by K Hanson
Part of her leapt with excitement at the chance to head out to sea again. She always felt some exhilaration in her gut when the time came to set sail. The sea called to her whenever she was on land and being on the water was where she was meant to be. Another part of her felt guilty for enjoying the idea of being at sea. Nereyda had barely gotten a punishment compared to her crew and friends, who were now on the way to the mines. Twenty years in that godforsaken place was an eternity. She had known people who had received short sentences of a year or two there. That alone had been enough to break them into shells and shadows of their former selves. Of the pirates she had known that went there, none of them ever wanted to set sail again.
Hopefully, her position as navigator would give her a little more freedom to engineer her escape. She would play along with Erhan for the first part of the mission. She probably wouldn’t be able to earn his full trust, but if she proved her abilities as a capable navigator, he might give her some more leeway in plotting a course.
The thought of going to the Shattered Sea did scare her, though. The Shattered Sea got its name from how the islands looked like pieces of shattered glass. On a map, the area looked like a continent had broken apart. Nobody knew for sure how it happened. The religious people of the world believed that the gods had smashed it as a punishment. Aside from that, the most popular theory was that a giant volcano had erupted in an explosion, tearing the landmass to pieces.
Whatever the cause, it made for a treacherous place to sail. Storms were frequent, and marauders that would make her crew look like saints lurked among the broken islands. Or so the stories went. Nereyda had never been to that desolate expanse of ocean. Captain Nogre had always avoided it, and when she became captain, Nereyda had followed his lead. Even with her navigation skills and aptitude for reading the sea, such a place would prove a true test of her abilities.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brynja woke from the rumbling beneath her as the wagon ground to a halt. She lifted her head and realized that she had been resting against Jim. In the cramped prison wagon, there wasn’t enough space for everyone to sprawl out, so they had been forced to lay on top of each other. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Brynja gazed out into the foggy morning around them.
In front of the convoy of wagons, a massive wall rose out of the ground. Numerous towers lined the wall. She saw dozens of guards, walking on top of the wall and stationed in the towers. The walls were pitch black, representing the lack of hope of ever leaving their bounds again. A black iron gate loomed menacingly above the road.
One of the guards stationed at the gate walked back and examined each wagon, checking the paperwork that the officer leading the convoy had presented. He counted each of the prisoners and compared the number to what the forms said. When he seemed content that the numbers matched up, he walked back to the gate and signaled the men operating the mechanism that opened it.
The massive iron doors creaked as they lurched open. As the doorway widened, the wagon train began moving again to carry them into the mining complex.
Just inside the gate at the base of the wall, a barracks stood, along with an archery range and a stable, surrounded by a wooden palisade. Brynja looked along the wall and saw other similar compounds at the other gates and beneath some of the towers. Each of them must house the guards from that section of the wall.
Throughout the interior of the walled area, large mounds rose from the ground. Brynja examined the nearest one as the wagon passed. A flat side featured a black wrought iron gate. From an opening in the wall, a conveyor belt carried bits of rock and dumped them into a cart on tracks. The tracks themselves led away and toward a building with a plume of black smoke rising from the roof, suggesting that it was a smelter to refine whatever they were mining in the ground below.
On top of each mound, stone chimneys rose, though smoke only billowed from some of them. Every mound had them, presumably so that air could be pumped into the mine. Brynja wondered if each mound represented its own mine or if they were all somehow connected.
After passing a cluster of the mining mounds, their wagons drove by a large trench where a group of guards tossed piles of rags from a wagon. Except, she soon realized that they weren’t rags. She was looking at a mass grave for anyone who passed away in the mines. A breeze blew toward the convoy and over the trench, carrying with it the scent of decay. Brynja gagged at the rank odor.
The grave stretched for hundreds of yards. She wondered what they did when the grave filled up or if they ever ran out of space. Then she realized that she didn’t want the answers to her questions. As if the guard that sat next to the driver of the cart could sense what she thought, he turned back to look at her and said, “That’s actually only a fraction of the dead here.” He gave a grim smile. “Most of the corpses are burned, but we keep the pits going so that we can drive new prisoners by them. We want you to know what to expect while you’re here.”
“Is knowing what to expect supposed to make us feel better?”
“The opposite. In fact, ending up in the pits is a relief to most. It doesn’t take long for people to break here. And we will break you,” he said as he turned back around.
The wagon convoy stopped in front of one of the mounds. A guard came to each of the carts and unlocked the cages that contained the prisoners. As each of them stepped onto the ground, they were ushered into a line in front of the metal gate. Once all of the carts had been emptied and each of the new slaves lined up, a guard tapped twice on the gate, and it slid open to reveal a dimly lit corridor.
They did not all just march into the mine as Brynja had expected. Instead, the guards shoved the prisoners into the entrance one at a time. Several minutes would pass before the guards admitted the next person. With the dim light in the entrance, she could not see what was happening to the prisoners as they entered. She just knew that none of them reemerged from the mine. Standing in the back of the line, she knew that it would be quite a while before it was her turn to go in.
Morning turned into afternoon, and the clouds gave way to bright sunlight. Brynja shifted in her place in line, her legs getting stiff from standing in line for what must have been hours. The shackles made her ankles and wrists itch and ache. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since their single meager meal on the road yesterday. She sweated into her clothes and felt her mouth dry up.
She tried to speak to the closest guard but, as the words hit her parched throat, they came out as a coughing fit. When she stopped, she tried again. “Can we get some water?” With her dry throat, she produced the words as a rasp.
“What was that?” asked the guard. “I didn’t hear you.” He made no effort to come closer
She strained to speak louder, but couldn’t manage anything louder than a whisper. “Water, please.”
“I still can’t understand a word you’re saying, prisoner. But if you’re trying to ask for something, you won’t get it from me or anyone else while you’re in line.”
Brynja looked away from him and saw that only a few more people stood ahead of her now. While she waited, she tried to think of the most delicious food she had eaten. Fried fish, a juicy steak, anything to get her mouth to water so she could wet her throat. Nothing worked, and she remained stuck with her thirst for now.
Even when she was the next person in line, she did not see much. A guard pushed the person in front of her into the entrance and led him into a room at the side. After waiting several minutes, the wooden door opened and a guard waved to indicate that it was Brynja’s turn to go in. The prisoner in front of her had not returned.
As the guard gave her a shove into the cavern and toward the room, Brynja staggered from the brilliant sunlight of the clear day outside into the orange glow of the torchlit mine. She shuffled into the small chamber. The thud of the door shutting behind her surprised her.
Glancing back, she saw another guard at the door. In the middle of the room, a man sat at a table using a pen to fill out some pa
perwork. Across the room, another small door remained shut. That must be where the other prisoners went after whatever happened here. A small fireplace burned in the corner, filling the space with a comfortable warmth. A damp and smoky smell wafted through the room.
A long moment passed without anyone saying anything, then the man at the table stood up and walked over to her. He did not speak to her, just poked and prodded her body. His hands ran over her arms, legs, and back, squeezing her muscles. After he had finished his examination, he walked to the fireplace and pulled out a rod, which had an insignia at the end, glowing red from the fire. As he returned to Brynja, the guard behind her stepped up to roll her sleeve up over her shoulder.
She realized what was happening. “What is this? You’re branding us like cattle?” Brynja tried to pull away, but the guard grabbed her shoulders and held her in place.
“Yes, in a way. This stamp is your assignment in the mine. We examine you to determine where you end up. You’re one of our more physically fit specimens so you will end up our assigned to iron ore section. Not surprising, considering your hard life at sea. Don’t worry, though, your crew will be with you.”
As the man lifted the brand, Brynja kicked out behind her, hitting the guard that held her.
He let go with a grunt of pain.
She turned to face him. While he grabbed the leg where she had kicked him, she shoved him against the wall and pulled his sword from the sheath on his hip. She slammed the pommel of the sword into his belly, and he collapsed to the floor, clutching his stomach and gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of him.
Spinning around to face the doctor, she pointed the blade at him. “Drop the brand.”
He ignored her and kept it raised at her. “What are you trying to accomplish? There’s no way this ends well for you.”
“Maybe not, but it won’t end well for you either if you keep holding that brand. I told you to drop it.”
The man let the brand fall from his grasp and held his hands up in surrender. As the red-hot end landed, it hissed as it burned the floor. “Trust me. You don’t want to keep doing this.”
Both doors slammed open, and guards rushed into the room. There were six in total surrounding her as she backed against the wall.
“If you don’t drop the sword and surrender now,” said the doctor, “you’ll be spending your first week in one of the deep cells.
She looked around the room at the swords pointing in her direction, pointing her own blade at each of them in turn. “Maybe I should just fight and make you kill me now.”
“They’re not allowed to kill you now. They’ll just maim you and make the rest of your short life as miserable as possible,” said the doctor. “I won’t warn you again. Drop the sword.”
Brynja held the grip and considered fighting back anyway. Then, she thought of the rest of the crew members that waited for her in the mines. With Nereyda enslaved to that commander, they needed a leader to get them through this. For their sake, she relaxed her hand and let the sword fall to the ground.
“Very good,” said the doctor. “Guards, hold her. I don’t want any more surprises.”
As he knelt to pick up the brand, two guards grabbed her and shoved her up against the wall. They held her there while the doctor stuck the brand into the fire to reheat the end. After a few minutes, with Brynja still pressed into the stone wall, he walked over and lifted the brand to her left shoulder. She gritted her teeth as she waited for the red-hot metal to touch her. He pressed the hot metal into her skin.
A primal scream escaped her lips as the brand burned its mark into her. Even as the doctor pulled the brand away, her arm ached and the scent of seared flesh hung in the air.
The doctor grabbed a rag from a bucket of water and dabbed it on the fresh wound. “Now you can join the rest of your friends in the mine.” He waved her to the other door in the corner.
A guard opened the door, and Brynja clutched her burned shoulder as she walked through the doorway. She emerged into a dark passage with a low ceiling. Prisoners lined both sides of the corridor, most of them slumped against the wall and some of them still rubbing their arms where they had been branded.
Brynja began to sit down, but a guard walked over. “No sitting. You’ll stand until we have everyone and can go into the mine.” She glared at him but didn’t bother with trying to argue.
Like the others, she leaned against the wall. She shut her eyes and dozed until the other prisoners had gotten through the branding process.
“Time to move,” shouted a voice, making Brynja open her eyes. She pushed off of the wall and stood up straight. Looking down the passage, she saw the guards herding the prisoners back into line. Once they had been put into formation, they shuffled down the gradual incline until they reached what looked like a dead end. At first, it appeared to be a room, but as she walked into it, she realized that it was more of a cage. She made the mistake of looking down. Below, only a pit of darkness opened. A draft blew up from wherever the pit led.
The prisoners were shoved into the space until bodies pressed into Brynja from all sides. She wrinkled her nose at the odor of dozens of people who hadn’t bathed in days. Many had soiled themselves in the long wait without a break for relief, which only added to the pungent scent. When everyone had at last been loaded into the space, guards slid a door of iron bars across the entrance, and the cage began to rumble as it descended into the darkness.
The elevator contained no torches, so the only visible light came from the hallway above them. As they left that light behind, another light below them grew brighter. When they reached the bottom, the doors opened into a corridor lined with small cells.
Guards escorted them as they put each of the prisoners into their assigned cells. Brynja looked around her own cell. On each side, it was barely long enough for her to lie down in the space. The only thing that could be considered furniture was a slab of wood that lay on top of posts that raised it off the ground. Aside from that poor approximation of a bed, the cell was empty. It even lacked anything for waste.
She turned around and looked at one of the guards. “Are we just supposed to sleep on that?”
“No,” he said. “You’ll get a bedroll. Just be patient.”
Eventually, a guard did bring her a thin blanket that they had decided to call a bedroll. Brynja saw that it had a stain, but in the dim light, she couldn’t make out what it was. She also received a wooden bucket for waste.
This would be her home for the foreseeable future. From what Brynja had seen on the way in, she didn’t think the crew would last for their full sentence in the mines. Their only hope would be if they could either find a way to escape or if Nereyda came through on her promise to break them out. It would take a miracle for either to be possible.
“Lights out in five minutes,” said one of the guards from the end of the hall. “Tomorrow, you’ll start your first work shift in the mine.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Golden light from the morning sun poured in through the large aft windows, illuminating the cabin where Nereyda sat at the chart table. Behind the ship, a clear blue sky soared above the rolling ocean. The wind was with them as they headed northwest toward the Shattered Sea
Reaching their first checkpoint had been simple, taking only four days as Nereyda had predicted for the course she had charted. Now, she had to sift through the charts for the Shattered Sea itself. Commander Erhan had left it up to her to figure out a good patrol path while he went on deck to captain the ship.
Nereyda studied the maps spread out before her on dry parchment yellowed by age. Until looking through these maps, Nereyda had not realized quite how large an expanse the Shattered Sea covered. It, and the thousands of islands it contained, sprawled over an area just as large as the main continent. Narrow channels and straits crisscrossed the region as if someone had etched a maze into the surface of the world. Many of them seemed to radiate from the center of the sea like a gigantic spider web. Whatever create
d it, she didn’t quite believe that something could have enough power to fracture a whole continent.
As she ran her eyes over the multitude of charts, she observed quite a variety in the amount of information that each provided. Some displayed quite detailed and thorough information, with dots and names for known settlements, arrows for currents, and written warnings about dangerous weather patterns. Others featured notes about where someone had thought they had seen something or where a ship had been attacked by marauders and had gone no further. A few had question marks scattered over them. Nereyda noticed that the further the charts were from the continent, the less information was available. Her job was to plot a course into those unknown regions so that they could fill in some more of the blanks.
Of course, Erhan did not know about her own side objective of finding a place where she could jump ship. She needed a spot close enough to a large island so that she could slip away and hide, in case Erhan decided to look for her. On top of that, she would need a settlement where she might be able to hire or steal a boat to get her back to the continent. Even if she found a good place, she knew that it would be a long shot to pull it off. Still, it would be worth it if it meant a chance at finding a way to pull her crew out of the mines.
On one chart, she noticed a dot for an unnamed village on the northern tip of a long narrow island. It was situated deep within the Shattered Sea and sat just on the edge of the unknown regions, but it just might be her best shot. Nereyda marked the course through the channel that ran next to the village and pushed the charts aside.
After rubbing her eyes, she swept her gaze over the room. Erhan kept his room impeccably tidy. The bed had been made with military precision, the floor swept clean of any dirt, and the other chairs at the table were all pushed in.