Dinavhek- The Fall

by Tal'urra Steelfang

  Itholera gasped as the door opened, and Aasimah could see why. Their room was definitely the most neglected in the entire dwelling, as the roof sported the largest hole in the ceiling, to the point where there almost wasn't a ceiling at all. Leaves, insects, and all manner of debris littered the room, leaving it absolutely covered in filth. There were no beds, only badly torn blankets scattered about the corners. A chamber pot sat in the far left. That, at least, had been emptied, but it did nothing to relieve the awful smell.

  Welcome home, indeed.

  *​*​*

  There were five other women that lived in the shack with Aasimah and Itholera. One was from Takirar, two were from Toluduna, and the other two were even native to Dinavhek, but had simply lived near the border. One of the women seemed to be a leader of sorts. Her name was Jonellea, and she was a tall woman, with unevenly cut white hair and a nasty, jagged scar running from the left corner of her mouth to the center of her chin. She had cold eyes and, as Aasimah was soon to learn, a nasty temper.

  Jonellea was the only one among them who did not sleep in their room. She, apparently, had her own quarters. Although she supervised them during their two mealtimes, she never ate with them. Aasimah suspected that she ate far better than they did. Then again, it would be difficult not to.

  Their breakfast consisted of a half loaf of bread, which they were expected to split amongst themselves. As Aasimah later learned, this was their standard morning ration, and it had not increased with the arrival of the two newer women, which meant that food would be even more scarce. It certainly explained why the other women utterly despised them.

  Dinner was a similar ordeal – it consisted of a single pot of stew, typically made with whatever ingredients they happened to have on them for the night. After the first few days Itholera, unaccustomed to such meager portions, had resorted to chewing on leaves to relieve her hunger.

  It didn't help that she was frequently bullied out of her own portions, and Aasimah began to share her own. After what she believed to be three weeks of grueling work in tending the 'crops,' if they could even seriously be called such, Aasimah's hands and feet were incredibly rough and calloused. She suspected she could walk upon broken glass with ease.

  Itholera's hands were raw and bloody from continuous wounds, none of which were ever treated properly, and posed a risk for infection. Aasimah could see that Itholera had attempted to treat them herself, and unsuccessfully at that.

  One night, Aasimah heard her sobbing. To her credit, Itholera attempted to stifle the sound with her blanket, stuffing it into her mouth and curling into a little ball. Aasimah tried to ignore her, but soon found it impossible.

  She rolled over to face her. She considered just telling her to quiet down, else Jonellea might overhear them. She swallowed her words upon the realization that doing so would not truly solve the problem. Even if she could silence Itholera tonight, could she manage to do so every night after?

  “Let me see them,” she demanded in as kind of a tone as she could muster.

  Itholera obeyed, reaching out so that the moonlight shone upon her hands. Aasimah slowly pulled herself into a crouch, and took Itholera's hands in her own, studying them. After a moment, she began blindly reaching behind herself, patting down the ground in search of something. At least, she found what she was looking for, and ordered Itholera to stay still as she trickled some of her water over the woman's bloody hands.

  “They gave their lives for me,” Itholera whispered, grimacing through the pain. “My brothers.”

  Aasimah didn't care, but if it kept the other woman from disturbing her work, she figured she may as well let her talk. What could she even say to that? She wasn't very good at comforting others. She also did not want to think about poor old Falysto.

  Fortunately, Itholera was not deterred by her awkward silence, and continued speaking almost as if she wasn't even present. “I watched them fall one by one... only to be captured, in the end. My eldest brother – he bled out in my arms. I tried to stop it... I couldn't! My family – they're all gone now. And for what reason?”

  Aasimah supposed that Itholera was looking for her to confirm that all things that happen in life must happen for some sort of grand purpose, but she found the very idea to be a generously sized pile of glittering unicorn dung. Comforting strangers wasn't exactly her strong suit, and already, she found herself growing agitated.

  “There was no purpose,” Aasimah whispered. “People die everyday, Itholera. People are murdered, and people kill. Your brothers gave their lives so that you might escape the ugly reality of war that they, themselves, had to face. Don't waste their sacrifice. You never had to worry about starvation or dying from exposure. You have to get stronger now – you have no one else to coddle you.”

  Aasimah, having torn off a bit of her blanket to wrap Itholera's hands with, finished her work without another word. Itholera, too, had gone quiet. Evidently, she was too well-bred to openly show offense to Aasimah's remarks.

  More's the pity.

  “There,” Aasimah said at last, as satisfied with her work as she could be, given the circumstances. It wasn't much, but it would do – for now. “Go, and get some rest.”

  “You have my thanks,” Itholera said stiffly, retreating back to her spot of the floor.

  Aasimah sighed and nestled back into her blanket, which absolutely reeked. She was angry, exhausted, and thirsty; what little water that was left in her bottle had been used to clean Itholera's hands. It took a while for her to fall asleep, and the last thing she heard before she drifted off was the soft, muffled sound of Itholera crying, once more, into her crudely bandaged hands.

  Chapter 5

  Aasimah's Gambit

  ∞∞∞

  A week had passed and the work only became more grueling. A few times, the slaver had called for one of the women to be escorted to his chambers by Jonellea. She would come back hours later, often in tears, sometimes covered in bruises and small cuts.

  Aasimah knew why, of course. And she was certain that, should she ever be called upon, she would do anything in her power to end the wretch's life. Better to be killed standing up for herself than to become another Itholera.

  In the meantime, Aasimah focused on simply staying alive. Since her arrival hadn't exactly gone over well, she often found herself a target of Jonellea's wrath. The other slaves would often support the tyrannical woman as they did not wish to end up like Aasimah.

  The slaver never bothered to increase their daily food rations, and so, they often came to blows over whatever scraps were left. To make matters worse, Itholera never defended her own.

  Shy and submissive as she was, Itholera always backed down when challenged. If not for Aasimah's continued generosity, the noble would starve.

  Aasimah tried to stay patient with her, but found that she had less tolerance for the girl's weakness as time went on. After all, she had spent her own entire childhood never knowing when her next meal would be or whether she would be able to sleep through the night.

  Itholera was going to have to toughen up.

  “I can't keep babysitting you,” Aasimah said, having broken apart her slice of bread and given Itholera the larger chunk. “Sooner or later, you'll have to start fighting back. You can't expect them to just give you their respect – you'll have to make them.”

  Itholera's cheeks reddened.

  “I know, I know!”

  Finally! Aasimah continued trying to prod her companion into action.

  “Really? Because you're doing a terrible job of standing up for yourself. I don't think you're listening to me at all. They laugh at you, you know? If you can't defend what little you have, then you're going to lose it!”

  “S-stop, just stop!”

  “No! You need to hear this! We've been here long enough now, and I can't keep fighting your battles for you. Sooner or later, you'll have to be the one fighting. What if something happened to me? What would you do then? You wouldn't even be eating right now if I
wasn't giving you my own share. Your brothers didn't give up their lives so you could sit around uselessly and leech off of someone else.”

  Itholera had had enough.

  “Stop!”

  “Make me stop,” Aasimah demanded, and not a second later, Itholera's open palm connected with her face. It felt more as if a butterfly had grazed her cheek, but was a start.

  “Good,” she said, “keep that up.”

  She shoved the remainder of her bread toward Itholera, who merely glared at her.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice shaky and strained.

  “Giving you what you've earned. I mean it – keep it up. Maybe tonight, you'll get to finish your bowl of stew!”

  “You're - you're unbelievable!”

  “And you are not going to go hungry tonight.”

  Aasimah left her to ponder what had just happened while she began her own work for the day. She wasn't even sure why they were being forced to tend to fields that could never grow anything again, but she almost welcomed the distraction at that point. If only she had known that that would be the easiest part of her day.

  She knew something terrible had happened when she returned from working the fields that night. Jonellea stood towering over Itholera in their quarters, staring her down with a look of pure disgust. Itholera's eyes were wide with terror, and she looked as if she were about to collapse.

  “You don't have a choice,” Jonellea was saying, “make it easier on yourself and just come with me. It will be over before you know it.”

  What a terrible lie, Aasimah thought. She wondered if Jonellea ever been called upon in such a way.

  “N-no!” Itholera choked, trembling so violently that Aasimah was amazed she hadn't fallen over yet.

  Fire burned deep within her in that moment. Aasimah found herself at the mercy of an incredible, all-consuming rage, and that rage showed absolutely no signs of relenting. She knew there was only one way to sate her fury, only one way for the night to end. Before she could even think about it, she stepped toward Jonellea, demanding her attention.

  “I'll go,” she said.

  Jonellea's eyes narrowed.

  “He didn't ask for you, he asked for her.”

  I don't care who he asked for, she thought, I'm going to finish him.

  “I know,” she replied, fighting to regain some small level of self control, “but I... I want to.”

  Jonellea clearly did not believe her, and yet... she had an odd, unsettling gleam in her eyes as she stared Aasimah down.

  “Very well. I doubt he would turn down a willing participant.”

  I'll bet he won't.

  Jonellea grabbed Aasimah by her forearm and led her out forcefully. “Come, then. You've already delayed him much too long.”

  With that, Aasimah forced her out of the room, and Aasimah had only a second to glance back at Itholera, who had backed herself into the corner, her blanket lay crumpled by her feet. Her eyes were glassy with tears, and she looked both relieved and horrified.

  Before she knew it, Aasimah found herself standing before the forbidden door.

  That door, unlike all the others of that horrid, roach-infested shack, proved difficult to open. Initially it had not budged, but merely creaked and groaned, as if warning Aasimah to turn back. Jonellea gave it a hard shove, and the door reluctantly swung open.

  Aasimah tried to bring herself to appear subdued, mimicking Itholera's usual expression. As if he had been summoned, the slaver appeared in the door frame, his greedy eyes scanning Aasimah's body up and down.

  “You brought the wrong one,” he growled at Jonellea.

  “She volunteered.”

  He stared at Jonellea for a moment, and to his satisfaction, cowed her with a single, cruel look.

  “Forgive me, my lord, I thought—”

  “You thought? See that you don't do so again. You are dismissed.”

  “My lord, do you still want—?”

  “No! Your purpose has been served. I will fetch you, myself, when I am ready. Use this time to think about what you have done.”

  Jonellea cringed.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  He watched her leave, and turned his attention upon Aasimah.

  “As for you... you're not what I had in mind, but you will do. I was going to have to put you in your place sooner or later.”

  Now, there was no longer a need to pretend. Aasimah dropped her subdued appearance and scowled openly at him, so strongly that she was truly amazed when he had the audacity to laugh in her face and lean forward to kiss her. His lips crashed against hers – the foul taste and stench of his rotten breath overwhelmed every one of her senses.

  She felt a rough hand grasp at her breast, and that was the final straw. Something within her snapped, and without a second thought, she bit down on his tongue as hard as she could, cutting deep through it and nearly taking it off altogether.

  The man screamed – or tried to – and every trace of his presence abruptly left Aasimah's body. He stumbled back, gurgling horribly, blood flowing from his mouth and raining down upon the ground. He seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he kept a hand clutched tightly to his mouth in order, with more blood oozing between the gaps of his fingers.

  Aasimah wasted no time. She rushed forward, knocking him down to the floor. The had made too much noise, and she knew Jonellea would be back any moment to come to his aid and attempt to regain his favor. Aasimah pinned him down as best she could, feeling around on the ground with one free hand in search of something – anything – with no luck.

  She heard the unmistakable sound of a slammed door, and that small distraction cost her dearly. The man shoved her off, reversing their positions. Drops of blood and saliva fell upon her face as he straddled her.

  “You!” he sputtered. “I'll—”

  CLANG!

  Aasimah did not find out what the slaver was going to do. With a grunt, the man toppled over, and Aasimah struggled wildly to free herself from his body. Standing above him was Itholera, weakly clutching the stew pot in her thin, shaky hands.

  Aasimah shoved him off and backed away, heaving from the effort. The pot slipped from Itholera's hands and landed on the ground with another deafening clang.

  “Oh, gods, what have I done?”

  Aasimah gathered her courage and knelt beside the body, feeling his neck for a pulse.

  “By the goddess, he's still alive!”

  “I-I've never done anything like that before!”

  “That was unbelievable,” Aasimah breathed. “What... how...?”

  “It was Jonellea. She just – she left, and I thought... I heard a scream. I mean, I was just trying to be brave – and – and strong... like you.”

  Aasimah felt the corners of her mouth stretch into a smile.

  “You are,” she assured her, “more than you even know. But listen, you have to go now. When Jonellea gets back—”

  “No! You should be the one to go. You're only here because it was supposed to be me. I'll – I'll claim it was an accident, and that I was trying to hit you. I... I heard a commotion, and it all happened so fast.”

  Aasimah shook her head.

  “You know no one will believe you.”

  “Well, this is what I'm going to do, and you'll just... play along. Understood?”

  “Nobles,” Aasimah sighed.

  Itholera smiled back at her. “I'm a noble woman no longer. Please, just go. Let me honor my brothers' sacrifices with one of my own.”

  Aasimah nodded weakly and made for the door. She paused, looking back at poor Itholera. Would she be all right?

  “I'll be back for you,” she promised, although she knew that most likely, she would not be able to follow through. She wondered if this would be the last time she ever saw Itholera. Strangely, looking back at her, she felt something akin to pride.

  Chapter 6

  The Prince

  ∞∞∞

  Aasimah ran as far as she could in her conditi
on, though she succumbed to exhaustion very quickly. It wasn't long before she found herself nearly sinking to the ground. Exhausted, starving, and more terrified than she had ever been in her life before, she could not force herself to get back up. As she rested beneath an old tree, she wondered what happened to Itholera. Aasimah hoped that the young noblewoman had found the strength she would need to survive.

  She was shocked to find that a small part of her actually wanted to go back for her. Perhaps if they were together, they could make it out on their own.

  But no, Aasimah was too weak to go back. She was too weak to move at all.

  So this is how it ends, she thought. The rest of my people are gone. I alone escaped. I survived where they could not... and this is how it ends for me? The old man's sacrifice wasted, just like that? Pathetic!

  Aasimah rolled over, trying to will herself to her feet. She only succeeded in taking in a mouthful of mud. She coughed until her throat burned, and she stayed in that same spot throughout the night, knowing that she would soon be found. She could only hope that whomever found her would have a greater sense of mercy than the slavers had.

  She felt the rough end of a boot against her cheek. Slowly, it began to press down, and Aasimah felt herself being crushed beneath it. Her eyes opened and the pressure suddenly stopped. The slaver was looking down upon her and kept his foot firmly in place.

  “Well, you didn't make it very far. I'll bet you're feeling stupid now, eh? This,” he added, rubbing the back of his head, “don't feel too good. You best be sure that we're going to have a real long talk about that, later. If I didn't have to be off by now, we'd be having that little talk right now.”

  Aasimah snorted at the thought of him doing much “talking.” She considered it nothing short of a miracle that he could even pronounce half of the words he'd just said to her. He pressed down again, and Aasimah gave a muffled cry.