The Summit

by K. A Knight

  I don’t want to talk, but I am curious how long we have been on the road and when we are going to make our move. Thinking through my options, I work through my body at the same time, testing to see if anything is broken. When it doesn’t seem to be, I let the pain consume me for a moment before pushing it away. Sands below, I can’t fight off an army right now. I just need to bide my time, allow my body some time to heal so that I can fight. With that thought in mind, I close my eyes again, keeping my breathing nice and even, and lose myself while still being aware of my surroundings, which is harder than it sounds with my heart breaking in my chest as I remember what happened.

  God, Major.

  His name sends a throb of pain and grief through my chest like a knife. I thought he was unkillable, so strong and sure, logic backing him up and the laws keeping him safe. At least now I am breaking no treaty by killing Ivar, he did that when he killed the leader of the safe zone. No blood will be shed in The Ring, outside of the fighting pit, or they forfeit their life. It’s something drilled into me by Major and I thank him for that now.

  I guess most people would skirt around the pain, trying to forget it, but I do the opposite. I let it consume me. I let it grow inside of me until I am nothing but the rage he created. I think of all the people I have lost: my brother, my father, Petal, Noah, and now Major. I let the hate and fury twist inside until I don’t know where I end and it begins. It is what will get me through this.

  I guess I must doze off, my head wound worse than I expected, because I am awoken when the truck jolts to a stop. “We are here, little queen.”

  I nod and groan at my own stupidity, at least the pain isn’t as bad as the last time I woke up. Yay for little things. We jerk to a full stop and I sit up slowly, facing the blank faced Berserkers opposite us on the bench. I think the only reason I woke up with all my clothes on is that Vasilisy worked as a watchdog. Even now his eyes follow their every movement, the sweet, funny man I met disappearing, and the true Berserker peeking out. Sitting up straight, I keep my eyes dead, not freaking out like they are obviously expecting me to.

  I watch them nudge each other before they lick their lips. Morons, don’t they realise I could kill them without even moving? A part of me wants them to try and come at me, I would love to let some of this rage out.

  With a disappointed frown, I watch them decide against it and slip out the back of the truck. I am surprised they didn’t chain us, but I am betting they know we aren’t stupid enough to try and get away. It’s not like we would get far with a whole army on us.

  The flap is held back and an impatient looking Berserker grunts at me, and gestures for us to leave the truck. Gritting my teeth against the pain rocking through my body, I stand up and hunch over to make my way out of the truck. When I reach the end, before I can even step down, the Berserker grabs me and throws me to the ground. Pushing up from the sand, I hold in my pained moan and get stiffly back to my feet to see the Berserker grinning now. Fucker.

  Cocking back my arm, I let loose. I hear his nose crunch as he howls and falls back into the truck. A grinning Vasilisy hops down next to me and faces the crowd of Berserkers as they all come to see what the commotion is. Standing tall I face them all, it’s time they realise I am not a slave anymore. No, I am the fucking Champion.

  “Anyone that touches me will end up like him, or with my knife buried in his gut!” I yell and I hear a few nervous laughs even as some take a step back, realising how serious I am. I guess if you kill enough people, word starts to get around that you aren’t to be fucked with. Turning, I face my once prison with fresh eyes. The last time I left here I was a trodden down slave, now I am the exact opposite, even if I can taste the metal of the shackles.

  The castle––yes, you heard me right, castle––sits on top of the hill, okay it is probably more of a small mountain. Two tall towers reach into the scorching sky and the grey brick only reflects the merciless heat. Sand, dead trees, and plants litter the dirt paths up to the only entrance to the castle. At the bottom of the hill sits little houses for the Berserkers who are in the inner circle. Looking to the left of the castle, I spot the dungeon built into the side of the mountain, I spent more time there than I care to admit. It looks taller than I remember, but not nearly as scary. There are Berserkers patrolling everywhere, with weapons strapped to every inch of skin. The dirt tracks to the castle and to the road are lined with skulls on pikes and the Berserker symbol is flying high on the flags, but it somehow seems...less impressive.

  “Get moving,” comes a hard voice from behind me, right before I am shoved with a weapon sticking into my back. I stumble forward and start walking. Everything here is built for a purpose. The roads allow the guards on patrol to see who is coming, and booby traps line all the other ways in and out of this land. I remember it all like the back of my hand and I hate myself for it when my feet carry me automatically up the tracks towards the huge metal gate and guardhouse.

  “Hasn’t changed, has it? I guess it’s just us,” Vasilisy says from my side, and it’s strange how in sync we are.

  I look over to see him eyeing a house sadly. “Was that where you lived?” I ask and he snaps his gaze back around.

  He doesn’t answer and I leave him to it, everyone has a past in the Wastes, everyone has horrors they would rather forget. I won’t push him to remember or rip open his pain just to distract me from the looming castle.

  We reach it quicker than I would like and the metal gate pulls up automatically, the gears and chains cranking loudly in the quiet. It seems to take forever for it to rise but when it does, I am pushed through and into the training courtyard. Everyone stops and turns when they realise that Ivar must be back. I spot two Berserkers flirting and they straighten instantly, their eyes alert and all signs of flirtation disappearing. In fact, all the happiness seems to be sucked away and everyone turns cold and determined. Looking around the gathered faces, I realise something else… they are scared.

  They might not all support Ivar, but they are all terrified of him. It’s in their body language, the way they hold their eyes and the submissiveness rolling off them. Maybe Vasilisy is right, maybe it’s time for a new leader. I just plan on it not being me, in fact, he would make a great one. I look at him from the side of my eye. First, I need to overthrow the throne, then put him in place. Time to get to work.

  Welcome Back, Slave

  I don’t get time to gawk at my revelation, I am hustled inside the castle. Past the throne room and straight to the dungeon. Three flights of stairs, three locked doors, and six cells later, I am tossed inside by two impatient Berserkers. I turn back around and glare at them as the metal barred door slides shut, locking me in. When the guards step back, I step up to the bars and holding on, peer through. Vasilisy is thrown in the cell opposite me, and Evan to the left of him. I can’t see anyone else and when the guards walk away, I turn back around.

  “They only took us?” I demand.

  Vasilisy leans against the stone wall and turns his head to face me. “Aye, little queen, too many guards a think. So they grabbed what they could and got out of there.”

  I nod, it makes sense. Plus, the others would have been on their way, and they wouldn’t want to be there when backup turned up, would they. Fuck, the guys are going to lose their shit when they get there and find out I am gone. I hope they don’t do anything stupid.

  I mimic Vasilisy’s position but slump on the cold hard floor instead. With nothing else to do but wait, I look around my cell and with a gasp I realise, it is actually my cell. The one from when I was younger… fucking asshole. I run my eyes around the room... it feels smaller. Or maybe I am just bigger, no longer half-starved and crazy. The metal bed frame stands next to me, pushed to the wall of the cell with only a mouldy, soggy mattress and pillow on top. A small window sits high up on the back wall, with claw marks on the wall underneath from when I tried to reach it. On the wall opposite me and hidden after the barred door is a pot and another stone wall. This one mark
ed up with chalk. Line after line, each one representing a day I survived. My head hits the wall as I stare at the ceiling. It’s just another head game, another way to remind me of what I am, but this time it won’t work.

  “Doc, you okay?” I ask eventually, needing to fill the quiet.

  “Fucking peachy,” he grumbles, and I snort.

  “Why did they take you?” I ask, confused. Vasilisy makes sense, but Doc?

  Vasilisy starts laughing and I look over at him with an arched eyebrow look. “What?” I ask when he just chuckles. I glance at Doc to see his face is bright red and he is looking at everything but me.

  “Your Doc here, he decided to tag along. Some shit about protecting ya, keeping ya alive,” Vasilisy says through chuckles and I look back at Evan with a wide-eyed look.

  “Doc, why?” I ask eventually, truly shocked. Why the hell would he volunteer to come with me?

  “Someone has to keep your crazy ass alive. You think those boyfriends of yours won’t kill me if you die? Nope, I like my cock where it is, thank you. So, you better keep your crazy ass in this world.” With that, he shuffles away, and I hear him slide down the wall in his cell.

  A grin stretches my face even as I call out, “I knew you liked me, Doc.”

  “Fuck off,” comes the muttered reply.

  I laugh and let the conversation die.

  Ivar leaves us down here for hours, trying to make us panic and do something stupid. It doesn’t work, so I wait patiently. Knowing with each hour I am down here is another hour my men are out there looking for me.

  “Walk faster,” says the Berserker guard. He grabbed me about ten minutes ago, leaving a screaming, angry Vasilisy behind, and a narrow-eyed Doc. I glare at the guy before speeding up. He stops me at a familiar room and knocks on the door before stepping back and leaning against the wall. When it opens, I throw one last glare at the guard.

  “Welcome back, slave,” he says with a grin.

  I don’t reply before stepping into the sitting room, or as Ivar calls it, his play chamber. The room is dark, the curtain pulled shut tight, so the only light is the fire roaring in the corner of the cold room. I shiver but don’t try to cover any more of my skin, it won’t make a difference, he keeps it cold as another form of punishment. I don’t know where he is, but I run my eyes around the room. It’s the same, and not, all at the same time. Two sofas face each other near the fire, and that’s where the cozy part of the room ends. A rack of weapons runs the length of the wall on the other end of the room with tables underneath filled with his torture equipment, or toys as he calls them. The last time I was here, there was a creepy statue I used to lock my eyes on in the corner of the room, but it now lays in pieces on the floor, like he broke it and wouldn’t let anyone fix it. The massive painting of the castle surrounded by flames has knife marks through it and hangs at a wonky angle. It looks like someone went on a rampage.

  “I missed you, pet,” comes his voice from somewhere in the darkness. I squint as I look for him.

  He steps out of the shadows and the fire lights up his face. The flames twisting and dancing across the burn scars. I don’t bother replying, not willing to play his games.

  “You know I don’t like it when you ignore me,” he growls, the anger in his voice rising. “What do you say to that, pet?” he growls the last and steps closer again. I know what he wants me to say, but I seal my lips shut and instead, offer him a fuck off smile.

  I watch the moment he snaps and, in a detached sort of way, wonder why I decided to push him. The lock clicks loudly in the room as he turns away from the door and walks to his toys. I wait there, like a statue, for whatever he will do. As long as he doesn’t kill me, I can survive it.

  When he decides on his toy, he turns back to me, his eyes alight with the need for pain and suffering. I offer him nothing, my face blank and my mind already drifting away to happier times.

  I must have drifted more than I thought because he appears in front of me at the same time something digs into my arm. Looking down, I stare at the pliers clipped onto my skin––interesting choice. He only usually goes for those when he wants to take his time. He pulls back, leaving two cuts that slowly trickle blood down my skin.

  “We are going to have some fun, pet. How I missed you,” he mutters, caressing my face with the pliers before he runs them across my lips, cheek, and finally to my ear. I stumble when he clips the skin there, but I swallow the scream and straighten my stance. When I don’t react he throws his toy away.

  “I want you to scream for me,” he threatens, his voice low.

  I smile at him again. “Not a chance. Cut me, hit me, bite me, break me, but I will never scream. Not ever again.”

  He lets out a horrible yell and goes mad, full Berserker, nothing but insanity in his eyes. I don’t even try and protect myself as punches and kicks rain down on me. I revel in the pain, letting it consume me.

  Minutes blur together, and I find myself in a gasping heap on the floor as his booted foot smashes into my ribs. I hear them crack and I bite my lip to hold in my howl. It goes on and on, him screaming at me the whole way through. Telling me he missed me, he hates me. That I am his. When he has purged his system, he stumbles away as if drunk, and lands on one of the sofas and stares at me as I lay on the floor on my side. I watch in disgust as he buries his hand in his pants, gasping and groaning at my blood coating his cock. I push myself to my knees and then to my feet. Not looking at him as I hear him jerk himself off. He comes with a pathetic sounding groan and seems to forget about me for five minutes. When he remembers I am there, he walks over and kisses my cheek before slipping out of the door. Once he has gone, I let out a sigh, my body screaming at me. At this point I don’t know how I am still standing.

  The guard from outside comes back in, he takes one look at me and sighs, his eyes turning sad for a moment before he covers it up. “Come on, slave.” He doesn’t touch me, but I follow him as he leads me back down to the cells. I nearly fall down the stairs, my legs hurt that much but he catches me, and without a word, helps me walk the rest of the way. At this point, I can feel myself shutting down, I lean on him even more and he basically carries me. Opening the cell door, he walks me towards the bed and lays me down gently even as Vasilisy and Evan scream questions and insults at him.

  I look into his face as he arranges my body, wincing when he looks at me, he looks defeated. “Thank you,” I mutter, and he jerks before his eyes meet mine.

  “Don’t–don’t ever thank me. Not for this, god not for this.” He stumbles away and runs away like the hounds of hell are on his tail, only just remembering to lock my cell before he leaves.

  I breathe through the pain, I can hear them calling me but I can’t answer just yet. I feel like if I open my mouth, the scream I held in will come out and might never stop.

  “Please, little queen, talk to me,” Vasilisy begs, and it’s the desperation in his voice that gets me going.

  “I’m okay,” I say as loud as I can before I start hacking out coughs, each one jarring my bruised ribs, searing my insides.

  “Like the hell you are,” Evan yells, making me smile as I close my eyes and settle back.

  “I’ve had worse, don’t worry about it. Try and get some rest, they will be planning something tomorrow.”

  Evan grumbles but I hear him shuffle and then get on his creaky bed. Vasilisy’s breathing is so loud I can hear it from here, and it’s surprisingly comforting.

  “Sing to me?” I ask, allowing my weakness to show for one second.

  He doesn’t answer but a soft, loving song pours from his mouth, wrapping me up in the story about a woman and a man who run away to be together and build a house on a lake. As my eyes are fluttering shut, I get a few more words out. “Thank you, Vassy.”

  His song stutters to a stop. “Anytime, little queen, anything for you,” he replies vehemently, sounding choked up. He’s quiet for a few minutes before his song starts up again and I find myself lost in his words.

&
nbsp; Missed You, Pet

  The days blur in a mixture of pain and anger. My body is getting accustomed to the pain, but the humiliation is the worst. I forgot what it felt like to be treated like nothing but a slave… a pet. The comments and barbs, the wandering hands. All meant to break me, but it won’t.

  Every day Ivar plays his games. Sometimes just him and me, and sometimes with the others. Every night Vasilisy, Evan, and I sit and talk. We tell each other stories, sing, even joke. Just to show each other that we are there. On the nights where my body is broken, and it hurts to move and I don’t want to talk, I curl up in my bed and they sing to me. Transporting me to magical places. Yet, the whole time I am thinking. I am scheming, planning my way to kill him and his men. Because I will. I will do it with my last fucking breath if I have to.

  Today was no different than the other days. Ivar took us outside and made us fight his men. I was weak, slower than ever before. Half starved and body hurting, but I still managed to kick some ass. Afterwards, Ivar was so angry that we won the fights, he threw a hissy fit and locked us back up, taking his rage out on his men. Better them than us.

  It means we have more time than normal down here in what Evan is calling our party house––don’t ask. Somewhere along the line, we became friends, and he let go of his attitude. Even Vassy likes him.