Ch2: Begining, Part Two

"Hope, in reality, is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man."

― Friedrich Nietzsche

The collar on his neck dug into his skin, a sharp bite that chafed his velvety black fur. He glanced at his sister. Bound next to him, her eyes hollowed out into deep pits, she gazed into the darkness of the hold. It had been weeks, perhaps months since they'd been imprisoned.

"We'll get out of this Mara, don't worry..."

His words rasped his parched throat and he coughed. The jolt rattled his head, and his right eye throbbed under its bandage, a dull ache that mocked his words.

"Not this time Brull," Mara's words slipped from her mouth like a sigh. "The crew might be weak, but these collars lock away our power." She closed her eyes and leaned against him, the tension in her muscles a vibration on his skin.

"The prince and princess are both captive as well!" Brull wrapped an arm around his sister, a smile forced onto his face. "The King will send someone to save them, and we can take our chance then."

"They'll just be ransomed," Mara shook her head, a repetitive motion that went on and on as she spoke. "No one will ransom us, who would even know to ask about us?"

"The Guild won't abandon us..."

"The Guild prioritizes civilians, as it should."

Mara's tone had the weight of finality, and Brull went silent. She was right, and he knew it. The World Guild expected its knights to sacrifice themselves for the greater good.

We'll be marked as missing in action, and then after a year, we'll be added to the Wall of the Dead.

The life of a knight was not worth more than any other commoner, something he'd valued. Now the idea was less appealing, it sat on the back of his tongue like a bitter tonic.

Brull would gladly die for the people, but the life of a slave repelled him. What if we're ordered to slaughter innocents in the name of the Ori? Forced labor didn't scare him, but the idea of living out his days killing for the enemy filled him with revulsion.

A scream echoed out from the darkened belly of the ship, a howl that rattled his bones. It came from the decks below them and attracted the attention of the few crewmembers within the slave hold.

"If you don't shut up then you join your friends... nailed to the outer hull!"

A greasy, sweat-stained man bellowed, his feet heavy as he thundered toward the narrow stairway. He held a long, metal-bound whip in one hand, the other wrapped around an oily torch.

Brull's hackles raised as the man passed, the ragged skin on his back, a reminder of their last encounter. If I could get out of this collar, you'd be the first one I kill. The slave handler had a short temper and delighted in his work. Each time he raised his whip, a pulse of depraved joy washed over the human's face. Few slaves escaped his touch for long. Many had already gone partially mad from the constant abuse.

More screams followed the man's descent, then silence. Yet another victim... Brull expected the man was savoring the pain of some helpless beastfolk, but he was wrong.

"YOU BITCH!" The slave tender roared, his voice thick and nasal, as if he'd instantly developed a cold. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

The sounds of a whip cracked out, over and over, until it was an almost constant drone. A beastfolk screamed once more, not in pain but with a deep-seated rage.

The hold returned to its uneasy quiet. For a moment, only the harsh breaths of his fellow slaves filled the air, and Brull strained his ears.

Silence reigned, until a pair of slavers moved to investigate, cautious as they peered into the lower deck. A coiled strike greeted the first to poke his head below. The slave tender's whip wrapped around his head and he was dragged into the darkness below.

To his credit, the man's crewmate didn't abandon him and lept in immediately. Curses and yells filled the air, and Brull's heart sent his blood in a surging rush. Mara had risen beside him, and they both stared into the gloom, ready to take whatever chance they could to change their fate.

The scuffle soon ended, and quiet held sway once more. Brull braced himself, ready to greet whatever brave slave had managed to overcome the odds and break free.

If they could release Mara and I, or even Otto, we could take over this ship.

Otto was old, but the dog-kin was the strongest slave on the ship. Alone and unarmed, the old fellow would be more than enough by himself, if they removed the magical restrictions of the collar.

He shared a glance with Mara, and the two of them tensed. If a wounded slaver came close enough, they would have a chance. All they needed was a key from their captor's belts.

A shaggy mane of unkempt red hair rose into sight. A slaver, his face swollen and bruised. He carried the body of the slave minder.

The sadistic man's face was twisted and maimed, his nose missing, both ears shorn from his head. Even in death, the shock branded on what remained of the man's face was obvious, as if he couldn't believe his fate.

The red-haired slaver dumped the body on the ground, turned, and reached back into the lower deck. He strained his muscles and heaved. His woe-begotten friend was drawn upward. This bald fellow had a hand clamped to the side of his head, a chain wrapped around his wrist.

"This one is better off dead," The chain in Baldy's hand jerked, and a tattered wolf-kin was drawn into view.

Covered in long scars and welts, most of her skin was half-flayed from her back and sides. Her mouth, covered in blood, still held pieces of her enemy. She fell limp to the floor, a prominent wound on the back of her head.

"She did us a favor and killed Doff," Red sneered, "But any slave that raises its hands need to be left for the birds."

Brull sank back down, and Mara joined him, the tension in his body replaced by a lethargy that matched the slaves around them. With two slavers, both armed with cutlasses', they had no chance. Brull couldn't understand how the wolf-kin had managed to kill the slave minder, but her efforts were in vain.

He met the fallen woman's eyes and found them to be almost black. A chill ran down his spine, and the moment stretched out, their eyes locked together as she lay broken on the deck.

Time resumed, and the men jerked her up, hefted between them so she had no chance to struggle. They marched off into the heavy gloom of the hold, their path tracked by the many slaves. Empty gazes that reflected only despair.

Brull sighed and closed his eye, shoulder pressed to Mara's side. We will get out of here. No matter what happened, he refused to admit defeat. He would wait and watch as he did his best to keep Mara's spirit afloat. He knew that he focused on her in part because it helped distract him, but he'd never seen her like this.

Her boundless enthusiasm and optimism were crushed under the weight of this place. She was shrunken in, withdrawn away. His fist clenched, claws driven into his palm.

"Don't worry Mara, we'll get out of this..."