a circle. She squinted through tears of fear at the figure of Calariano approaching with a living chicken flapping in his hands. He moved slowly towards the altar and began to chant in a strange tongue, each syllable sending chills through her flesh.
A deafening silence blanketed the crowd as Calariano, obviously a priest of the broken pantheon, raised his ceremonial dagger high. A prayer to the father of the valley, the virtuous leader of war slipped off of his lips like a chilling whisper in the wind. “In the name of the Warleader, we seek to judge you. If this girl carries an affront to our fair people, let the God of virtue render his sentence!” With venomous prejudice, he drove the blade deep into the chicken’s stomach.
The chicken struggled as its life-force left it, entrails and blood spilling out into the ceremonial bowl on the altar. After discarding the chicken by throwing it at the onlookers in the audience who scrambled over the prize. The priest grabbed a hold of Kaspias’ hand, pulling it towards the needle. Unable to resist his strength in the least, she could only watch as her hand was pushed down on the needle as it went straight through her hand. The priest pulled the hand back, he moved it over the bowl and squeezed hard. Blood dripped rapidly into the bowl with chicken intestines and blood. After filling it up to his satisfaction the priest released her hand and continued his chant.
“Oh mighty pantheon, receive this offering of life and render your divine judgment upon the blasphemous soul!”
Kaspia watched in terror as the blood-filled bowl with intestines began to bubble and a thick fog arose like a murky monster. It swirled around the circle, whirling faster and faster like a maelstrom until Kaspia could no longer make out what was on the other side. The scent of putrid death mixed pungently with fragrant incense filled her nostrils and clogged her lungs. Coughing, she fought not to take a breath as the fog suddenly lunged towards her like a striking snake, plunging through her open mouth and down her throat. She was overcome by fear, the strange fog roiling inside her as if looking for something. It ripped and tugged, scouring her very spirit to pieces looking for something that hid inside her. Moments felt like eons as time passed before, finally, the air rushed out of her again, leaving her violated and trembling on the ground.
After what felt like an eternity but was most likely just a short moment she raised her head and looked up as the last traces of mist left her. Before her it congealed and started to coalesce in front of her. An ethereal light shone across the audience, hushing their raucous cheering to a whisper. An ethereal figure ran its fingers through the air, calmly tending animals with a soft, caring touch before leading them towards a trail through a meadow. Though they were enraptured by awe, the crowd soon groaned with disappointment as the figure faded away. However, it didn’t end there, much to Kaspias’ dismay the mist took another shape. This one portrayed a thuggish brute with a dagger in hand. The figure radiated a wicked intent that was palpable in the air and the audience started to holler in excitement.
The mist turned a dark red as it transformed into an immense swirling spear that lunged for Kaspias’ chest. Piercing her as she let out a scream in agony. She screamed in pain as it penetrated her body, pulses of searing heat ravaged through her body in waves, scouring her body, looking for something. Her body turned semi translucent and shook as the very core of her being fought with desperation to hold on, to stay sane. However her fate was already determined. The power before her orders of magnitude stronger than her and as time passed it ripped a writhing mass of worms out from her flesh and the spear of mist swallowed them whole, greedily consuming the only power she had managed to scrounge up for herself.
Then she found herself laying on the ground, having fallen over as the spear withdrew and slowly lost its form, dissipating into mist. She barely heard the words spoken by the magistrate.
“You are deemed guilty in the eyes of the Broken Pantheon, as the highest of powers has judged you. The verdict has fallen, guilty on all charges. Let it be known that this one is to be sold into forced labor in order to repay her debt for crimes against the gods and to this fair city. The indenture contract is set to ten years. As the gods wills it,” the magistrate said with finality.
Kaspia barely heard the words in her weakened state before the guards finally dragged her out of the amphitheater. As she was dragged out, she finally lost consciousness. Mother, father, brother, I'm broken. Wait for me on the plains of Elysium.