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???
“Single file!” a soldier screamed to the crowd of prisoners. “Anyone who steps out of line will be executed on sight.” Prisoners scrambled to form some semblance of a line, spastic limbs twitching and groans permeating the morning’s small sliver of silence. None of them were talking, and I cringed at the thought of how much I had just spoken to Miles. I had lost track of him as soon as we entered camp. What a pompous dick. I savedhislife.
A group of masked soldiers produced a number of pipes and cloth bags. Four other soldiers began to lay yesterday’s chain and shackles out as a pipe was lit, the first captive greedily gulping the smoke down. His head lolled back in sweet, fleeting ecstasy before his hands flexed, knuckles going white. His chest erupted in a scream. The rage set in, two soldiers subduing the slight man rather easily and shuffling his thrashing form to the chain where they shackled him, this time shackling his feet as well.
Indistinct shouting rose from behind me. Soldiers rushed to the noise, the sound of steel unsheathing over a cacophony of footsteps. No one in front of me turned, so I stayed facing forward, but I didn’t need to see it to know that what I heard was fists on flesh then the swing of a sword and a wet thud. “Anybody who steps out of line will be executed on sight,” a soldier yelled again. My stomach turned leaden.
One by one, the former residents of Eserene descended into screaming, flailing animals. The scene I had witnessed yesterday began to unfold in front of me once again as I inched closer and closer to the front of the line.
The man in front of me split the air with a shriek as he exhaled the violet smoke, the lion-masked soldier with the pipe stepping back as the man was subdued. I shuffled forward, but when I raised my head, a lion didn’t stare back at me.
Horns curled around a ram’s face.
Miles scooped a pipe into the bag while a small torch was held to the powder inside. It was killing me that I couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell if he was smirking or snarling or staring at me with pity or disgust or remorse. He held the torch to my lips.
I inhaled a heavy, intentional breath, staring at the vacant ram’s face above me, the slits for his vision too small for me to see his eyes.Please.I didn’t want to play this game anymore. I willed the leechthorn tofinallysoak into my blood so I could descend into a mindless madness. Closing my eyes, I pushed the smoke out of my lungs, erupting in a cough before dropping my head back as I had seen so many of the victims do before me.
Please. Please. Please.
My eyelids opened to a world no more or less vivid than the one I had closed them to. This was the way it was going to be.
I pushed myself into a rage, whipping my limbs around haphazardly, the only pain in my body now my aching heart.
???
We were dragged out of camp by the chain, moving further up the Pass. I threw my head around as the others did, letting real tears fall in time with theirs. My feet grew raw as we traversed stone and gravel. The initial rage had passed for the chained prisoners, and at midday we were unshackled on a stretch of trail that looked identical to the miles and miles we had already traversed. The soldiers apparently needed time to rest and eat.
I leaned up against a boulder as I felt the first true pang of hunger roil my gut. I had been hungry before, but this emptiness was now undeniable. How the fuck was I supposed to find my way out of this? I knewnothingabout the forest, just that there were some things you could eat and some things that would kill you. A great start.
Prisoners scuttled off here and there to relieve themselves along the edges of the trail, most opting simply to succumb to their mental states and soil themselves. Letting out a groan, I rose and headed toward a reasonably secluded tree stump a few yards into the thicket. I stared at what was around me. Towering trees with green leaves of varying shapes, dried twigs on the ground, bark, pebbles, ferns… Nothing looked any kind of appetizing, even as my hunger began to deepen.
A small sprig of thick green leaves jutted up from the base of a tree.Onera, if you’re real, please save me.I plucked a leaf from its stem and folded it into my mouth. It was bitter, my face contorting against the sour juices that leaked onto my tongue.Chew, chew, chew. Swallow.I fought a gag as I reminded myself Ineededto eat.
I choked down three leaves before turning back to the convoy. The path was blocked by Miles’ imposing figure.
He said nothing as he stared at me from behind his mask and turned back to camp.
???
The soldiers told us this would be our last night camping in the Onyx Pass, that tomorrow we’d move closer toward the border of Widoras and Cabillia. We camped at a fork in the road, the western trail marked with a wooden sign, “Blindbarrow” painted crudely. The northern trail, the one we were taking, had no sign. The prisoners grew quiet again, only an occasional cry breaking the noise of the forest around us. I found myself curled between two other prisoners. They did not respond when I tried to start a quiet conversation.
As tiny bits of ash floated through the dark night air from the fires that burned around me, my mind wandered. How had Miles healed me? Why was there no evidence aside from a small scar on my thigh? Even if he were a healer, which I doubted considering his gender and general abrasiveness, there was no way he would have been able to heal my shattered foot, arrow-torn leg, whip-carved back, and cracked ribs…overnight.
Did the Onyxian Mountains grow some kind of powerful herb? I had never heard of such a thing in Eserene. Was he touched by the Benevolent Saints? No.
Footsteps sounded through the forest, probably a catatonic prisoner or a drunk soldier looking to take a piss. Another set of footsteps, then another, then…
“Onytes!” a deep voice bellowed.
“Up!” a soldier screamed, the other soldiers springing to attention. “Get the fuck up, you lousy shits!” he screamed. The footsteps in the forest became louder, quicker. “Every man for themselves!”
The forest shuttered as a shadow descended. The shadow turned into lumbering figures, a line one hundred men wide careening toward camp. All at once, the Onytes screamed, beating clubs against wide wooden shields.
Some prisoners scrambled around me, their half-lucid grumbling sounding like a mix of panic and disbelief. Some simply sat on the ground, their eyes glazed and empty. I pulled my skirts up, felt for the diadem, and grabbed my dagger, the only chance I had.
The Onytes rushed the camp, seeming to ignore the prisoners and go straight for the soldiers. Chaos. Masked soldiers heaved their swords through the bellies of the wild men, entrails flying as they swung their clubs in an attempt to maim, screaming in their mountain-born language. The Cabillian soldiers were much more skilled, but they were severely outnumbered, and it didn’t take long for clubs to strike the unprotected backs of heads.
Arrows began to fly from both sides, several captives getting caught in the crossfire and dropping into screaming heaps.
