Ch. III | Bromidian

I had gone home that day with little to no intention of returning. The buildings blurred from my vision. The only things I was privy to were the changes of daylight and the hood of my cowl as I hurried along the streets. The smell of the bakers' work made me nauseous when before it would stir my insides to hunger. No one disturbed me as I hurriedly entered my rented room and latched the door shut.

Only then did I let myself feel. Only then did I let myself sob.

Body shuddering out of my control, I laid on my cot clutching a pillow to my chest imagining instead that it was my sweet, sweet daughter. The guards were horrible, taunting me and locking me in there with that creature. They left me in there with the giant. Anything could have happened. What if he got loose? What if the Orion grabbed me and…

I don't finish my thought. I just wanted to forget.

The experience itself was the most terrified I had been since I had given birth. Nothing compared to those thunderous shouts. Everything in my body ached from the tension and the physical exertion from moving the barrels. The rattle of the chains as they were pulled taut was seared into my mind. Most memorable were his eyes – those eyes – that penetrated through the dark like a lantern in the night.

Time past by and I watched the shadows through the singular window pass from one side of the room to the other. At some point, I slept and retrieved some bread just to have something to settle my insides. It came that time again to return to The Turret and deliver the next set of supplies to the Orion. Many thoughts tried to sway the decision before me – stay or go.

He was angry. He is obviously hostile while in captivity. You need to not put yourself in danger – for Terrilyn's sake. Think of your daughter.

Wouldn't you be angry if you were locked away for years? I mean, he was locked away rightfully so, but being cooped up in a cage is such a miserable way to live out your days.

He lunged at me! That's obvious aggression!

But…

Those eyes…

I understood the looks of a lot of people – I had experience in this much at least. Guilt. Anger. Frustration. Loneliness. Rage. Sympathy.

Taking the afternoon to myself let me reflect on those – his – eyes. Perhaps it was momentary madness and sheer terror, but a small part of me began gravitating to the insane notion that of all the emotions I saw expressed in a single, fragile moment from the Orion was that there was no malice directed toward me. If anything, I saw a spark of guilt, but something else too; some unidentifiable emotion I didn't understand. I knew one thing, and that it was not malice.

At the end of the day, I needed this job. I didn't like it. I didn't trust the guards. I didn't trust the Orion. I was most certainly going to tell Caster exactly what I thought about him for not warning me a head of time. I hated the sensation of being in that room, powerless to stop something that could end me without effort. It made me shake inside to the core, trembling in a way nothing had done in my life.

Regardless of how small and insignificant it made me feel, there was no denying that the coin was a fair enough exchange. My daughter needed this. Besides, I was accustomed to the feeling of insignificance after all of these years. What was a little more time? I readied myself, now more prepared, and hurried back to The Turret with what felt like iron in the soles of my feet and an empty, hollowness in my chest.

The guards had rotated shifts and were different and, praise be, they were silent as I told them who I was and that I was already familiar with what needed to be done. They simply escorted me through the chilly, moist air to the Lock where I pulled the levers to lower myself down to the storeroom and then to the prisoner's chambers.

I couldn't deny that I was much braver back in my room. Every second that passed in the Lock felt like an eternity and made my heart pound harder and faster. That panicking part of my mind realized that even though the guards were rude, at least they were nearby if something were to happen; then again, what could they do if something did happen?

I swallowed dryly as the Lock came to a halt. No going back. I unlatched the door and began the arduous process of wrestling the barrels to their place on the edge of the ledge, that same chilled air allowing me to see a pale white mist each time I took a breath. The flames were still lit and, unlike before, I looked and instantly spotted those violet eyes in the darkness lined with grime and age. I averted my gaze with a quick jerk of my head off to the side and continued my work. I knew he was watching. How could I not with those eyes and the subtle shifting of the chain from around his neck with the slightest twitch.

As I rolled one of the barrels, watching my arms shake with the air of the deep earth and the mere presence of the Orion, I heard something resembling rolling thunder. It was nowhere as omnipresent as it had been before, but there was no doubt it was him speaking again.

"Ptiedier, noofalyen eemonsyar." The strange dialect ignited that same spark of fear I felt when I was there earlier that day. I managed to gag back the yelp that attempted to squeak out and merely quickened my pace with the remaining barrels before turning back to the door. All the while, I avoided his gaze. I couldn't be captured by that same unwavering gaze he held.

I was almost back to the door. It was half a dozen paces away. Just a few steps before I took the Lock up, collected my coin for the day, and returned to my room for the sleep I needed.

"Bromidian." The single word made my step faulter. It wasn't the word. It wasn't even the significant shift in the chains around the immense being's neck that caught my attention. The tone. The tone of his voice. It was sincere. The deep voice laced with age was heartfelt. Why?

That dangerous curiosity that my daughter possessed in excess certainly did not come from her father, and because it came from me this simple question made me stop for just a fraction of a second and look him in the eyes. Honestly, he looked surprised that I stopped even for a moment, but it was short lived as I hurried myself through the door and locked it behind me.

I closed my eyes just outside of the door and could only see those violet eyes cast in darkness and nestled among thoughtful crows' feet and lines of age. The lines were accentuated by the grime I didn't notice before. The cavern was filthy. Just by walking across the ground coated my shoes with an odd grit and moist earth that dried in the sun quickly. There were flecks of dirt and grit smeared and pushed into the hair on his face. Even in the cover of darkness and beneath the earth I could see the flecks of grey smattered in with his dark blonde hair on his face and by his ears.

That little voice in the back of my head, on schedule, began scolding me. What were you thinking? Stopping? Who knows what he meant by that! It could've been a threat! He may know some strange sorcery the way the stories go about the old Orion and could've enchanted you to do his bidding! He was probably doing just that! You're such a simple minded…

I stopped myself with a single thought which sent my mind into a pure abyss of nothingness. What if it wasn't a threat? What if he was trying to say something important?

~~~~~

I didn't think she was coming back, the young woman. She seemed so scared of the entire situation and neither the guards nor myself aided that experience. She was purposefully avoiding my gaze, not that I blamed her. It was natural to be frightened of the Orion, and the stories they must've told about me would be nightmarish for someone of her size.

There was quite a bit of time and lack of activity to contemplate what to say if she were to return, but there was only one phrase I could really say.

"Apologies. I did not mean to frighten you." It was a simple phrase, and as expected she did not cease in her activities. I knew she couldn't see, but I let a faint smile tug at the corner of my mouth. Was this to be my existence? Ignored to go mad in a cavern as I was tended to like some beast of display.

She had just about finished and, instinctually, I muttered a phrase I had said thousands of times. "Thank you."

I moved forward in hopes of retrieving my meal when I noticed how she had stopped just for a moment. My slow heartbeat which barely kept me warm in this forsaken darkness quickened. Why did she faulter? Did she understand me? No. How could she? She wouldn't have shrieked the way she did, filled with primal fear, upon our first meeting if she knew I was pleading for her torment to end. So why? Why did she faulter? I groaned to myself and rubbed my eyes with the base of my palm. Great. Something else to keep me up at night.

~~~~~^*^*^*^~~~~~

My patterns continued day after day. I arrived in the morning to those same two guards and endured their comments and torments as I performed my normal duties of retrieving the barrels and placing them along the edge of the cavern. Each day, every time I came and left, the Orion, Steele, uttered various phrases under his breath. It still made my heart race and every part of me tense and flinch away. Even the quietest muttering still reverberated against the walls, making him seem omnipresent like he was hovering just over my shoulder and speaking directly into my ear.

If I were smart, I would've paid no mind to any of these mumblings. I would've done my job and nothing more. I would've collected my coin and spent my days finding some other tasks to occupy my mind. It was just something about his voice. It became a distraction – his words.

I couldn't comprehend what he was saying. Our dialects were so different and even the accents were varied vastly.

I wasn't smart.

I didn't possess the intelligence of scholars like the counsel members.

I had a daughter and had taught her much of what I know about speaking and a portion of my knowledge included some basic letters to read and write. When she was very young, my darling Terrilyn would babble on and on about absolutely anything. Even though I couldn't understand what she was saying, I eventually began picking up on what she wanted or needed, whether it was to go on a walk to pick wildflowers or to taste what I was making.

I learned to understand her.

And, what I found interesting, was I was learning to understand him; at least, I thought so anyway.

There were moments he would say something I thought I had heard before. Always, however, he used the same phrase as I left the cavern.

"Bromidian."

It was so sincere and only after I finished and was leaving that the Orion would say this single word.

It was after a time had passed where I had begun preparing my meal for the afternoon when it hit me.

Bromidian. Was that… thank you?

Had he been thanking me all this time?