I collapsed next to my oldest friend and let out a sob, glad to be near him again. The lash on his leg from Prig's whip had scabbed over, and I hoped it wouldn't get infected. There was little any of us could do about a fever and the foremen often worked us hard even when we could barely stand. Honestly, it's a fucking miracle any of us survived that place.
"Let me see," Josef said in a quiet voice and I held out my hands, staring into space as he turned them over with a gentle touch. Josef sighed and pulled up my ragged sleeves, seeing the full extent of the yellow-brown bruising already spreading up my arms. "What did you do this time, Eska?"
I lowered my head onto Josef's shoulder and sobbed. I felt like crying, but I was far too exhausted to shed any tears. Dry sobbing is a lot like falling in love, pointless save for the pain.
One of the other scabs on my team, a giant by the name of Hardt was watching us. "She defied him," he said.
I've rarely seen a bigger man than Hardt. He was taller than most, with a bulk that defied the meagre rations we were fed. A true workhorse, he did more of our team's digging in a day than I managed in a week. Both Hardt and his brother, Isen, were Terrelans, though I didn't hold it against them. They both had dark skin and darker hair, which they kept short. I had no idea why they were down in the Pit. I didn't care. I didn't give a shit about anyone but Josef. Besides, we were all criminals no matter how innocent we were.
"Never seen anything like it," Isen said. He was shorter than his brother, though not by much, and not nearly as brawny. He was handsome in a rugged way, even wearing layers of sweat and grime. No one was truly pretty down in the Pit, but Isen made it work. "You just stared at Prig like you were watching his death, and all while he was swinging a fucking hammer at you."
"I thought he'd kill you for sure," Hardt agreed.
So did I, at the time. I think a part of me wanted it. They were not the first nor last suicidal thoughts I have entertained in my life. More than once I have considered how much simpler it would be to not be.
The others in my team moved away from the conversation. As though merely talking about Prig might cause him to appear, and they would be spared his wrath simply by not taking part. Bloody fools, all of them. Prig had more than enough wrath to spare even for those who hadn't earned it. Hardt moved forward though, two rolls of cloth in his giant hands. He held them out to Josef and we could both see they were bandages, and mostly clean.
I think I would have refused them, pushed Hardt away and suffered in the sullen silence I was known for. I didn't trust him or his brother. I didn't trust anyone. Not even Josef really. Not since his betrayal on the tower. He was my oldest friend, my only friend, but I couldn't forget it was he who had blindsided me. Luckily for us all, Josef was not me and trust came easier to him. He took the bandages with a smile and a nod and started wrapping my hands and forearms. I sat there, staring at nothing and letting my hate, exhaustion, and pain make me numb inside. There is pleasure in being numb, in retreating from the world and feeling nothing. It is matched only by the agony of emotion returning.
Isen moved closer, picked out a spot on the floor that looked slightly less rocky than the rest, and sat. A small lantern burned away in the corner of the cavern, and in that flickering light I could see his face was bruised and scabbed. The leftovers from a black eye. He was always nursing an injury or two. I thought it made him rugged, mysterious, maybe even a little dangerous.
"So, who are you?" Isen asked.
I realised then that I had never offered my name. In three months down in the belly of the Pit, not once had I so much as uttered my name, and until then no one had asked for it. These days, I couldn't buy that sort of anonymity. My name is known far beyond the limits of this continent. It's known far beyond the reach of the Terran language. These days even gods know my name, and that's not the sort of attention you want. Trust me. But back then, I was no one, and no one knew who I was.
"Josef Yenhelm." Josef extended his hand. Isen took it and they shook and Hardt followed quickly after.
"Isen," said the younger and smaller of the two. "This is my brother, Hardt."
All eyes turned to me as Josef finished wrapping the bandage around my left hand and started on my right. I felt scraped raw and no longer cared who knew my name. I let out a sigh and leaned against Josef's bony shoulder.
"Eskara Helsene," Josef said for me. "Don't let her terseness fool you. She can be quite sweet once you get past the bite."
That bastard! I should have bristled at his words. I certainly do when I think about it now, but I was so tired that it was taking more effort than I could manage just to stay awake. My memory of that conversation is softened by blurred edges and missed words, faded away like a fleeting dream leaving only vague impressions as proof it had ever been.
"What were you?" Isen asked. "Before all of this." He didn't ask what we were there for. It was rude to ask after someone else's crimes.
I grabbed hold of Josef's hands then, despite the pain it caused me. Whatever else they might be, Isen and Hardt were Terrelans. The enemy! Neither they, nor anyone else, needed to know that Josef and I were Sourcerers for the Orran Empire. Looking back now I realise how much easier life might have been if I had trusted the brothers. If I had told them who and what I was. Maybe if I had, we would all still be alive. But no, I was a secretive bitch for whom trust was an increasingly alien concept. And besides, second-guessing the past is no different to predicting the future; it is a fool's game with no winners. Time runs ever forward and not even Chronomancers can change that inextricable fact. Though I do know a few who have tried.
"Soldiers for Orran," Josef said with a shrug, patting my arms to release my clawed grip.
Isen nodded but Hardt frowned. Always the smarter of the two, was Hardt. He saw things that no one else did. Sometimes I wonder if he could see into the hearts of people, to know their intentions before they themselves did. It was a peculiarity of the man and one I came to rely upon time and time again.
"You're a little young to be soldiers," Hardt said, his stare lingering on me. He didn't need to point out that I was still a girl and a slight one at that. It was likely more than a little obvious that I had never before held a sword, let alone swung one in battle. Honestly, I looked about as likely to be a soldier as a goat looks likely to fly.
I almost heard Josef reply. No doubt he said something diplomatic. He was always that way, making others laugh and putting them at ease. When I opened my eyes, I saw Hardt sitting next to his brother, a crude set of dice on the ground between us. I couldn't say how long I had been asleep, certainly long enough to drool on Josef's shoulder and develop a taste in my mouth that suggested I had been chewing on blistered feet. I've never understood how just a few snatched minutes of sleep can produce such a foul taste.
"What..." I struggled away from Josef's shoulder and wiped at my mouth with bandaged arms.
"Here," Josef said, handing me a small clay cup. Water was one thing the Pit had more than enough of, though it was rarely clean. Some of the lower tunnels were flooded and I'd even heard of a giant cavern somewhere on the twenty-fourth level. The other inmates claimed it had massive stalactites that glittered in lantern light. They also claimed there were monsters living in the water that could suck the flesh from bone. I never once visited that cavern, though I sometimes wonder if the entire Pit is filled with those monsters these days, reducing all the people I left down there to bones and bad memories. It was far more likely the monster never even existed. We prisoners had little power, but convincing a person of a lie is a form of power over them. Lies, fear, food, and shoes, the greatest of all currencies down in the dark.