Chapter 8: Interlude
[Looking back on past events can sometimes stir emotions once thought gone.]
~Rinkyu~
~11th day of Avis, Year 1400~
The click-clack of the caravan colliding with the loose stones on what could be called a “road” was white noise after weeks, months, and years. The sound of the horses off-sync breathing and huffing was the only thing now that broke the monotony. Those in the back of these carts were forbidden from talking unless first addressed by one of the drivers, and even a cough or a sniffle would cause them to shout or hit the bars separating the “merchants” from the “products”.
Rinkyu laid against the corner of her cart, rubbing her hard podotheca legs hidden poorly by her rags – they were thinner than a Hjina’s, but quicker and more powerful than any other species she’d met. The scars around her neck and her young age caused her to be marked much lower, but the fact that she was a half-breed Retura of unknown parentage fluctuated her worth drastically. Was she a rare find, or a useless mouth to feed? Every buyer so far had chosen to play it safe, passing over her in favor of more “prominent” products. She was too young to be seen as a sexual conquest, and oddly muscular for a servant – she was skinny in any case, which put off the rest of her potential buyers.
This was not to say she was of no use – the slavers made good use of her strength whenever the cart got stuck, since she was just as strong as the men. She was useful to the caravan, which was probably the only reason she hadn’t been put down yet. Rinkyu was, unfortunately, reaching fourteen soon; the age that child slaves were normally dealt with if not sold. This was due to the hormones that came about around that age, which caused them to be either rebellious or despondent due to lack of stimuli.
In preparation for runaways, each slave had been branded with a bird-shaped mark flowing with Fire Essence, which would burn intensely when the owner remotely activated their Essence. For Rinkyu, this mark was on her left collarbone – it had activated once when she was new to the caravan, to give an example of how bad it would hurt. It was a long-range, long-lasting spell that gave each and every slave hesitation from escaping or defying their masters.
From her spot in the back corner of the cart, Rinkyu could hear almost everything said within and outside, even at the driver’s seat almost six meters away. There were always two up there, talking and laughing, sometimes venting, sometimes drinking, almost always smoking. Usually, they discussed the slaves that they thought would sell best at the next location – usually, it was one of the more voluptuous females or well-endowed males, though occasionally a Retura child would draw the short straw.
Today, however, they were arguing. Rinkyu had enough linguistic skills to understand their Common Irian chatter, though some words still escaped her.
“I’m telling you, if we go through the Doreta Abandonment, we’ll be able to cut through that plateau between Capse and Aheya!” the one on the left urged. He wore a green fez hat with a blue string tied to the top and a bronze metal wrap around the base – extravagant, even for a merchant.
“You always suggest that,” the driver on the right growled. He had a more rotund body and lots of dark brown hair, including a full beard. “It’s preferred NOT to pass through there, it’s too close to Saruja. Besides, the bog would slow us down.”
“The bog is only an issue for carts without the muscle to push.” Green-Hat grinned through the bars, looking directly at Rinkyu, who stared back weakly and with resentment. “We’ve got plenty of help.”
They went back and forth for a few minutes, then got oddly quiet. A chuckle emanated from the head of the cart, and the driver called back: “Bodoh! We’re stopping here for a bit!” That was one of the words she couldn’t understand.
The two carts pulled over, and the slaves migrated towards the door – there was a slit along the side that allowed them to peer out, though the door itself was reinforced and locked from the outside. Rinkyu hesitantly made her way to see as well.
The two at the head jumped off the cart and squared off on the side. Green-Hat had something gripped in his palm – as he twisted his hand outward, it appeared to be a coin. “Heads, we follow the regular route! Tails, we go through the bog!”
They were serious. A coin flip to determine if they were taking the safe path? Rinkyu felt stones in her gut as the coin flicked up through the air. The slaves watched in collective silence – it didn’t matter to them either way. One path was possible death by poison, the other was possible death by abuse. Either way, they were still slaves – if anything, the poison would be preferable.
Rinkyu was not of the same mind as them – she was aggressively aware that even if they didn’t get stuck, the potency of the poison gases emanating from the bog could easily kill any slave that was less-than-healthy (which was painfully common in these wide-spanning caravans), and even those that survived could be vomiting or otherwise sick for days on end after exiting. The very idea of going through a poison bog rather than a certified route was brazen and stupid – though, she knew she shouldn’t voice her concerns.
The coin landed on Green-Hat’s palm, and he slapped it onto the back of his other hand before revealing the result.
“Tails!” he exclaimed. “I assure you this is the quickest way, kawan!”
The driver rolled his eyes at the result. “Saya rasa, it’s just going to be riskier. I want at least four of them on guard duty when we get stuck.” He pointed to the other cart; there were three people in the driver’s seat of the other cart, who were taking the reprieve to smoke. There were also three more slavers on the back of each cart, Rinkyu knew, but from the small window she had, she couldn’t see them.
“If the product gets lost in a bog like that, we’ll take a significant loss.”
Green-Hat waved his hand, saying, “You think too much about the negatives! Everything will be fine!” With that, the two of them headed back to their seats. “Let’s move, kawan!” he called to the other cart. “We’re taking a shortcut!”
There was a collective shout from each of the slavers in the unknown language, more than likely approving the notice. There was a shuffling sound on the back of the cart, and the crack of whips from the heads was followed closely by the whinny of the horses, and they were once again moving.
***
The road to the Doreta Abandonment was rough and bumpy – because the area had been abandoned for over five years, the formerly-paved roads to and from it were in great disrepair, from both erosion and Baael activity. This was another thing that bothered Rinkyu about their decision: Baael were more common in places that used to have life, so the abandonment and the bog would be dangerous to stay in for any measure of time.
By the time the caravan reached the outskirts of Doreta, night had fallen quietly. There was a faint acrid scent of rotting plants and burnt carbon; the bog’s boundary was almost three kilometers away, but reached this far. Rinkyu – and likely the other beastkin – could vaguely make out the scent of blood, weak and long-gone as it may have been.
The slavers put stakes in the ground to tie up the horses, and two from the back of Rinkyu’s cart began unloading the cooking equipment. Today was going to be soup, based on the large pot being set up. While the other cart set up a separate pot for the slavers’ meals, the slaves were usually given one of three meals: soup (sometimes with bread), military rations, or when the seasons caused buyers to be stingy, grain meal. None of their options were particularly filling, but soup was usually the best-tasting.
“Kami berhenti untuk kem!” Green-Hat called out to one of the other slavers, who opened the cart latches. Everyone was familiar with that phrase, whether they knew what it actually meant or not – it meant they were allowed to come out, sometimes to eat, sometimes to be whipped. If he said it with anger, it was more likely to be punishment, but this time, he said it without a noticeable tone.
The slaves exited each cart in pairs (Rinkyu was the last one out, aside from a full-blooded wolf-Retura child; she had heard the slavers call him an Okami). They lined up in four rows beside the carts, though one Sichie male was vigorously glancing towards a space between the carts and the slavers. Green-Hat walked to the front of the group as the remaining slavers either cooked or watched. They had new tools in their arms – usually they held bats, swords, or whips, but at least four of them now held long tools made of metal and wood. It was less like any weapon that Rinkyu had seen before, so it was worrying what it may be used for.
“We are travelling for two more days,” he addressed, “and you will not be eating during breaks during this time! Your generous leaders have decided to give each of you a larger portion than usual for today, so be grateful!”
One of the slavers started filling bowls, and another pulled out five long loaves of bread, which he started separating into portions. Many of the slaves could smell that it was at most a few days old – there was no scent of mold or staleness, and it even looked softer than their usual rations.
As the slaves lined up to receive their meals, the Sichie man from earlier broke into a mad dash while the slavers were relatively relaxed. Usually, they would shout and start chasing down the slaves that did this, and the slave would receive a whipping and a loss of food.
Green-Hat aimed the thin end of his new tool in the direction of the slave – none of the other slavers made a move towards the escapee, but moved out of the path of the tool. There was a loud sound and a burst of light near the handle of his tool, and every slave covered their ears in response. Rinkyu saw something exit the end of the tool at an incredible speed, and after a moment, the Sichie fell to the ground with a bloody hole in his side.
The other slaves watched in horrified shock as one of the other slavers went to retrieve the escapee, and Green-Hat turned to address the group once again.
“This is called a gun. If you try to escape, we no longer have to chase.” He showed a toothy, sickly grin, and added, “Keep that in mind.”
The other man returned a minute later with the Sichie – he wasn’t dead, but he was obviously in a great amount of pain. He was thrown into his cart after the slaver patched his wound, and curled into the corner, probably regretting his choice.
Rinkyu had never tried to escape – the inexplicable terror that grasped her after seeing what happened to every attempted escapee until now was more than enough to keep her in line. She kept her head to the ground and made as little of a mark as possible. Now, with these guns, she had even less desire to try and run.
She sat down with her bowl and bread in the corner of the encampment; the spot she chose every time they stopped for breaks. It was out-of-the-way enough that she wouldn’t be bothered by most other slaves, but close enough to the rest of the group that the slavers wouldn’t harass her. She also had a good view of everyone in the camp: most of the slaves gathered in small groups, since this was their only opportunity to chat and talk without being yelled at or struck. It was still relatively quiet around the camp; as relaxing as it may have been, their circumstances were unchanged, and their futures uncertain.
After a few minutes of solitude, the Okami child approached her and sat about a meter away. His fur was jet-black and about an inch long – Rinkyu thought it may be fluffy to the touch, but held herself back from randomly petting another person. There were patches in his head fur with visible scars and burns on the skin, and his right ear was shorter than his left – it looked like someone had cut it partly off.
They sat in silence for a while as they ate, when the boy suddenly addressed her.
“My name is Caul,” he said quietly. “What’s your name?”
Rinkyu balked for a bit, but responded, “I’m Rinkyu.”
The boy’s ears twitched, and he faced his body towards hers a little. “Do you want to leave here?”
Rinkyu looked tiredly at him – not out of hate or anger, but out of defeat. Children who had just become slaves were incredibly optimistic for the first year or so; even Rinkyu had held onto the hope that she would eventually be released for almost three. It was naivety to no fault of Caul’s own, but she was unsure if she should provide him with the hope that he would one day be free, or pull him into harsh reality. She weighed these thoughts while watching him – he was still new enough that he hadn’t seen slave death (though the Sichie from earlier could still die if his wound wasn’t properly treated, Rinkyu knew).
“We all want to leave here,” she finally responded, “but it’s not easy.” She pointed secretly to the guards, who were drinking and making merry while watching the slaves with careful eyes. “Those men are strong and dangerous, and don’t want us to leave.”
Caul’s pinna drooped, and his eyes softened sadly. “They won’t ever let us leave?”
Rinkyu shook her head. “We’re merchandise to them and the people they deal with. We’re worth money, so they sell us to people who use us as tools.” She glared at the ground. “If we’re lucky, someone nice will buy us.”
Caul watched Rinkyu quietly as she sipped the last bit of soup in her bowl. “Do as they say and work hard, and they won’t beat you as much or yell at you. It’s called ‘keeping your head down’. It’s what I do.”
She looked at him, expecting him to be holding back tears. To her surprise, his face was now confident, though it was clear he wanted to express his sadness.
“I don’t want to be a tool following orders. I want to be a person with a life. You can’t give up just because you’re at the bottom.”
Rinkyu felt her mind tighten. He was a brave kid, and he was incredibly resilient. Worry flooded her mind as she imagined him standing up to one of the slavers, and the brief moment it would take for them to end his life. Rinkyu, for some strange reason, felt a powerful empathy towards him.
I want to protect this kid. Her mind and body were in agreement – she would not let this boy die as long as she lived. Involuntarily, she patted Caul’s head gently – he was a little startled by this sudden affection at first, but did not stop her. After about a minute, he twitched and pushed her hand away gently.
“Personal space!” he said jokingly.
They talked generally about themselves in their brief reprieve. Caul was sold into slavery by his maid after his family died in a Baael strike in Miral, and was sold off four times before coming to this caravan. He remembered his family’s faces, but had a painful migraine whenever their mannerisms or actions came to mind. All he could really remember was that there were five of them, including the maid and him, and there was always the scent of Perdue Blossoms around them all. He had to explain that Perdue Blossoms were violet and blue with sharp, wide leaves, and a scent of fresh water and sugarcane.
“What was your past like, Rinkyu? Before the caravan?”
Rinkyu took a pause to think – most of the memories she still held onto weren’t expressly about the people in her past, but rather, the library her parents had built. Every shelf had books flowing with knowledge on Essence, fauna and flora of the Alhosian deserts, and social exercises (that, to this day, seemed fake to her). The technical stuff was mostly gibberish to her, but it was all useful knowledge whenever and if it ever came up.
“It was mostly reading books. Most of them I couldn’t understand, but I remember every letter and pronunciation, so I listen for similar words to work out meanings.”
Caul said, with a face of envy and respect, “You’re really smart, then. That’s amazing!”
The carts were reloaded before they rested – the slavers told them as they reentered the carts that they would press on in six hours. This was the slaves’ warning to sleep with relative comfort, as opposed to the rough shaking of the carts while they were in motion. By Rinkyu’s estimate, they would reach the bog about an hour or so into the drive – this was the second time her captors would attempt this shortcut, though last time was a mad dash through the bog due to an unplanned Baael attack when they entered… though she suspected this time wouldn’t be much better.
Caul had moved to a spot near her – they weren’t close enough to touch, but Rinkyu felt an uncommon relaxation with him nearby. She closed her eyes after about an hour, the moonlight barely illuminating the camp, and the three guards stationed close by were talking in hushed voices every now and then. For a while, her mind shut off completely – no dreams, no extreme thoughts, no fear.
~12th day of Avis, Year 1400~
Rinkyu woke the next morning to the feeling of her head bumping the cart’s floor – they had apparently started moving while she was asleep, and her drifting had been deeper than she’d thought possible. They were moving a little faster than usual, to her surprise; despite their excitement taking this route, the slavers were still smart enough not to linger in a Baael-infested area for too long. Caul was curled up next to Rinkyu, his ears flat and tail coiled around his legs in an effort to stay warm. She gently patted him, careful not to wake him.
A word came from the driver that curdled her blood instantly. She wasn’t sure if it was a word or a name, but the driver kept repeating it in sentences addressing Green-Hat. It was as if it was a new word he was excited to share with him… but something about how he said it put her on edge.
“It’s got to be Thlibosys,” the driver whispered shakily. “The new Prime Baael that was discovered last month… It’s got to be the Thlibosys. It’s the only one we haven’t seen here.”
“Breathe, kawan, breathe,” Green-Hat murmured back. “We’re going to make it out.”
Rinkyu peered out the back of the cart – like the sides, there was a small, thin window where one could look out and see behind. Normally, the second cart would be about eight meters behind, give or take a few, but right now, she saw nothing behind.
Nothing, save a large black-and-violet creature chasing after the cart. It had long limbs that seemed to shift in length from a meter to several meters at most, and its head was the shape of a giant black almond, with four cracks around the edges emitting a dark light for eyes.
Green-Hat was quietly berating the driver as they slowed the horses, much to everyone’s horror. A small chatter began among the slaves, but Green-Hat was quick to shush them with a whack on the bars. “Silence, sampah!” he warned, though careful not to raise his voice too much. “We’ve already lost enough today.”
The horses had slowed to a gentle trot, and the giant Baael was wandering in a snake-like pattern around the bog behind them. It was apparent to Rinkyu (and likely to the slavers) that this creature was sightless – it seemed to hunt based on sound and movement, though they were maintaining a careful speed while trying to outpace it. It didn’t seem too smart, but it was definitely too big to ignore, especially if it was the cause of the missing cart. To Rinkyu’s horror, its right hand lifted from the ground and unfolded, revealing the remnants of half the second cart, occupants and all, reduced to wooden shrapnel and blood stains. The remains of the cart made a loud crashing sound as it hit the exposed, rotting roots of a large tree.
Caul woke from this sound, startled. “What is-”
Rinkyu covered his mouth quickly and pointed out the peephole. “Baael,” she muttered. “Quiet.”
Caul looked, made a face of shock, and after a few moments, nodded. Rinkyu removed her hand from his mouth slowly.
“What now?” they heard the driver whisper. “We didn’t plan for this much of a problem! We’ve lost half of our product, and half of our staff!” He made a gesture that appeared to be a self-blessing, if Rinkyu had to guess.
“It’s fine,” Green-Hat said, leering into the cage of the cart. “I think we have all we need to get out safely.”
Rinkyu’s eyes met Green-Hat’s for a moment as he scanned the available slaves… ending on Caul. He made a gesture over the top of the cart that Rinkyu couldn’t see, possibly to one of the slavers on the back.
One of them quietly and deftly jumped off and came around to the cage’s latch, which he unlocked. He waded through the horrified crowd, each one worried that they would be the bait. As he approached Caul, Rinkyu felt an intense internal conflict – the slavers would hurt her bad if she tried to intervene, but she knew she didn’t want Caul to be left here as an offering. She remembered the vow she made – as long as she lived, Caul would not die.
The slaver reached for Caul, and Caul’s face grew more and more fearful with the realization of what was happening.
“I don’t want to go,” he said quietly, his voice catching as he said it. It became louder as the man gripped Caul’s arm tight. “I don’t want to go.”
An incredible rage filled Rinkyu as her body refused to move. She forced her voice to come out, as strained as it sounded when it finally did.
“Don’t touch him.”
The slaver glared through Rinkyu. “Shut up, intet,” he growled. “You don’t know how lucky you are. Be grateful it’s just him.”
She felt an internal pain as she shoved her body between the slaver and Caul. An intense fear fought the rage she felt, but the rage maintained its control over her by an unreasonable metric.
“You will not hurt him,” she heard herself say. It was as if something had taken over her body, and was fighting all of her survival instincts to save Caul.
The slaver’s face curled into a baleful scowl, as he raised his hand to hit Rinkyu. She tightened her eyes in anticipation as she felt the painful sting of a heavily-muscled fist across her face. She heard a slight pop on her jaw as she flew across the cart, her head hitting the wall hard.
“Stupid brat,” he sneered. “If you want to die so badly, you can go out with him.” He grabbed Caul by his arm, and reached for Rinkyu quickly before she could recoil, gripping her by her hair and pulling hard.
The two slaves yelped in pain, and Green-Hat growled, “Be quiet, sampah!” There was a loud, long creaking sound coming from behind the cart as the Baael faced their direction, going deathly still for a few moments before continuing its search for whatever it was looking for.
The slaver gripped Rinkyu and Caul by the mouths, muting their screams and hurting their cheeks – his entire hand covered at least half of Rinkyu’s face, and made it difficult to breathe or see. She felt herself lift as she began kicking and scratching at the slaver, who ignored her completely. Despite her strength, he was undoubtedly stronger. He pulled them out of the cart and threw them onto the ground about five meters from the door.
Rinkyu held her cheek as she pushed herself up, watching the slaver run back to the cart and notify the driver that they were good to go. There was a brief pause of disbelief combined with the reeling of what had just happened as the cart rolled off slowly. It wouldn’t be hard to catch up to it at the speed it was moving, but the sense of hopelessness that washed over Rinkyu prevented her from trying. Besides that, she now had Caul in tow with her, who was sniffling quietly on the ground.
Rinkyu turned to face the giant Baael, which was still searching blindly for more violence – despite the noise they had made, it was still wandering aimlessly. Rinkyu thought to herself that it must be dull in its senses to not pick up quieter sounds. Baael didn’t need to eat, it was just a manifestation of desires from appearing in this world, thus hunting mortal creatures was more a sport than a need.
Rinkyu moved to help Caul up, wiping his face with the sleeve of her shirt. He was still fighting not to cry, even if some tears were leaking out. “What do we do now?” he whispered as quietly as he could. He had caught on quickly about the sound problem.
“We’re going to move that way quietly and quickly,” Rinkyu responded, pointing in a general eastward direction. Her life travelling with that caravan, however much she hated it, gave her a general overview of the Mial region and its surroundings, including the paths that closest bordered the slave-less nation of Saruja. “If we can get out of the bog, we’ll be able to make it to Saruja in about three days.”
They walked carefully through the withered vegetation, watching the Baael’s reaction to each and every sound. The sticky squishing sound of each step through the wet muck gave them stress as the Baael would straighten up in response for a minute or so before going back to searching. After about two hours of this tricky back-and-forth, they were out of it’s visual range, and to a point, out of its audible.
They traveled in quick silence for about an hour more before taking a break. They had found a section of the woods with a weakened gas presence and a dry patch with a small, low-hanging tree covering it. Rinkyu sat Caul in it and searched the surroundings quickly before deciding this was a safe spot.
“We’ll have to keep moving after about thirty minutes,” she told him. “It’s going to be rough, but it’ll lessen the need for medical treatment when we’re out.” She paused for a moment, looking over Caul for signs of fatigue or sickness. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” Caul responded. His tears were dried now, though his eyes were still red. Otherwise, he didn’t seem too affected by the bog. “The smell around here is bad, but I don’t think it’s poisonous to me. What about you?”
Rinkyu breathed in slowly and exhaled. There was a light burning sensation as the air moved in her lungs, but it wasn’t intense or painful yet.
“It’s not the best situation, but I’m doing okay. The last time we went through this bog, I noticed that my tolerance for poison was stronger than most.”
She sat down next to the tree; Caul followed suit briefly behind. “We’re going to need to find food and water as soon as we get out of the bog. There’s the chance that another caravan went through here before us unprepared, but we shouldn’t rely on that.”
She started drawing in the dirt in front of them. “It’s a sandy area right outside with some grassy hills, so stags and sandworms will be our best bet for food. There was a small pond abut three kilometers out, nearby the Saruja border, so once we get there, we’ll be safe.”
Rinkyu looked up to look at Caul, his face now in awe of her preparedness. “You really know this area,” he said, still astonished.
“The first few years I went through this area, I tried to plot an escape route, but I never had the chance to test it. Now that I have the chance, it’s going to work.” She said the statement uncomfortably, as if she wasn’t certain that it would.
“It has to work.”
***
The trek through the bog was incredibly difficult for the two – between the uneven footing of the bog’s “trails” and the roaming Baael, they found it hard to progress in any meaningful way. Every now and then, there would be a scare as a Baael would suddenly appear rounding a tree, though for whatever reason, they were not as hostile as the one nicknamed “Thlibosys”.
Night had fallen quickly after their break. Rinkyu grew unsure of their ability to get out of the bog before lasting damage happened to them as the moon reached its zenith. They had been travelling carefully for half a day, and while they hadn’t caught the attention of any Baael, it was aggressively clear that both her and Caul were reaching their limit.
They faltered to the cry of rest once more as they reached another clearing – this one was wetter and mucky, so the rest was uncomfortable, soaking through their rags and irritating their skin.
Caul was quiet throughout their hike and upon their break, not even complaining or griping about the pain in his feet or the aches in his muscles. Though they were barefoot, the ground had little to no loose rocks and was generally soft mud or patchy grass. Rinkyu searched a little farther than her predicted safe zone for food and came up with some greyish carrots and a few fat harpwing grubs.
She returned after about thirty minutes of scavenging. Caul had lied out on the ground despite the muck, with his eyes slightly open and his chest raising and falling slowly with his breaths. When she got close to him, she could hear strained wheezing coming from him every time he inhaled. The poison of the bog was affecting his body more than it should for a Retura – Rinkyu was only a half-breed, and even she wasn’t really feeling its effects yet.
“Caul,” she urged, “Can you still breathe all right?” She pulled him up to a sitting position by the shoulder, meeting his weak gaze with a concerned one.
“It’s hard,” he slowly said, “but I can still breathe.”
“Do you think you can eat?” She grabbed one of the root vegetables and a meaty grub that wriggled powerfully against her grip.
Caul nodded weakly and held out his hand. “Thank you, Rinny.”
Rinkyu placed both foodstuffs in his hand. “Rinny?”
“It’s a nickname, like Caul. My full name is Caulasus,” he said as he chewed weakly. “Caulasus Wazaka.” He bit into the grub, which made a wet squishing noise as some of its juices leaked out. “I was told not to tell anyone my full name, but you seem safe.”
Rinkyu reached for a root vegetable. “We’ve only known each other for a day, though. How can you be sure I’m a safe person?”
Caul looked at Rinkyu as if she’d asked the stupidest question in the world. “Because you defended me,” he responded. “You talked to me when I had no one else, you protected me from the guard guy, and you’ve been helping me get out of this bog.”
He took a moment to cough a few times before continuing: “You’ve been nice to me, even though we’ve only known each other for a day. If you were a bad person, you would have left me to die when they came to grab me.”
Rinkyu took a moment to think. She didn’t realize how profound an effect she had on her and Caul’s propinquity over the last two days – he was weak, but had a goal, while Rinkyu was strong, but without a path to follow. Spending this time with him, both on the caravan and as runaways, was emotionally taxing, but also psychologically awakening. She hadn’t felt care for anyone since she became a slave – the memories of her family had been fleeting away over time, and everything had gradually taken a grey tone. Her time on the slave caravan was heartbreaking, mind-numbing, and soul-crushing. It had been, until a day and a half ago.
She crushed a grub between her teeth as she looked at Caul. He ate slowly and without much energy – his fur was matted and covered with mud, and his feet-paws were deep red (rather than the dark pinkish color that normal Retura paw pads took when healthy. He was still wheezing softly, but it wasn’t as bad as it was earlier.
~13th day of Avis, Year 1400~
Rinkyu woke to the light of the sun trickling through the smog cover, which was less dense than the previous day. She didn’t know when she had fell asleep, and Caul was next to her, again curled into a ball. They had slept through the night, unfortunately, which meant they were that much closer to incurable poisoning. She breathed in slowly and deeply, and exhaled slowly – there was an obvious struggle to get air, but it wasn’t crippling yet. Caul seemed to be wheezing less than when they ate, so maybe the root vegetable or the grubs produced some natural antitoxin, which would explain why they weren’t yet dead.
“Caul,” she urged quietly. “We need to get going.” The soaking in her clothes had blistered her back and sides, though this much she could ignore. She touched Caul’s shoulder, which caused him to wince in pain. Rinkyu pulled aside part of his shirt and parted some of his fur on his neck – the skin underneath was more blistered than her own, and some small pustules had broken open, revealing pus and blood. Caul didn’t resist her gently touching one of the areas of broken skin, but still trembled as her hand made contact.
Rinkyu realized now how bad his situation was – the soggy floor of the bog and the smog surrounding them had put him in so much pain that he could barely move or speak, and because he hadn’t said anything during their rest, an infection had escalated rapidly. He needed medical attention now, or he wasn’t going to survive.
She pulled Caul up onto her back, despite his painful shudders. Though she considered herself strong, Caul was barely smaller than her but almost half a size heavier. But she needed to endure it as long as she could.
Caul will not die as long as I live.
It was starting to become a mantra for her, for better or for worse. Saruja was still a ways off, but maybe there was some service on the outskirts of the bog, like a bar or an emergency service office or something. Anything with friendly people and medical equipment. Anything that could help them.
Rinkyu focused wind Essence into her legs, causing them to push off the ground with more force and less stickiness to the mud – she had learned to do this kind of trick from one of the slaves she had met during her first year of slavery, with some added help from the books her parents had let her read before the misfortune. She was moving with less delay this way, though her legs felt like they would crack with every step. There was so much careful focus that was required to not break her legs than she believed, and it caused her physical and mental pain every second.
But she endured. She had to endure as long as she could. Screw the Essence drain. Screw the pain and poison. Screw the caravan, the slave owners, the bog, and Thlibosys. She would endure as long as it took to save Caul.
Something made her hesitate after about two kilometers, if only for a few moments. There were some new smells that were giving her mixed feelings.
The first scent she made out gave her some measure of hope; since the smog had grown thin, she could now smell farther out, and she could now smell clean wood – living trees and flora, plants and dust, the scent of a desert oasis nearby. She was nearing the edge of the bog, and it wasn’t far off.
The other smell was of meat, rust, and expiration… fresh blood and open bodies. Rinkyu smelled it coming from the same direction as they were headed. She slowed her pace slightly (though, it was still faster than their original pace).
She rounded a collection of dead trees, and saw what caused the second smell – a caravan cart that had been crushed in the center, contents and all. A familiar green-hatted individual was on the head of the cart – half of him, at least. Along with him was an uncrushed, unopened pack of cigarettes with a happy jumping whale design, lying on the ground next to him covered in his blood.
As she carefully scanned the wreckage, she saw the cause – at least two more of these large “Thlibosys” Baael that were going through the remainders, eating organic material and throwing away the cloth and metal parts of the people and cart. There were a few wolf/rat-type and wasp-type Baael on the edge of the scene, but they seemed content waiting for the Primes to finish.
Rinkyu resisted the powerful urge to cough, feeling a tight pain in her lungs as she did. Almost as quickly as she gripped her chest, a large face peered around the tree; a Baael in the form of a goateater spider, eyes focused on Rinkyu, gazed at them. It made a high-pitched screech, alerting the other demons to their location.
It was now or never – Rinkyu had to run as fast as she could. She focused the majority of her Essence into her legs and feet, and pushed off the ground with incredible force. She felt something cut the back of her calf, but she ignored it and focused on the edge of the clearing. Just a few more meters, and they would be out of the bog. A little longer, and they would be safe.
An unbearable force to her left side sent her crashing into one of the dead trees near the boundary. She reeled for a moment, feeling the blood rushing from her nose down her face and saw it absorbing into the ground. Her vision was blurry, and her head hurt, her back hurt, her legs…
She looked at her legs – they weren’t broken, but there was a pulsating pain in her left heel and up her left leg. She could move, but to move as fast as she was again, she would have to use all the Essence remaining in her body. She reached to pat Caul’s back. “We’re going to get out of here, Caul,” she whispered.
Her hand met nothing but air and her own back. She twisted her head to where she had been hit – Caul was laying in the clearing, coughing. Coughing, but not otherwise moving. The Baael were encroaching on him slowly.
Stay away from him. Rinkyu’s mind was racing. They were so close to escaping. So close to freedom.
The Baael made curdling squeals of delight as one’s maw opened.
“Stay away from him…” Rinkyu forced out. She had begun moving again out of instinct. She felt the pain in each clumsy stride but ignored it.
There was a bawling sound coming from the circle of Baael. It sounded like Caul. A voice caressed her ear, sounding like a warning, but coming off as a threat:
“Run, Rinkyu.”
Once again, Rinkyu felt an unbearable pain and tightness in her chest. She knew what she had promised, and she wasn’t going to let it end like this. She pushed as much Essence as she could all over her body – a punch, a kick, a bite, a scratch… nothing seemed like it would stop them all.
What about sound? It was the only thing that would affect them all, but she was unsure how well it would work. But she had to try.
She stepped into the circle to the sound of growls, moans, and howls. She sucked in as much air as she could and focused the last of her Essence into her throat.
“Leave him alone!”
The sound was intense and painful, physically and audibly. Rinkyu’s chest hurt immensely, but she held the scream as long as she could. The “smaller” Baael reeled away, their bodies dissipating quickly at the Essence attack. It was working. She held her scream as long as she could, until the only creatures left were the large lanky Baael, who seemed stunned at the sudden assault.
Rinkyu’s lungs felt like they were ripping apart, and she suddenly caught herself coughing violently, all of the remaining Essence in her body weak or non-existent. Her brain was banging against the inside of her skull, and her ears rang loudly, deafened by her own attack. She reached for Caul to pull him onto her back.
“Let’s move on…” she said as her hand made contact with his short ear.
Suddenly, there was only darkness.
***
Rinkyu woke up around an hour later, based on her judgement of the sun’s position. Something had hit her through another dead tree, and out into the oasis. Her right hand was in the pond’s water – it looked like some small fish had eaten away at the dead skin, and the water had soaked out some of her poison.
She lurched up to gather her surroundings. She was about ten meters from where Caul was now.
Where the remains once called Caul now lay.
Rinkyu heard a painful ringing in her ears as she struggled to process what had happened to him – his chest had been crushed into the ground, and his head – she dry-heaved at the sight – was partially eaten, with his one shortened ear separate from what remained of the head. The sight was too much for Rinkyu, and her mind didn’t know how to process it correctly. She felt like an outsider looking in – her body was moving, trying to put the pieces of this grotesque puzzle together, but it didn’t feel like she was in control.
She pulled the ear close to her, and heard her mouth whisper, “I’m sorry.” Over and over again, for what felt like hours. “I’m sorry.” The sadness gave way to a rising anger, and she began ramming her head repeatedly into the ground – slowly at first, then gaining speed until she stopped randomly.
“Why… Gods, why?” She bitterly questioned the higher beings that she believed were currently mocking her. “Why only him? Why not me, Grudia?!” She sat in a pitiable mix of emotions before screaming at the top of her lungs. Maybe if she made noise, the demons would realize she was still here. Maybe they would finish her, and let her finally rest from this nightmare called “life”.
After some time screaming, her voice had become raspy and weak, and it began hurting to use her voice. She grasped one of the arms in a futile attempt to lift her friend up, as if she’d feel the resistance from him struggling to stand – there was, in fact, no resistance, save the weight of the arm itself. She dropped the arm after a while and took the ear with her to the oasis. There was something hot rolling down her face, but she couldn’t tell what it was; only that it was making her vision blurry. She felt herself carefully drinking some of the water from the pond, though she still felt like an outsider in her own body. Her head felt like it had a hard pressure directly in the center, and the hot somethings became a constant.
Rinkyu wiped her eyes with her sleeve. It was soaked through with water, blood, mucus, and muck. She was slowly coming back to herself, though she honestly didn’t want to.
She dragged herself to a safer place, his crooked ear in her left hand and held against her abdomen. She no longer understood where she was headed, or what reason there was to continue. She was alone, master-less, filthy, in pain, out of Essence, and confused. And… sad? Grief-stricken? Depressed? None of the words alone seemed to have the power to convey what she felt, but with her limited language skills, “sad” was the cleanest word that came to mind.
It didn’t matter.
Nothing seemed to matter anymore.
Maybe “alone” was the word with the most accuracy.
The sun had fallen, the moon had risen and fell, and once the sun reached its apex again, Rinkyu had reached a large gold wall with a black border. She stared incredulously at the high wall, not knowing when or how she’d made it here, and slowly looked left and right along it. She followed it on the right, though she didn’t know what she was looking for.
There was a small building about a kilometer from where she met the wall. It was a small dome-shaped house with some colorful plants and a large glass pane angled at the sun. There was someone in the yard wearing a white-ish coat (stained with various colors, but probably white at one point nevertheless). As Rinkyu approached, the man began walking toward the door inward.
“Please help…” Rinkyu’s scratchy voice called out. It was quiet and strained, as hard as she tried. The man didn’t seem to notice as he opened the door.
“Please,” she tried again, with no further luck. The man paused in the doorway, his left hand placed still on the inside wall.
As she tried once more to grab his attention, he turned to face the glass panes, and his eye caught the approaching slave. He was an older, short man with a careful, but kind look in his eyes – unlike the slavers and buyers she’d met across the years, it wasn’t fake or tricking. It was real kindness, like that of her parents, and as she got closer, she saw pity and worry as well.
“Please… please help my friend,” she bawled out weakly.
And then, once again, darkness.
===