Imprisoned Gods

by G. Bailey

  He smirks, shaking his head condescendingly enough to make me bristle. Okay, maybe he does know.

  “Good thing I can’t be killed then, isn’t it?” he replies, leaning down so his face is inches from mine. This close, I have a chance to appreciate every ruggedly handsome feature, his eyes shining like flames in the light of the wall sconces, his crooked smile enough to send chills down my spine, in spite of my best efforts. “Now, why are you here, little Karma? What did you do?”

  I raise my eyebrows. So he hasn’t heard. Then again, maybe he has, and he just wants to hear it from me.

  I clear my throat, feeling suddenly awkward under his knowing gaze. “Did you just call me little again? I’m short, not little, and that is super offensive.” Hopefully that’s enough of a misdirection for now. Somehow, I don’t feel comfortable confessing my crime to this guy. He makes me feel vulnerable somehow… exposed, and the one thing I hate more than anything is feeling exposed. I wish I had heels on so I could at least reach up and sock this god’s chin. Or just throw my heels at him and hope for the best.

  “Says the girl that just called me an asshole,” he smoothly replies.

  “Touché,” I mutter. He has me there.

  "Storm,” comes an unfamiliar voice ahead of us, “we should get on with the next test. Everyone is waiting, and the justice gods are starting to squirm." I peer into the shadows ahead to see a young guy with dark skin, black eyes, and short grey hair. There’s a cheeky grin on his face as he says this last part, and he crosses his arms as he comes to stand by our side, giving me a passing glance as he does so. "You must be Karma,” he says, extending a hand to me. “I'm Coxen." I reach out to shake his hand, a little surprised by the friendliness, when Storm smoothly moves between us, blocking my view of Coxen so I can only see Storm’s back.

  "Hey, that's rude," I protest, narrowly resisting the urge to smack his back. I decide that sidestepping him is the better option, and put my hands on my hips as I watch Storm lean down and murmur something to Coxen, his eyes flashing. I don't think touching Storm would be good for me, and not just because he’s clearly strong enough to rip my head right off my body. Nope, it's bad enough that he looks good enough to lick. I don't catch everything Storm whispers, but damn does Coxen look nervous when he pulls back.

  "Coxen is going to show you to your new home,” Storm announces, taking a step back and giving the other man a curt nod. “I will come and find you later." He hesitates for a moment, looking as if he’s going to say something else, but remains silent and starts to walk off.

  "Wait!" I shout at his back. He doesn’t even turn around, his posture casual as he continues to walk back to the bridge. It pisses me off to have him ignoring me like this. "You didn't give me my bag back!" I protest, thinking about Kit and my peanut butter. At this point, those are practically the only things keeping me from losing my mind in here.

  "I sent it to your room,” Storm shouts back, not looking back at me. “You can thank me later!" That’s all he says before a crowd of people gathers behind him, obscuring him from view as they follow him back to the bridge. He’s really got the people around here wrapped around his finger, that’s for sure.

  "He really thinks he is all that, doesn't he?" I ask, turning to Coxen, who sheepishly shrugs.

  "Come on, it's one hell of a walk to your home," he tells me, nodding his head towards the back of the ledge. In the dim light, I can make out a set of stone stairs leading both up to the higher levels and down into the bowels of the building. All I can hope is that my new quarters aren’t further down; it’s claustrophobic enough in here, as it is. Coxen begins to walk up the steps, putting his hands behind his back in an overly-professional way, and I have no choice but to follow him. I shiver from the cold as we go, feeling a chilly draft sweep over me from somewhere further up ahead. The fact that I’m soaking wet doesn’t help either, and I decide that the first thing I’m going to do once I’ve settled in will be to change my clothes. A shower would be nice, too, but I’m not getting my hopes up.

  I square my shoulders and begin to climb up the steps after Coxen, who doesn’t even bother to turn around to make sure I’m following him. Whatever Storm said to him earlier, it must have shaken him up pretty well. We must climb hundreds of steps, passing dozens of ledges with bridges as we go, as well as a few people who don’t make eye contact with me. They all look powerful and intimidating, and I wonder what their crimes - or perceived crimes, anyway - could be. By the time Coxen comes to a stop on a narrow stone landing, I’m thoroughly out of breath, and I have to sag against one of the cold stone walls as I catch my breath. Coxen waits for me, not saying anything.

  "So," I say breathlessly, wanting to break the awkward silence and give him something other than my gasping to listen to, "what did you do to get locked up in here?"

  “Me?” Coxen shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Right,” I say. “Sure. I guess everyone in here must think they’re innocent, right?”

  “What?” His brow furrows. “No, I mean… I literally didn’t do anything. My mum was the one who was locked up, not me. I…” He clears his throat, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I was born in here eighteen years ago. I didn’t do anything, but I pay the price anyway.”

  My eyes widen, my mouth dropping open in spite of myself. “Are you saying you’ve never been outside this prison before?”

  Coxen nods reluctantly, a slightly pained expression appearing on his face. “This place is all I’ve ever known,” he replies, looking down at the floor as he waits for me to get my breath back. “I’ve never even seen the outside before. The only reason I know anything about the outside world is because the other prisoners have taught me about it.” I straighten up and open my mouth to speak, but he holds up a hand to keep me quiet. “And before you ask,” he says, “I don’t know what my mum did to end up in here.”

  “Do you mean she…?” I begin, not wanting to finish the question.

  Coxen nods grimly. “She died in childbirth, like a lot of people in here do. We don’t have doctors or skilled healers, so we have to manage on our own, and unless we’re lucky enough to end up with someone who has healing magic, then there isn’t much we can do to help injured prisoners. The higher gods would rather just lock us up here and never think about us again.” He shakes his head, swallowing hard before clearing his throat. “The other prisoners brought me up. They taught me how to read, how to use my powers… I owe them everything. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve never once been outside these walls.”

  "That's a shitty deal for you,” I say, my voice suddenly small. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Coxen replies, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s just the hand I’ve been dealt, I guess.”

  I bite my lip as I think about the implications of this. I remember the children I saw playing on my way in, and I can feel my heart sink. At the time, the significance of that observation didn’t dawn on me, but now it makes a terrible sort of sense. “How many people are born here?” I ask him. “I saw children on my way in.”

  A flicker of sadness crosses Coxen’s face, and I’m starting to realise how much of a bad deal some of these people have gotten. Are the higher gods even aware of what’s happening in here? This isn’t justice, and it’s certainly not ethical. What would the higher gods do if they found out children were being born in here, kept in here for their entire lives? This isn’t the purpose of this prison, of that much I’m sure. I would like to think the other gods would protest to get the children out of here if they knew, but then again, what do I know? It’s obvious that the higher gods don’t care about what’s fair. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that this is a terrible fate for anyone.

  "Most of the people alive in here now were born here,” Coxen replies, running a hand through his silver hair.

  My eyes go wide. “Really?”

  He nods grimly. “The monster below kills anyone who truly deserves to be in here,” he expla
ins, “and Storm makes sure everyone takes the test.” I blink in surprise, unable to think of a response. I hadn’t even thought about that, but it makes sense; if the creature devours anyone truly evil during their test, then the horrible reality is that nobody who survives actually deserves to be in here. I wonder if the original purpose of the prison was to try prisoners, and not necessarily convict them - maybe the creature was placed here to see if people truly deserved to be imprisoned, with the intention of eventually releasing those who passed the test. But somewhere along the line, the higher gods forgot… or maybe they just never cared in the first place. Either way, the flaws in the system are all starting to dawn on me at once, and I feel a fresh surge of anger toward the higher gods. I had known they were assholes, but I didn’t have any idea of just how much. It’s enough to make my blood boil, and I can feel my nails digging into the palms of my hands.

  If Coxen notices my anger, he doesn’t give any indication. I guess at this point he must have just accepted his lot in life, no matter how unjust. That must be the only way to survive in a place like this, and feeling sorry for yourself when there’s no way out is a waste of time, at the end of the day. He turns away from me, not looking back to make sure I’m following, and begins to walk towards a large stone archway leading to a ledge.

  He steps out, and I follow him, pausing for a second as I take in the sight in front of me. The ledge is covered in moss, which spreads like a carpet onto the three bridges connected to it. Two of the bridges lead off to rows of caves, but the one in the middle leads to a big house. It looks completely out of place in this austere environment - almost cozy, if that’s even possible in a place like this. It’s made from carved stone and wood at the front, and it seems to extend into a cave behind it, as if it was built into the stone itself. Out in the front are dozens of pots and planting bays, filled with everything from herbs to strawberry plants. They all seem healthy, although I won’t pretend to be a gardening expert, and I’m stunned to see a beam of sunlight shining in from a set of tiny glass holes on the ceiling. We must be on the very top floor, and I wonder why on earth Storm would send me all the way up here.

  The openings in the roof are a tease of the outside, and I’m reminded of how long it’s been since I’ve seen sunlight; the sight of it is almost enough to make me cry. The glass holes are inaccessible because of the big metal bars that stretch across the ceiling. The bars look burnt, scratched and damaged no doubt from people trying to escape. This high up, I can also see a swirling ball of light above us, floating in the air. What is that? It looks like some sort of magical energy, although I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Another question for later, I think dryly. That is, if anyone is even willing to give me answers around here.

  "This way," Coxen says, his tone businesslike as he walks to the middle bridge, and I hurry after him. From here, I can get a better look at the other bridges, and I see that they lead away to more caves, as well as a ledge that’s also covered in plants. It dawns on me that Coxen is leading me toward the house, and I’m stunned. Why the hell would they put me in a place like this when everyone else around here is stuck in caves and cages? It doesn’t make sense.

  "No way am I staying in this big house,” I say, my eyes wide as I take in the sight in front of us. “Who lives here, anyway?" Cozen doesn't answer me as we walk across the bridge, and I try not to look down as it sways gently beneath us. Being forced to jump off the last bridge I crossed didn’t do anything good for my fear of heights.

  "Storm lives here, but he has spare rooms. He wants to keep you close," Coxen tells me, glancing back for a moment with a look that I can’t read.

  I stop dead on the stone step just off the bridge, crossing my arms defiantly. "I'm not living with him," I state firmly, aware that I’m not exactly in a position to negotiate but not liking the idea of being in close quarters with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

  "It isn't because he likes you,” Coxen tells me. “It's just a thing he does with everyone new. It’s kind of a tradition - after they pass their test, they live with him for a week, settle in, and choose where they would like to live in the prison.”

  “So he’ll do the same thing with Seth, Killian, and Jade?” I ask.

  “If they survive their test, then yes,” Coxen replies. In spite of my surliness, I can’t help but be a little disappointed that this is something that happens to everyone else. I had been starting to wonder if Storm… Well, best not to think about that now. The fewer distractions, the better. "Honestly,” he continues, “Storm may be all talk, but he is a good guy. I've never seen him do anything but help those who need it. He even opens his home to strangers because they need it. That's who he is."

  "He is still an asshole," I point out.

  "You'll learn," he says, shaking his head at me with a smile. I roll my eyes and walk after him through the plants, gently running my fingers across the leaves. Coxen pushes open the wooden door, which apparently doesn't need to be locked, although anyone that tried to steal from Storm would have to be pretty brave.

  "Welcome to your temporary home," Coxen says as I walk into the entrance hall, shutting the door behind me. It's a small corridor with big stone archways on either side, and a staircase at the end which is made of wood, taking up all the space. Everything looks hand carved from scratch, and I have to admit it's done extremely well. "To the right is the kitchen and dining room combined, and Storm's private study is right behind there. That's the only room you aren't allowed in." He pauses to make sure I nod in understanding before looking to the left. "The living room is this way, and it opens up into the steam room at the back."

  "Steam room?"

  "Yes, there is even a natural rock pool in there. The caves were naturally here before the prison was built around them. Lucky really, as they are our water supply and help us grow food enough to feed everyone. Though we are all vegetarians," he explains to me, and I cringe. I love my burgers, bacon and everything meat related. I guess I will learn to cope...possibly. Coxen walks to the staircase, and I follow him, walking up them and into the stone-walled corridor. This is inside the cave now, I'm sure. There are at least seven doors down the corridor on the left side, and the right is a dead end. Coxen walks with me all the way to the end of the corridor before opening the last door and waving a hand for me to go inside.

  "Thanks," I tell him.

  "This is your room. Storm's room is the first door closest to the stairs, and mine is right next to it," he explains to me. “Though we all like our private space, so I wouldn’t go walking in people’s rooms.”

  "So, you live here?" I ask him.

  "Storm took me in when I was ten and causing big trouble. I needed a strong role model, and he was that for me. I don’t know, he helped me find my strengths and use them, so I just ended up sticking around much to his annoyance,” he explains, somewhat awkwardly brushing a hand through his hair. "I will be around if you need me, Karma. Dinner is in about four hours. Oh, and your powers are weakened here. Any magical objects won’t work either, it’s part of the magic of the prison. I thought you should know.” Well, at least I don’t have my necklace for it not to work.

  "Thanks again," I reply before he nods and walks off down the corridor. I shut the door, resting my head against the wood and trying not to panic at how permanent this situation is starting to feel. I turn around, looking at the room I have been given. My bag sits on a single bed with blue sheets and a throw pillow that looks handmade. There is a woven trunk at the end of the bed and a blue rug in front of it. The room has another door in it, which I walk over and pull open to find a bathroom. Well, it's an old-fashioned one with a hole for a toilet, but as I go and look down it, I see it goes to a stream of running water. There is no shower, so I'm assuming the sauna and pool room downstairs is for that. There is a counter with a basin filled with hot water; a soap and sponge cloth are on the side waiting for me along with a rough feeling towel. I place the sponge cloth in the water and breathe out a deep sigh af
ter cleaning my face. I just have to wait for the twins to pass the test, and then I can ask them how they plan to get out of here.

  19

  I finally finish washing my body with the cloth when there is a knock on my door. I pick the towel up, wrapping it around my naked body before leaving the bathroom. I go to the door, edging it open to see Killian there, soaking wet with his arms crossed. Damn, he looks good wet.

  "I wanted to check you were alright," he tells me, and like he suddenly realises I'm just in a towel, his eyes widen. "I didn't expect you to have no clothes on when I knocked."

  "I have a towel on, and as you can see, I'm good. Did Seth and Jade pass the test?" I ask him, slightly relieved to know he passed and I’m not on my own. Plus, he is my ticket out of here, and I need him alive for that.

  "I don't know. They threw a screaming Jade off the bridge the last time I saw them, and Seth was still in the cage. Storm wanted him to go last for some reason," Killian explains. "My room is next to yours." He points a thumb to my right.

  "For what it is worth, I'm happy you didn't die," I admit, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth as I start to really register how attractive Killian looks like this. His top is stuck to his chest, making his muscular and toned body easy to see. His blond hair is darker wet, pushed to the side as little drops drip down past his dark eyebrows and his full lashes. How is it even fair he has eyelashes like that? I'd have to wear some pretty expensive fake ones to even get close to his.

  "Are you alright?" he asks, and I shake my head, snapping out of it.

  "Just cold. I'm going to get dressed, and you might want to clean up. You smell," I say, needing to say something that is far from the truth. He doesn't smell, well not bad anyways.

  "Yeah, I might do," he laughs, wiping some water droplets off his forehead. We smile at each for a moment, and I shake my head. What am I doing? He is my kidnapper, and I have to remember that. He hasn’t even said sorry yet.