Dinavhek- The Fall

by Tal'urra Steelfang

  Ah, rank. It was the most important aspect of Dinavhene social life. You were born into a rank, and unless you managed to 'marry up,' you were bound to die within that same rank.

  How the prince wished he could escape it!

  “That was sufficiently awkward, my prince,” Glanen said, flashing a grin at his friend.

  “Have you ever known me to be anything but that?”

  “No, never!” Glanen said with a chortle.

  “He takes after his father,” called a smooth, almost lyrical voice. Hymuse emerged from the same arched door that Adsuni came from.

  He moved fluidly, with such grace that Adsuni could hardly believe he was human. He seemed beyond humanity, in some way. Adsuni dismissed the idea, and thought himself rather odd for paying so much attention to Hymuse's movements. He couldn't help comparing himself to the prime minister; Hymuse, though quite a bit older than Adsuni, looked closer to his age than his father's. He carried himself differently, he was respected by those below and above him in rank, and if the rumors were to be believed, he was quite skilled in combat as well.

  He possessed all of the qualities the crown prince of Dinavhek should – and did not.

  Hymuse seemed to know what he was thinking, for he gave the prince a knowing smile.

  “Yes, the King was no less awkward when he was the prince's age. Still, we should be grateful for that, otherwise, our dear prince would not have been born!”

  Would that truly have been such a bad thing? Adsuni thought. He nearly gasped when he caught himself for he couldn't believe that such a dark thought could so easily cross his mind. He was an immensely lucky young man – what did he have to be unhappy about? He had wealth and power and was second only to his father in title. Where could such an ugly thought have come from?

  He would just have to be more confident.

  More like Hymuse.

  “Yes, I knew your father back then,” Hymuse said, incorrectly guessing the prince's thoughts.

  When Adsuni said nothing, the older man laughed.

  “Oh, I know, I don't look like I could possibly be that old! Let's just say, I have been blessed with my family lines. As have you, no doubt. Crown Prince of Dinavhek is quite the honor!”

  “I tell him that everyday,” Glanen assured Hymuse.

  Adsuni elbowed him in his side. “Stop it,” he muttered when he noticed that they were being watched by a group of noblemen – and women, too. Young, pretty noblewomen.

  “You needn't admonish him, my prince. As a matter of fact, he should be telling you that. After all, he is your shadow, as his father is to yours. A ruler is only as good as his supporters. I'm sure we can agree on that, yes?”

  Adsuni forced himself to smile. “Yes, of course we can. I appreciate him immensely – and I'll appreciate him more from over here,” he added, creating a few steps' distance between himself and his friend.

  The last thing he needed was to have more ill rumors being spread about him. People already talked about him enough!

  “May I give you some advice, milord?” Hymuse asked, his tone markedly serious.

  “S-sure,” Adsuni said with a mild frown, taken aback by the abrupt change in the man's demeanor.

  Hymuse motioned for the prince to follow after him, which Adsuni did without hesitation. He looked back only once, to wave Glanen off as he attempted to follow. Hymuse led him over to the public garden, and once they found a reasonably secluded spot, the prime minister continued their conversation.

  “I know that you have been sending your friend to carry out private investigations in the Underworld,” Hymuse whispered urgently. “You should know that you are putting your friend in harm's way by doing so.”

  Adsuni knew he could not lie his way out of this one.

  “I—”

  “—Let me guess: You were going to apologize, yes?”

  The prince stared down at his shoes in shame.

  “Well, I'm not the one you need apologize to, and I'm not about to demand that you apologize to anyone else, either. That's your own business. Rather, I have a proposition for you, my young prince.”

  “Wha...?” Adsuni stuttered and trailed off, too shocked to form a complete sentence.

  For the first time, he became aware of his surroundings; he heard the shrill laughter of the noblewomen that socialized in groups all about the courtyard. He heard – and saw – the shuffling and skittering of squirrels as they raced about the trees. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted over to them – ah, yes! Today was “bread day,” as the prince came to call it. Artisan bakers from the city would come by once a month to deliver fresh bread to the councilmen (mostly in hopes of bribing them to pass laws that might make life easier for them) and now, they were gathering in the courtyard to distribute it to the guests.

  “My prince,” Hymuse said with a sigh, “are you paying attention?”

  Adsuni blinked and shook his head.

  “Eh?”

  Hymuse cleared his throat.

  “I was offering to lend you a few of my own men to help you carry out your investigation. Your knight friend really ought to be serving the knighthood. I have plenty of agents to spare.”

  “That would be great!” Adsuni said, forgetting his manners.

  “Excellent! Then, I will see to it immediately. Well, I suppose I shouldn't keep you any further. I know your mind happens to be on one thing, and one thing only, right now!”

  Hymuse slipped the prince a single gold coin, many times the value of a loaf of bread.

  “Do bring something to the young knight,” he added with a wink.

  “I-I don't know what to say,” Adsuni said, flustered.

  He knew he should appreciate Hymuse's generosity, but he, the prince, could just as easily have gotten a few loaves of bread for free if he so desired. Not that he would have accepted them; those bakers had families to take care of, and three copper was a fair price.

  “Then say nothing, and accept my gift for what it is. Do enjoy yourself,” Hymuse said, giving him a fond pat on the shoulder and moving to leave.

  “Hymuse,” Adsuni started, “My father—”

  “—would probably be displeased if he knew what we were just talking about, yes? Not to worry, my prince. I will keep this between us.”

  When Adsuni did not respond, Hymuse took a polite half-bow, and left him alone in the corridor.

  “What a strange turn of events,” said Glanen's voice from behind him.

  The prince, having spaced out for a moment, jumped.

  “Here,” he said once his heart stopped pounding, “go get yourself some bread. It's a gift from Hymuse, just treat yourself, and your father, all right? You've more than earned it, in my opinion!”

  “My prince, are you sure?”

  “Yes, quite. Go on, take it!”

  Glanen accepted the coin somewhat reluctantly. Even for a prince, gold coins were difficult to come by; usually, his father did the bulk of his shopping for him, and gave him steel coins as a weekly allowance.

  “Can I get you anything?” the knight asked.

  “If you feel so inclined. I must say, I've always liked those soft flat breads.”

  “Of course! I will get you as much flat-bread as I can carry!” Glanen vowed.

  Adsuni sighed and shook his head helplessly, staring at his friend's back as he strode through the courtyard. The prince watched him visit with a handful of vendors before finally coming upon the one that sold that delicious, honey-drizzled flat-bread the prince loved.

  Adsuni took a seat on a bench nearby, enjoying a nice spot of shade from the tree that towered over him. He knew he should be more grateful. Hymuse vowed to help him, even against the king's wishes. Glanen took the gold that Adsuni gave him and immediately went about spending it on the prince's favorite bread.

  It was a nice day outside. The weather was perfect, the people that surrounded the prince were happy and full of life, and the smell of bread wafted through the air.

  It was a bea
utiful day, and for once, things really seemed to be going his way.

  So why then did his heart feel so heavy?

  Chapter 4

  Captured

  ∞∞∞

  She had been captured alone, a few days' journey from the east border to Dinavhek. The men that caught her had years of experience in catching difficult specimens. Despite that, the exotic young woman proved quite the challenge to subdue.

  Normally, the drug took a full day to wear off, but she'd only been knocked out for an hour. They'd just tied her up when she “snapped” and began fighting back. She would have escaped, had it not been for a second round of that drug. They kept her sedated for the remainder of the journey.

  They took her back to some nobleman's home, on the outskirts of Dinavhek, where she was auctioned off. Due to her exotic appearance, competition among the bidders was fierce, and it did not matter much to them that she was marred with cuts and bruises.

  The man who won the bid also won several other bids for a handful of women and a couple of men. When he looked her over, he muttered excitedly to himself about the high price he could get for her in the right market. It was such a great shame that he could not resell her directly, for he was sure to make an even greater profit. Instead he was to take his newly acquired stock elsewhere. He could almost feel the coin lining his pocket!

  Soon Aasimah would learn her place. She would learn not to fight back and she would appreciate whatever she was given. If it took a few more beatings, then so be it.

  It was morning now and the wagons were finally set up for the long journey ahead. He'd taken Aasimah and the rest of the slaves back to his own 'home.' It wasn't as nice as the nobleman's manor, but it was large enough to fit himself and his 'stock.' Now, it was time to transport that stock, and he would tolerate no delays.

  Aasimah groaned. Her head felt impossibly heavy, and when she shifted it slightly to her left, she both heard and felt the sickening crack at the base of her skull, along the back of her neck. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she found herself face-to-face with the brute responsible for capturing her. She thought she heard him approaching, but she dared to hope that it had all been a bad dream.

  He grinned, and a sharp blast of his foul breath assailed her. His few remaining teeth, rotten and yellow, shone faintly in the dim light.

  “Rise 'n shine, foxy!” the man shouted suddenly, snatching the heavily torn and stained cloak off of her, and exposing her to the chill morning air.

  Not that it provided much comfort, anyway. It may have been the only thing preventing her from freezing to death in the harsh night, but it only did so barely, leaving her still quite cold. Aasimah doubted she would be able to move.

  It turned out, her captor did not care one bit. He shoved her off of the smelly cot and Aasimah hit the dirty planks of the floor with a dull thud, sending a cloud of dust flying in all directions. She wheezed and remained still. She could hear the creak in the floorboards as the man took a few steps closer.

  “Oi!” he grunted, nudging her cheek with his boot. “I didn't say you could take a nap!”

  Aasimah did not move.

  He grunted again and reached down. His rough hands grabbed her beneath both arms and he pulled her up with an abrupt, cruel tug. Aasimah wobbled on her feet, which were still raw from the untreated wounds she had sustained in the previous day's march. The rough floorboards dug into the sensitive skin along the bottom of her feet, making her wince.

  The man took her by the elbow, dragging her out of the filthy shack and leading her across the dusty clearing over to one of the wagons she had spotted earlier. He gave her a forceful shove, and Aasimah clambered into the back of the wagon she had been facing, finding herself in the company of seven others – five women, two men.

  Soon, the wagon was moving, and Aasimah had settled down next to a young woman who looked to be about her age. She had lighter skin, shimmering black hair, and gentle, yet piercing blue eyes. She wore a soft, subdued expression. She was not as filthy as the rest of them, and Aasimah detected the subtle scent of lavender emanating from her. There was no doubt about it: she was a noblewoman. How odd that one such as herself would end up among their group!

  The rest of their companions looked far rougher, as was common for the denizens of Takirar, which is where they were surely from. The rest of them had clearly been taken from the streets, for many of them sported scars all over their faces, arms, and legs. Their hands and feet were calloused – hers were probably soft and had never experienced battle. Aasimah felt little sympathy for her. She didn't know what it was like to spend every day fighting for her life. No, she had others to do that for her.

  Aasimah and her companions were silent for the entire trip. Once or twice, the noblewoman looked as if she were going to say something – a single look from Aasimah was more than enough to shut her down. No one spoke a word throughout the ride, mostly because they were too thirsty, hungry, and tired to socialize, and in part, due to fear. They were given no food or water for the entire trip. A few times, the wagon had stopped, and they were allowed to eliminate off the side of the dirt road, under the careful watch of one of the armed men. Few of them needed to.

  At one point, one of the men had actually attacked one of the guards. Everyone else was called to leave the wagon and watch as their captors made an example of him. He was left on the side of the road, bleeding out from the knife wound he had taken to his stomach.

  After no time at all, they were off again, reaching their destination by sunset. Finally, the wagon slowed and stopped, and the wagon jerked, shaking everyone awake. Before they knew it, they were being forced out of the wagon, shambling and stumbling and too weak to protest. The noble girl actually fell and landed face-first in the dirt with a pitiful “oof!” Their captor did not bother to assist her, and instead, only merely shouted at them to pick up the pace as he led them across the barren field to a large shack.

  Aasimah took a good look around, taking in her surroundings. They were quite literally in the middle of nowhere – there were few stray buildings around. One looked to be a barn of sorts, another looked to be some sort of small storage shed. They were surrounded by dried up fields – what may once have been a fertile land had clearly seen better days. The land itself looked as if it had been scorched at some point, and little grew.

  There were a few bushes outside of the shack that sported dubious looking red berries, and there were a few sad, almost entirely leafless trees scattered around the land. The shack itself was utterly dilapidated. There were gaping holes in the roof where there were missing planks, and several boards along the walls were quite rotten and moldy. There was a single, severely beaten up door at the front of the shack, and it began to wobble as the group neared it.

  The noble girl had finally gotten to her feet and caught up to them, standing just behind Aasimah. The door suddenly burst open, revealing a stout, angry looking man, with cruel black eyes and disheveled, matted graying hair. He was about Aasimah's height, but he carried himself with an arrogance that made him appear to tower over the group.

  He looked far older than he probably was, and Aasimah didn't like the greedy look in his eyes as they ran over the group.

  “Where did you find these?” the man asked, his voice hoarse.

  “They were taken just beyond the border. I acquired them at Golisthe's auction.”

  “An unusually quiet lot,” the other man observed.

  “A few of 'em resisted, wasn't nothin' we couldn't handle.”

  The man approached the group and paced back and forth, scanning them up and down, taking long and rather invasive looks at each one of them. He eyed Aasimah and Itholera without reservation, causing the noble woman to lower her eyes submissively and inch further away. Aasimah met his stare with utmost defiance.

  “That one put up a right good fight,” their captor informed him. “Had to knock her flat to get her back with us.”

  “Spirited, eh?”

  “Nothing
that can't be fixed.”

  He looked them over one more time, then – “I'll have these two.”

  “Twelve silver.”

  “Twelve? Last time, it was eight!”

  “Do you know how hard it is to get our men out there these days? There're a lot more patrols on the border now, and this one,” he gestured rudely toward Aasimah, “did not come easy. Twelve, and not a coin less.”

  The other man scowled.

  “Twelve, and not a coin more!”

  The men shook hands, both looking as if they were searching for a point in which to sink a dagger into each other. Reluctantly, the other man parted with exactly sixteen copper coins, and both Aasimah and the noble woman were brutally shoved toward him. The remainder of the group left, and the women were beckoned inside.

  The shack reeked of mold, sweat, and urine, and Aasimah found it difficult to breathe. There was a single old wooden table that stood in the center of the room, with no chairs around it. Across from the table was a door, with the words “KEEP OUT” crudely written across it in chipped white paint. Another door stood to their right, as old and worn as the rest of them.

  The man noticed that Aasimah had been looking at the doors, and said, “see that one up ahead? You're to stay out of it, unless I say otherwise. The one right next to you is where you'll be staying. Both of you. Welcome home,” he added with a chuckle.

  Aasimah and the other woman exchanged glances. Regardless of their past, they now shared a common fate. Perhaps it would benefit her to be a bit kinder to her poor, obviously sheltered, companion.

  “Well, go on, then!” the man snapped.

  They made their way to the door with haste.

  “My name is Itholera,” the woman whispered.

  “Great,” she said under her breath, resting her hand on the knob. It suddenly hit her how truly, overwhelmingly exhausted she was. She felt as if she could collapse at any moment, and she took a moment to prop herself against the door for support. Slowly, she turned the handle.