The Brightest Shadow, page 35
"We aren't going to seize Bundlin," one of the Deathspawn said. Reedy little man, didn't look like he should be holding a spear at all. "Rumor has it we're moving out."
"Moving out? Based on how it went after the fighting, I thought you were taking over."
"Don't know the reason, but that's what they say."
Well, that information would earn him a lot of money. But Bhufel had in mind some easier profits first, so he just tucked the fact away and adopted a huge smile. "I reckon you boys will still be hungry while you wait to leave, though. Reckon we can make a deal?"
They could. Coin exchanged hands and life went on.
Part 3
Records of Nothing
Chapter 23
-
"I would like to say that I understand the need for all this, but the truth is that I don't. My ability to execute my orders will be limited until I understand their purpose. I am formally requesting more information from high command."
- Commander Kolanin, head of operations at Ith Ire
-
Pitch black crushed him from all sides. When he tried to move, he realized he was surrounded by water, pressing down as if trying to suffocate him. For a time, he couldn't remember who he was and wondered if he should just let it break him.
Slaten felt something hard beneath him. Ground. He couldn't remember why, but he fought against the water. Pressed his feet against the base and looked upward. His world extended pitch black in every direction, yet the surface must be opposite the ground. Though he was running out of air, he had to try to survive.
As much as the water hurt him, he pushed off the ground with everything he had. Tried to swim with aching muscles, dragging himself upward. The pressure seemed to be lessening, he could barely see something pale ahead. But his lungs ached, it felt like he had nothing left in them. Slaten threw his remaining strength into thrashing wildly, throwing himself higher.
But when he used up everything he had, he was still far from the surface. He couldn't hold out, his mouth opened and the water rushed in, agony shooting through his body...
Yet he didn't die.
As the pain continued to wrack his body, vague memories drifted alongside him. This wasn't real. The water could cause him pain, but it couldn't kill him. Slaten coughed violently, expelling the water. That left him with an ache through his chest, but one he could endure. His body began to move mechanically, pulling him closer to the surface.
Slowly the water grew lighter around him. He could see the surface, growing closer, giving his tired body new strength. With each stroke he stretched out, fingers hoping to break into the air.
They touched ice. It burned, his fingers shaking from the pain. Slaten jerked his hand back, staring upward and realizing that he saw not the surface, but a vast layer of ice. He started to drift down, pure despair clawing through him, yet some other instinct made him reach out and touch the burning ice again.
The slightest touch sent agonizing pain up his arm, yet he ran his fingers along the surface. And eventually he felt the crack.
His memories came back in a burning rush. He had floated to the surface before and struck this ice. How many times, he had no idea. His life consisted of nothing but these depths - no, all that mattered was the ice in front of him now.
Slaten jammed one hand into the crack, screaming as the ice bit down into his flesh. But once he had a grip, he began to smash his other hand into the cracked area, over and over. It didn't give way, yet he felt the ice around his other hand grinding as it shifted.
He struck repeatedly until his hand was a bloody stump, then began slamming his head against the ice. Closer. There was something beyond it, he was sure. Slaten fixed his eyes on that, tried to burn the memory of it into his mind. The pain overwhelmed him now, but he held firm to those few thoughts. This wasn't real. He could survive. The cracks were growing.
Then his mind gave out completely and he fell away, drifting into the depths, staring up at the retreating ice as his memories started to give way.
Falling toward the bottom.
Again.
~ ~ ~
Slaten woke with a scream in his throat, yet his body locked in place. It took him all his strength just to swallow, then to open his eyes. The rest of his body protested, twitching feebly.
For a moment he was dumbfounded to see stone bricks instead of ice. Air against his skin instead of water felt strange and the lack of pressure disoriented him. The false memories started to fall away as he remembered the ordeal that must have been only in his mind.
At the end, he remembered the ice beginning to break apart. He'd thrown himself into the crack, crawling through the knives of ice, screaming in an agony that put all previous pain to shame. His vision had gone black and he'd wondered if he would truly die.
And then he'd woken up.
Slowly managing to roll onto his side, Slaten discovered that he lay on a stone floor in what appeared to be a small cell. He was wearing nothing but a ragged tunic and the entire room smelled of shit and piss. When he rolled to his front he managed to stick out his arms and prop himself up. As he pushed himself up his chest heaved, yet there was nothing inside him to expel.
As he stayed there, struggling just to stay upright, Slaten stared at his arms. They looked too thin - no, his entire body had become thinner. It felt like his body had deteriorated, yet his sein... it flowed through his veins like ice, focused as if he was exercising. Slaten had to close his eyes and concentrate to make it stop, let it finally flow normally within him again.
Instantly he dropped to the cell floor, aching all over. His sein felt like a muscle that had been held taut for far too long, spasming as it finally relaxed. It was going to take him a long time to adjust to this change, but right now he was just glad to get it under control.
After several shuddering breaths with his cheek to the stone, Slaten crawled to his feet. Three walls of stone, one of metal bars with a cell door. He crawled his way over to it and pulled himself up using the bars, trying to look outward. A dimly lit corridor, more stone and other cells visible. After taking a moment to recover his strength, he struck the bars several times.
The sound wasn't loud, but he heard a voice from down the corridor. At first it was just an incomprehensible growl, then he realized that it was Futhik.
"-ram it up your ass unless you shut up an-" A Deathspawn man appeared in front of his cell, eyes widening. For a moment he just stared, then he gave an odd smile and switched to Coran. "Well, fuck me! You actually woke up? I figured you'd rot in there."
"What..." Slaten's voice rasped out painfully and he began coughing.
"You just stay there, I'll get girly."
Though Slaten wanted to object, since facing the guard was better than being alone, he didn't have the strength for it. Instead he just clung to the bars. If he slumped back to the ground, he wasn't sure that he could get up again. What the hell had happened to him? The last thing he remembered... all he could remember was the frozen darkness. No, and Teren. He had been trying to protect her. Though his fingers clenched instinctively, he told himself that too much time had passed for any immediate actions to be meaningful. All he could do was wait.
Quick footsteps sounded down the corridor, then suddenly Laeri stood in front of him. He blinked at her in surprise. She looked the same as he remembered, not holding her staff but otherwise in her usual blue and white robes. Her hands clapped over her mouth and she stared at him, tears forming in her eyes.
"You're alive... I knew it, I knew I wasn't wrong to hope..." Abruptly she turned, gesturing wildly at the guard who was catching up to her. "Go on, let him out!"
"Why..." Slaten's throat hurt, but he could speak now. "Why... in here?"
As the guard looked through his keys, Laeri hovered beside him, now grinning from ear to ear. "I'm so sorry about this, really! But sometimes you would try to attack people, even after we took away your sword. It wasn't safe to keep you with anyone else, do you understand?"
When the door opened he stumbled forward, nearly collapsing. Laeri caught him, then pulled him into a quick embrace. A moment later she pulled back, wrinkling her nose. "Oh dear, you need a bath. If we stuck food in your hands you'd eat it, but... well, I think the guards have been throwing water on you, but..."
"Eh, sometimes." The Deathspawn shrugged and didn't offer any help, just seemed to want to lock the cell again.
Laeri led him down the corridor and Slaten limped forward, gripping the wall for support. "Teren?"
"Who? Oh, that's the little Oken girl, isn't it? Don't worry, she's fine! I don't know if she really understands what's going on, but she's doing fine. I think she'll be really glad to see you!"
"How... long?"
"Since we came here? Oh, I suppose not - you mean how long since you fell unconscious, right? Let me think... it's been 47 days, or something close to that."
That was a long time by most standards, but all he could think was that it didn't sound like nearly long enough. His memories of the eternity under the ice were beginning to fade, yet the pain remained clear. As he limped along the hallway, he began to remember the cloaked Deathspawn. Though he couldn't begin to comprehend the sein that had been used against him, it must have been that. This wasn't an incomprehensible ordeal, it was an intentional torture he had overcome.
Now that his mind had returned, he looked around himself and noticed that most of the cells were filled with Deathspawn. He frowned as he looked at them, then glanced toward Laeri. "Why Deathspawn?"
The guard walking behind them answered. "Most of 'em are in seinshock. The violent type. Maybe like you, though you were always the biggest problem. Don't know why we're keeping them alive instead of finishing them, but those are the orders."
Slaten pondered that in silence for a time. It looked like they were reaching the end of the corridor, the torch mounted there hurting his eyes. He flinched and partially stumbled before catching himself on the wall.
"Oh dear, can you make it up the steps? Let me help you." Laeri partially supported him as they made their way up a grimy staircase.
When they came out, Slaten saw a glimpse of real sunlight. They emerged inside a rough building, but they stood on the ground floor now. The air felt a little fresher and he eagerly breathed it in. Though his body ached, breathing deeply felt good.
"Iralin! Iralin, look!" Laeri waved happily across the room.
Over the rows of cots, several of them filled with injured Deathspawn and humans, Slaten spotted Iralin. The mansthein woman had been going through her supplies and now looked up. Her eyes widened when she saw him, but she only gave a small snort.
"Well, I'll be damned. Your methu were so locked down, I didn't think you had a chance." She rose and approached, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Fortunately, we're not getting so many injuries these days. We have resources to waste helping you get back on your feet, though it looks like you need to eat more than anything."
"Could I..." Slaten swallowed his dry throat and managed to straighten. "Some water?"
"Oh, of course! I'm sorry I didn't think of it!" Laeri rushed off, leaving Slaten looking at Iralin. Beneath her usual exterior, he thought there was a hint that she was glad to see him alive.
Something felt strange on his face. When Slaten reached up, he was surprised to find that it was a beard. He'd thought his hair was too sparse and straight for a full beard, but it seemed that after growing this long it could form a beard, albeit a tangled and filthy one. "Could I have... a knife to shave?"
Iralin's eyes shifted cooler. "No. You've been down for a long time, Slaten. Wait until someone explains the current situation to you."
"What's going on?"
"Not my job." Iralin shrugged and turned away. Slaten stared at her mutely until Laeri approached with a jug of water. He took it gratefully, drinking and not caring how much splashed on his face and the front of his body.
"Thank you." He took a deep breath, then drank more. Meanwhile, Laeri hovered nearby.
"Melal and Teren and everybody will be really glad to see you," she said, "but they're mostly working right now. Maybe you should get cleaned up while you wait, okay?"
Having drunk his fill, Slaten nodded. Laeri pushed him toward a doorway to the outside and they passed through. He winced in the direct sunlight and for the first time tried to hold his robes closer for the sake of modesty.
They weren't in Bundlin. Slaten's eyes swept their surroundings, discovering a rather small number of buildings clustered together in the middle of an expanse of grasslands. In two directions he saw what appeared to be large mounds of earth and rock. Though he wanted to investigate, Laeri was trying to pull him forward.
In the next building, he found mostly humans. More women than men, mostly moving supplies and repairing clothing. Notably, Eraes sat at a shoddy desk, scowling at a sheet of paper. She looked to be in good health and wore new clothes, though he noticed that there was a dull iron collar around her neck. All the humans he saw wore collars, except for Laeri.
When Eraes glanced up at him he saw a glimpse of surprise, followed by a smile. "You're alive. I'm impressed you-" Eraes cut off and wrinkled her nose. "You desperately need a bath."
Laeri nodded. "And he needs his clothes back, or whatever we have."
"Back there. Follow me."
Eventually he was given the privacy of a small room and a tub of water. It was cold, though not as cold as the memories still lingering in his mind. One of the Coran women handed him a porous rock - definitely not his preferred way of getting clean compared to a proper Oken bath, but he'd take it. Scraping the rock over his skin wasn't pleasant, but it did help get off the layers of grime.
When he finished he found clothes waiting for him - not the ones he'd been wearing, but suitable enough for fighting. Just as Slaten was about to pull on his shirt, a human woman and a Deathspawn man entered. The woman had a knife and the man was armed with a battleaxe, so he tensed at first.
Fortunately, she was just there to shave him and cut his hair shorter. Though he preferred it longer, this was unquestionably more practical, plus it cut off the problem of tangles. When it was done he felt much better, though hairs clung to him, leaving him itchy and wanting a second bath.
The woman retreated with a strange look on her face and Slaten saw the reason why a moment later: the Deathspawn was approaching with a collar. Slaten considered trying to struggle only briefly before discarding the thought.
"Stay where you are and this will be over quick." The Deathspawn was on guard, as if ready for him to attack. Slaten just stayed seated and did nothing while the collar was snapped around his neck. Nothing about it seemed unusual and the metal band was only small enough that he couldn't pull it over his head, so it rested heavily on his shoulders. With that, the Deathspawn took the knife from the woman and they both left, leaving him alone again.
Now that he'd shed most of the memories and felt a little more himself, Slaten was able to focus inward and reflect on himself. His body hadn't deteriorated as far as he'd feared, he was simply stiff and sore. But his sein was much worse than he'd expected. It surged wildly, unfamiliar to him, resisting any attempt to draw it into familiar techniques. If he fought now, he would fall as quickly as an untrained warrior.
Still, he was alive. That was worth something. Slaten left the room to find Eraes again, only to see Teren running toward him, shrieking.
"Slaten!" She threw herself at his knees, forcing him to stoop to pick her up. "They said you were sick and I couldn't see you! But then Laeri said that you were better now!"
"I do feel better." He managed to smile for her sake. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. They make me carry things, but not big things like the adults. I don't know why we have to stay here but it isn't so bad. Can we go home, Slaten? Can it be soon?"
"Most likely we'll stay here for a while longer." As he carried Teren further, Slaten saw that more of his old allies had gathered. Melal had a huge grin on his face, Celivia gave him a quiet smile, and Eraes sat at her desk and pretended she wasn't interested. No Tani, which was a question for later.
"Counted you out too soon!" Melal moved forward and slapped him hard on the shoulder. "I see they already got one of these damn collars on you. But we'll break out soon enough, you can count on it."
The bold declaration made Slaten glance around for Deathspawn. When she saw him looking, Eraes gave a short shake of her head. "Nobody is pretending to be happy about this. As long as we don't kill any guards or try to escape, our lives are peaceful. You should still talk to Kolanin and learn all the rules, though."
Though Slaten wanted to talk to them for hours, it seemed that they had more work to do. After letting Teren go with a Coran woman she seemed to know, Slaten moved out of the building and stared at the sky again. Fragmented clouds scattered to the horizon in every direction, slightly unusual given how far into the dry season it must have been.
He wanted to explore his surroundings better, but given that they were prisoners, that could easily lead to problems. Instead Slaten asked the nearest guards he saw about where Kolanin was. They pointed to the only building nearby with two levels - an easy enough guess. Slaten thanked them in Futhik and headed toward it.
In the front room he found two Catai lounging with their weapons: Loravasik and a suited Deathspawn he didn't know. Though the room was much rougher than in Bundlin, the basic form of it hadn't changed. Neither of them cared about him, so he might as well be just another human to them, but they only waved him toward the stairs when he approached.
When he reached the top, he found Kolanin seated at a desk, leaning forward with his head in his hands. He quickly straightened and smiled when he saw Slaten.
"I am glad to see you well. That's one fewer casualty."
Slaten swallowed. "How many died?"
