Smoldered Flames: Part I of the Edonia Series
Chapter 43

Valeri

My body was the calming sea. Operating in consistent waves, never faltering, never stopping. But my mind? It was barren. A darkened sky and rocky terrain. My subconscious was constantly running. Reaching towards something out of my grasp. The screams of agony forever haunting me as my soul was wrenched from within.

I keep my head down and begin to resurface from within as voices shout around me. Two guards walk on opposite sides of me. They lead me to a gigantic hole in the Earth. My head pounds at the grating sound of metal on hard rock. A few more guards come to my front. Their thick steel-toed boots scuff the infertile land.

“This is the little spitfire, eh?” cackles a guard.

“Not much flame if you ask me.” another sneers.

A rough toned voice observes. “Scrawny lil’ thing, itin she?”

“Shev, this bitch will be part of your brood.” says the guard to my right.

“So be a good dog and keep a close eye on this one. The king sends his regards.” the one to my left concludes.

They joke. They prod. They place a spiked collar around my neck. Heaviness sits at the pit of my guts while they guide me into the yawning mouth of the Earth. I’m given a blunt object and told to dig. For what? I don’t know. I dare not ask for fear of repercussions. Other people in my position wore similar expressions. From wariness to fear, to out right anger, we chipped away at the dry lands in silence. The snap and crack of a whip whistles past my ear.

“Get to work, mutts! I want another layer cleared before the moon is high in the sky!” the rough toned person orders. I turn back to get the face of said voice and wasn’t disappointed. He is an average height male with a wide frame, stout that leaned towards roundness, and short limbs. The male catches my eye and cracks the whip again. “What the hell are you looking at, hybrid? Get to diggin’!”

I’d say he is someone with an ego to prove. A stinging pain streaks across my back again and again while I hear the sharp whoosh of the wind behind me. I don’t cry out, for fear of more unjust punishment. I stab at the gray ground with a quickness to avoid the whipmaster’s ire.

The skies were gray so it was a challenge to keep track of the time. Memories, tidbits of conversations, and echoes of what was, attempt to rear its ugly head into the depths of my barren mind. It is a struggle to say the least. But I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to feel. I just wanted to do. So digging I continued.

**********************

Sweat glaze along my body despite the cold winds. My limbs become weary, and my eye ever unseeing. A part of me is surprised that someone hasn’t removed my eyepatch. It’s a leisure I will carefully guard. The others are spaced out unevenly around me. Their eyes are dreary, like me. Their hopes and dreams are squashed away into the dust. While we chip away at the land, others rake away the loose soil from around our place. We aren’t given a reprieve from our work. No one hands out water to curb our thirst. Rations are barred from us.

I wonder… did King Broderick provide the same torments, such as I? Or was I blessed with his royal treatment? I shivered at the mere sensation of his little pets crawling around my body, in my body. Biting, hissing, spitting, poisoning.

The snap of the whip forces my thoughts to crumble around me. I ignored the burn that ran across my back from the whipmaster’s retribution early on today. But this is a harsh reminder to keep moving.

The stout whipmaster’s breath reeks as he shouts in my ear. “Keep working, you worthless cur!”

Chink

Chink

Chink

We chip away, never stopping, never stalling. The moon shows its glorious face to me in a frigid greeting. I can barely see my hands in front of me and I realize I’ve become weak again. Thirst seizes my throat. It takes everything in me to not reach for my throat and draw any unnecessary attention to myself.

“Alright, drop the hammers. You are done for today.” shouts someone from afar.

Everyone drops their hammers immediately. It was like a switch turned on, bringing us back to life. The others get up from the ground and line up in a single file like children. I follow suit and file to the back of the long line.

The line leads me to a great red barn. It wasn’t extravagant to say the least. Its gable roof had patches new and old, or out right holey. The lower and upper sliding doors are made of metal with a door barricade bracket and the windows are barred. I’d say that was the only thing fairly new about this building.

Soon as we walk in, dim lights beam down from the ceiling. There are stainless steel troughs lining towards the back of the barn. A table stands in the middle of the spacious shed. An enormous pot filled with simmering soup sits on the table, along with bowls and spoons. Wet, worn down bales of hay border the walls of the building. Some people dash to the hay, many others run to the pot to serve themselves. I go to the trough with the remaining group and look down.

Murky waters slosh around the trough. I look around and see others stripping themselves of clothing before sitting -or standing- in the large metal trench, and I inwardly cringe. Someone shoves me out of the way.

“There’s no sense in bein’ modesty here, darlin’. Ya better get used to it!” an old woman with pasty skin shouts as she sheds her clothes and practically jumps in the trough.

I watch, mouth agape.

“Well, don’t just stand there! Get in before the others do!”

I look around before peeling off my tattered dress and shabby underwear. The chilly air carries the scent of old manure, uring, straw, and barn animals that were here before us. My stomach revolts as the salty tang of blood coats my tongue.

I place the balls of my feet into the cold, opaque water and shiver again. Here goes the last of my humanity… or whatever it is that I was.

“That’s right, child. Get yourself clean and get a nice bowl of soup.” the old woman crooned. Her voice was oddly welcoming despite the situation at hand. It wasn’t quite soft, or gravelly, but in between. Like a great horned owl’s warning bark, but softer.

Once I fully submerge myself, I dunk my head under, wanting to wash away the emotions that surface again. But, alas, the clock ticks away and time is never on my side it seems. I resurface and scrub my body with my bare hands, since I don’t see any towels around. Bathing was quick and I wanted to get out of it fast.

I quickly don my clothes and head to the nearest pile of hay for the night.

“You ain’t gonna eat?!” the old woman shouts.

I shake my head with a simple no. She grumbles some nonsense about how the young ones never heed the advice of their elders and storms off to the giant pot in the center of the room.

I lay my tired body on the pile of hay and it was oddly comforting despite the mildew. Sleep overtook my mind, and with it the troubles of the world.

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