by K R Leikvoll
The gate between the Everglade and his palace was one I was all too familiar with. I had spent the first part of my time staring at it longingly, hoping I could escape to freedom. It was stone and black iron, guarded by two demonic katoma. They were clever choices to keep us out, as they could sense someone coming from far off. I presented the proper documentation and they allowed me to pass. I remember how dirty I felt as I walked through his palace’s west threshold for the first time.
The entrance was polished and spotless; most of his castle was. There were more guards than I had ever seen in the Everglade and they noticed me. I was taken aback by the number of approving nods I got as I made my way to his larger dining hall. A few guards had to direct me through the maze of hallways. I recall how incredibly awestruck I felt at how beautiful his home was. Only the finest craftsman could have made all of his intricate furniture and artwork. The architecture was sharp and everything was carved from dark obsidian. No palace in the world looked as his did. It reminded me faintly of paintings I had seen of the Femoran capital, but with his own touch.
The dining hall I was set to clean was nearest to the front entrance and it had been clearly unused for years. The table, ornate silver and black chairs, candelabra and giant fireplace were coated in thick layers of dust. I could tell beneath the throw rug that even the ground was filthy. Being so near the door to freedom was tempting, but the thought of being close to my Master was far more overwhelming.
And so, I started with the table first, scrubbing meticulously until every bit of dirt was wiped away. I was not used to cleaning, but I found it to be almost meditative. There were no thoughts in my head beyond the pleasing flashes of my enemies dying and my Master’s beautiful face as I did my chore. I would have done anything to look for him. Moving to the fireplace, I noticed a small bronze mirror face down on the mantle. I couldn’t resist the urge to glance into it.
Evyan culture may have had a fascination with mirrors, more so than the other races of Praetis, but not priestesses of the light. We had little as far as possessions, nor time to spend on vanity. Truthfully, I may have only seen my reflection a few times in my life before I peered into the mirror. I looked far different than the foggy memories I had of my appearance. Years of hardship had starved my face and caused my eyes to seem overly large. I looked empty beyond everything else. There was no light in my being; I was merely a shell.
The creaking sound of the front entrance being pulled open was enough to distract me from how distraught I felt. I did not desire to get into a fight over not cleaning, but I could not help the curiosity that drew me to the threshold of the dining hall. It paid off in my favor, as my Master’s form was instantly discernable when he came through the massive doorway.
He was talking to one of the guards, but I couldn’t hear his words beyond the screaming of the second person to follow behind him. It was a young woman in obvious distress, definitely a prisoner. I was entranced by her appearance as I had never seen a being in my life that looked as she did. She was clearly Naadean, though I could not tell which region, but that was not what made her unique. This woman had a mane of fiery locks deep vermillion in shade. Her particular hair color was one of the most unusual things I had ever seen, as even the Naadean people I had known never had such vibrant hair. Her trekking clothing was much too expensive for her to be a mercenary; it was obvious she was a scout or spy.
“Don’t make this harder on yourself,” my Master’s voice echoed through the hall as he neared her.
The front entrance closed with a slam and they were quickly surrounded by guards to assist Vince, though it was laughable to think he would need their help. The girl squirmed and fought the guards holding her arms, but it was no use. I could tell she was experienced with fighting – that didn’t matter when she was in the demon’s den.
“You will have to kill me. I’ll never talk!” she yelled fiercely.
My Master chuckled and reached out a hand to touch her face. In response, she bit into his fingers to keep him away. I was instantly filled with rage at her violent reaction. He didn’t seem to notice though and moved his hand around her neck.
“Oh, I believe you. You will tell me what I want and then you will get your wish,” he said with a humorous tone as if the thought of her death pleased him. It pleased me.
He released her and wiped his hands on her clothes to remove her filth.
“Take her away,” my Master commanded his guards.
She screamed repeatedly as they pulled her to a doorway on the right that led to the dungeons. My Master watched them drag her away before turning to me. I am certain he heard the sound of my heartbeat from the doorway I was watching from.
At first, I thought he might say something as he opened his mouth to speak. Instead, we merely stared at each other from across the room. I felt immediately faint. I was so near – I could ask him all the questions that had been driving me toward insanity for years. The desire to run into his arms was so overwhelming I was unsure what to do but stay frozen.
Vince glanced up the nearby staircase and back at me, as if he were beckoning me to follow him with his eyes. Of course, I did not even think of moving from my spot, as much as I wanted to. It was one of the most stressful encounters I was put through. I looked incredibly foul, covered head to toe in dirt. He was dressed in exquisite plush gray and purple robes that could have paid for a lifetime of rations. My Master was a god in the flesh, and I was a speck before him.
Embarrassment was all I could feel. I hadn’t wanted to meet him that way, looking worse than normal. After an eternity of silence, he graced me with a small smile and continued on his way up the stairs. The only opportunity I had in nearly thirty years to speak with him and I had faltered entirely. I was not able to continue my task of cleaning with a clear mind.
My entire body shook as I finished the flooring, wishing that I had said anything to keep him there a few seconds more. Beyond that, I was infuriated at the woman’s actions toward him. She was an enemy and he treated her with civility she did not deserve. I seldom felt the emotion of envy those days, but that was exactly what coursed through me as I thought of her denying his affectionate touch. I wished to be her, even if it meant being sent to the dungeons, if only to have a single moment with him. All the time in the Everglade and years wasted lusting for his blood had been enough to drive me mad.
Somehow in the midst of cleaning, I had formulated an odd plan in my mind. I cannot recall why I thought it was an idea that Vince would have approved of, but at the time I was incapable of thinking clearly. I wanted to teach his prisoner a lesson for her rudeness. She deserved to be punished.
I finished my chores and hurried back to the Everglade, only I did not simply walk back as a lawful citizen would have done. Learning to assassinate people helped me sneak through the hallways, avoiding guards at every corner. I wandered around the palace until I found a seemingly covered window. I inconspicuously left it unlatched and cracked before rushing back toward the Everglade. I had to have a way back in, after all.
My trip home was too busy for my nerves. As soon as I was back through the Everglade gates, I was swarmed with people that had never glanced in my direction. They were shouting about the upcoming tournament, shoving pieces of parchment in my hands. In my distraction with my assassinations and upcoming plans, I hardly had time nor interest in arena fighting. I attempted to side step the crowd and ignore them, but someone forcefully put another sheet of parchment in front of my face. Finally, I tore it from their grasp and read what they were all so worked up about.
It was the arena lineup, but it was very different from the normal structure. The more I studied it, the more I realized their excitement. I was set to fight a man whom had been growing in popularity for some years that I always chose to ignore. His name was Varnoc Stonebreaker. A man from the Empire of Zaar that had come in as a prisoner or slave. He had been moving up in the arena for some time but had never remotely been a threat to me. According to the aren
a lineup, he was set to fight as many as my highest record, with me as his final opponent. I still could not be bothered to care, for I had more important plans than worrying about the upcoming battle.
After fighting through the group of men that wanted to place bets on me, I made it back to my barracks. My fellow living mates would not cease their endless talk of Varnoc defeating me, but I continued to ignore it. All that I could think of was my Master and the prisoner that dared to disrespect him. I played over my plan in my mind repeatedly so I would not fail when my living partners fell asleep.
Sneaking back into the palace was a lot more difficult than going in with documentation, obviously. The demonic guardians were highly aware of their surroundings, but if I scaled the wall to the northeast I would be just beyond their senses. The tricky part was not being seen by the captains that lived in the quarters that faced my escape route. I was prepared to kill anyone that came across me and thankfully none did.
I landed softly between the palace and the walls of the Everglade without being noticed by other guards. Nobody had noted that the window was left unlatched in the empty side room. In fact, nobody was around at all for my entrance into the main hallway. It was rather peculiar to see that the door leading to the dungeons was not marked with its usual spell seal, yet there were no prison guards in sight. Everything was startlingly empty. Suspiciously so. Nevertheless, I took the torch and headed for the dungeons, shutting the door behind me.
During that time, Lord Vince’s dungeons were filled to capacity with prisoners. Most were captured war prisoners from the Zaarian Empire or rebellious Dryads that refused to be ruled. Others were kept to be experimented on. This prisoner was unlike the others; most likely political so she would not be with the everyday rabble. I peered into each room via an outside scrying orb. My Master preferred his prisoners be kept in absolute darkness, so there were no openings on their cells.
My target was not being held in the political cell, rather she was in the torture chamber strung up on the wall. Whoever was charged with being her tormentor had certainly done their job. Her face was bloodied and bruised. One of her arms was broken while the rest of her body was covered in deep lacerations from some sort of whip. I could not help the grin that spread across my face when I saw her suffering. It did not smother my previous feelings of hatred I harbored from earlier, however.
I raised my fist to hit her as hard as I could, filling my blow with all the wrath I felt. Not only my rage toward her, but my rage I had held onto for years. All of the loneliness, all of the suffering rose into my mind as I struck her. She did not give me the reaction I desired. Instead, she awoke startled for a moment before spitting out blood with a chuckle.
“Another mind slave coming to do Vince’s dirty work?” she asked, opening her verdant eyes. They were the color of emerald with such vibrancy I had never witnessed. It was a shade that will forever be stained in my memory.
“You dare speak his name?” I asked appalled. “Lowborn scum!”
I hit her in the gut despite her lacerations. Still she did not scream, nor even groan from pain. It only enraged me further.
“I’ve always wondered…why do you all serve a lord that does not care for you? You will die and not a single person will be around to honor your memory,” the prisoner said when I finally stopped beating her. “You are slaves with little more purpose than to serve and perish.”
“All lies,” I whispered, wrapping my hands around her throat. I squeezed down on her windpipe until she might lose consciousness, but she was still not fazed.
“You fear my words. I can see it in your eyes,” she managed to say after I ceased.
“I am not a slave!” I yelled, breaking her nose with my fist.
“Tell me! Have you ever felt happiness? Have you ever slept beneath the trees of Evya or seen the ocean?” she asked, raising her voice over my fit of fury. Her lips cracked into a smile, pleased at my distress to her questions. “Your ‘Lord’ doesn’t even know your name! You die without reason!”
“You are wrong! He knows my name. He cares for me as he cares for all of Praetis,” I responded, unable to stop the emotions I was overcome with. I had not once cracked over my fate, but she was taunting me in a way she knew was working.
“Which is to say not at all.”
I was infuriated beyond words. Not even hurting her could satisfy the torment in my mind. I was questioning all I had believed since arriving. Perhaps my Master only stared at me earlier because I was filth in his entryway. Could there be a chance that he gave everyone blood to keep them loyal? I collapsed on the small stool a few feet from her, unable to comprehend my own thoughts.
“It didn’t take much to make you question everything you were taught to believe. I think that means that your teachings were based on lies,” she continued, despite the fact that I did not wish to hear her words.
“He knows my name,” was all I could mutter to myself as I left the prisoner and the torture chamber lost in my own mind.
The days following my conversation were filled with doubt. I did not want to believe that I was merely a pawn in my Master’s scheme. His blood had always made me feel closer to him than a simple mind slave, though I knew that was exactly what a slave should feel for their master. I sought answers and the Everglade was not going to give them to me if I sat around idly.
But I could not go to Vince, lest I look like a fool and ruin all I had achieved.
So, I went back to the prisoner instead.
The second time I saw her, she was in the political chambers in worse condition. Her broken arm was in a twisted, unnatural position. The tanned color of her skin was already starting to dim. Despite all of that, she had not caved with information, otherwise she would not still be alive.
“Have you come to hit me more?” she asked, squinting through her swollen eyes at my face.
“Perchance… if you do not answer my questions,” I replied honestly. There was no reason to lie about what I wanted.
“Not unlike the torturer.”
I sat across from her on the hard, stone floor keeping my distance. The chain around her leg was too tight causing her foot to swell. Wanting answers above all else, I slowly moved my hands to her shackle.
“What is the ocean?” I asked quietly as I loosened the bolt so her blood flow would return.
For once, she groaned, though it was from relief.
“An Evyan that doesn’t know the sea… that’s a first,” she responded, rolling her ankle around.
“I remember the word, but I do not remember what it is.”
She raised an eyebrow at me.
“It is the body of water that separates Kaeda from Naadea… the righteous from the damned,” she said, humoring my question. Based on her response, I could tell she was from Naadea, or at least working for a Naadean ally.
“And you see this all the time?”
“I grew up on the coastline. The ocean is what lulled me to sleep, not my cursed mother,” she said with a bitter chuckle.
“What does it look like?” I followed up with. I used my kerchief to cautiously wipe away the crusted blood on her face. She flinched expecting me to hurt her, but I was as gentle as I could be.
“Why are you asking me these things?”
“I have no memories outside of this place beyond dragon fire,” I whispered, admitting my amnesia to not only the prisoner, but also myself.
Her squinted gaze softened to my confession.
“It’s the largest source of water you will ever see. It takes forever to cross even with the finest ships.”
I could see flashes of what I thought might be the ocean playing in my mind. It was endless and pitch black.
“Do you have a name? I don’t know much about new Duskwraith culture,” she said to take the focus off of the emotions I was feeling, likely to avoid another violent outburst.
“We still have names,” I replied with mild irritation. “The only name I have is Lazarus. And you are?”
“That’s an alibi and a lie,” I whispered with venom in my voice. All I wanted was for a single person to be capable of honesty. Not even the soon-to-be dead was kind enough to indulge that desire. It seemed as though even beings connected to some form of the light were deceivers. I moved to leave her in the darkness once more, but her chained hand caught my cloak.
“Come back to see me again. We can talk about the ocean.”
Repeatedly I returned to her throughout the coming weeks, succumbing to my curiosity. Each time her condition worsened, but she never gave up the information they desired. Nor did she give me her name despite our many conversations. I had gathered she was from the Capitol based on her narratives she told me to soothe herself and my rapidly growing interest. She was certainly from a family of nobility as well unless peasants were doing well enough to own castles in Naadea.
At the time, I was confused about my place in my Master’s life and my fate if I chose to continue to rot in the Everglade. Each story she told me intensified my desire to learn more of the outside world I was barred from. I did not want to serve anyone but myself. That stranger I had loathed for her actions toward Vince had somehow convinced me that I could escape the destiny I was bound to. It was foolish of her.
When I returned to her cell the final time, I knew her end was near. She knew it as well. Her body was starved and sickly. The blood loss and continuous torturing was becoming too much for her to handle. From what little I had seen of her personality, it was probable that she would end up dying before the information was extracted from her.