North & South

by K T Munson

  The girl didn’t seem to understand for a moment before she dropped it by her feet and fell to her knees. She stared at the blood on her hands and laughed. It was filled with disbelief but also hope and bit of insanity.

  “He used to make me beg him to stop as he would drive himself into me over and over until I bled,” she whispered as tears ran rivers down the specks of blood. “He would rub my scabs away and use my blood as a way to keep me wet. I hated him so much.”

  Celia bent down in front of her and wrapped her fingers around the hilt as she said, “He is dead now and cannot hurt you anymore.”

  “No he can’t,” she said her eyes focusing on Celia’s face. “I used the sword on his face over and over again. He will never laugh at me again.”

  “You’re free,” Celia said standing. “I must go to the red room, stay here and watch them.”

  “I will go with you to the red room,” one of the other women said, a clean sword in her hand.

  Celia nodded and turned to hurry down the stairs. Fear hovered near the surface of her emotions but it was overcome by the need to find the room and free the girl. The place where her missing toe was located was etched in her memory. She nearly missed the door so completely focused was she on the room ahead.

  The other woman stopped in front of it, the sword clumsy in her hand. Celia turned the knob and walked into the door. On the stone table there was a girl lying completely still. With a gasp Celia realized it was the same girl from her first day the one with all the missing toes. Her left leg was mutilated and had been flayed open to study the muscles; her dead eyes were glossy and hollow. The old woman held a blade as she inspected the woman’s stomach.

  “Put the blade down,” Celia said holding up the sword towards the old woman.

  The old woman was clearly startled for a moment before she laughed, “You will not leave this room alive.”

  The woman pulled on a cord and the door swung closed behind her. The other girl gave a worried cry and rushed back to the door. When Celia turned back gripping the swords handle in both hands the old woman was gone.

  “It is stuck, I cannot get it open,” the other woman said.

  “Come over here, we stand a better chance together,” Celia hissed as her eyes darted around the room.

  Behind her the girl gave a cry and Celia turned back to her as she screamed, “She cut me!”

  Blood had erupted from the woman’s arm and she had dropped the sword. Celia took a step towards her when she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye and jerked to the left. The blade sliced across her ear when it should have caught her neck.

  Celia fell back for a moment before she hurried to get her feet under her. Celia brought the sword up as she held it between her and the shadows. She backed up until she was against the stone platform and the flayed girl. Celia glanced down at her face and tried to remember the dead girl’s name.

  “Come out and fight me!” Celia yelled as she let the sword sway from side to side, “Stop hiding in the shadows.”

  Celia watched as the other woman slowly retrieved the sword and hurried towards her. She was nearly there when a shadow moved. Celia cried out but the girl reacted too late as the dagger sliced across her back. The woman fell to the ground crying as the old woman stood above her.

  Celia charged, without thought or reason she ran towards the woman with a battle cry on her lips. The old woman looked up startled and quickly moved aside to dodge Celia’s wild swing. Celia stood over the injured girl protectively as she started to cry from the pain.

  “Stand up,” Celia commanded.

  The girl wearily stood and brought the blade shakily into position. Celia touched her and nodded her head and the moved together towards the cords. One would release the door and Celia needed to go back for help. She was not a warrior; she was a lost girl far from home.

  They were nearly there when Celia saw movements in the dark. It had taken a little bit for her eyes to adjust and now some movements in the dark could be seen. Celia brought the blade around and swung it around wildly to ward her off. They were around the platform heading towards the cords when the woman stepped back away from the swing of the blade.

  Chains rattled and the girl from Celia had come to save emerged. She threw herself onto the old woman’s back and locked her arms around her neck. The old woman tried to pull free but was clearly failing. She brought the blade back towards the girl’s head.

  Celia gasped but the girl blocked and twisted the blade from her hand. She dug her teeth into the elder’s scalp and blood appeared. The old woman gave a painful cry and thrashed around trying to dislodge her attacker. Celia finally regained her ability to act and moved. Celia let out a cry and rushed forward the blade poised to run into the woman.

  “Let her go!” Celia screamed and the girl finally noticed her.

  Celia’s blade ran into the woman’s flesh as the girl let go and the weight on the end of the chains threw her back against the wall. The woman stopped screaming and looked down at her stomach in shock.

  “Burn in the underworld,” Celia said and twisted the blade.

  Celia let go of the hilt as the old woman stumbled backwards with a howl and withered on the floor in agony. When she stopped moving the silence in the room was deafening. Celia was breathing hard and she walked carefully around the body as she retrieved the keys from the wall and hurried over to the girl.

  “What is going on?” The girl asked, her lips and chin smeared with blood.

  “Hadrian the Hero,” Celia whispered and she undid the girl’s shackles.

  “He is here to free us,” the girl said excitedly.

  “Not all of us,” the other woman said as the blade was limp in her hand as she stared down at the dead girl. “Donna didn’t deserve this end.”

  Donna, that was right, her name had been Donna. She could remember most of the words she had said but not her name. Celia felt bad for that as she helped the girl to her feet. The girl was young, only thirteen or fourteen. Celia hadn’t realized from the brief encounter in the hallway.

  “What is your name?” Celia asked her softly.

  “I am Narana,” she said as she stood.

  “Please call me Celia,” she responded. “We need to go and rejoin the others.”

  The other woman reached up and pulled on the same cord and the door clicked. Celia and put her arm around the injured woman. Narana hurried to open the door for them, when it opened they all breathed a sigh of relief.

  When they resurfaced the guards were dragging the bodies of the Masters through the halls and throwing them out into the street. Outside was chaos, there was screaming and people running through the streets. It was a storm of blood and vengeance; and it tasted so sweet. The women were dancing and laughing as they drank libations in the entertaining room. A few came out into the hall and spat on the bodies or threw wine on their corpses.

  Narana and Celia brought the injured girl over to the group within and Celia asked, “Can anyone help her?”

  “I can,” Narana said softly. “Let me see to her.”

  Celia nodded and helped the woman sit down. The woman stretched out on the couch as Narana began to look at the wound. Celia leaned back on her heel and took in a deep breath before turning towards the guards. Rauf stood in the hall staring at her and she met his gaze unabashed.

  He turned away from her dragging a man by the leg through the hall and down into the street. She followed him and stood in the large doors as others drug bodies out into the street, as well. Rauf came back and stood at the bottom of the stairs while regarding her. He was covered in blood from head to toe.

  Celia said to him, “When the last is in the street bar the door.”

  It was going to be a wild night.

  Chapter 32

  Queen Sani Siria

  There came a pounding at her door before the first morning light. The Queen of Sylon slowly pushed the sheet back and swung her legs around. Her face was set in a glower as she pulled on her
robe. Her hair was tied up in ribbons so in the morning they would curl. She straightened her back, twisted the lock and faced whoever the moron, who decided to pound at her door before the birds were even awake.

  “Yes?” Queen Sani Siria said as she tried not to lose her temper.

  “Urgent news from the west,” the man said bowing as he held up the letter.

  Sani Siria was about to say something about the definition of urgent when she saw the seal. Instantly she snatched it up, hastily broke the wax seal and began to read. Her lips moved as she read until she sucked in a surprised breath, at line three.

  When she was done she looked down at the bowing messenger and ordered him, “Wake the chief advisor. This is an urgent matter that must be addressed immediately.”

  With a last bow he turned and left. Sani Siria closed the door and called for her maid. From the side door two little girls hurried into the room. A moment later an older woman followed. They had her dressed shortly and untied the ribbons from her hair.

  They powdered her face and stuck long lashes against her eyes. The Queen was more than just a figure, she was a fashion. Sylon produced many of the fashions that were followed throughout the years. They had created the use of hats, makeup, and elevated shoes to promote height. They prided themselves on their culture, of music and dancing.

  Currently the style was buttons on coats and clothes. Her dress had a gathering of cloth at the throat with a jewel hanging down into her cleavage. It was long sleeved and tight fitting and the only patch of skin showing was her chest and the top of her breasts. It was a deep maroon with black designs. The jewel between her breasts was onyx. Buttons ran down the front of the bodice until it reached her hips. There it ruffled around with more onyx hanging. The secondary skirt was long and black, a rich material that complimented the jacket.

  She looked at herself in the mirror, admiring her curling hair, held back by a single onyx clip, and the luxurious dress. Sani Siria had always known she would live her life in luxury but never had thought herself a queen. Sani Siria had been raised as the third girl in the family of three girls and two boys. When the oldest had died while learning to ride a horse, her older sister had begun training immediately. In the end, her foolish sister had decided love mattered more than ruling a kingdom and suddenly Sani Siria had become queen. She had married a man thrice her age and buried him within a year.

  Havio Sirdi had been a kind man with very little in his mind besides his gold. Fortunately Sani Siria had experienced men before or the event would have been far more disgusting. With a nod to her maids she hurried out of the door and down the hall. She held her right hand up at her side as she walked as though she was floating.

  It did not take long for her to enter her private meeting room and find the chief advisor within. He was a tall man; his hair was brushed back from his head and tamed into place by water. Her eldest brother turned to her, his face showed he was none too pleased to be there. Shidar Sinat had about as much love for the morning as she did; which is to say he had none. She produced the document and threw it onto the desk in between them.

  “Ostapor has fallen,” Sani Siria informed him.

  “What?” Shidar Sinat said unfolding his arms to pick up the document.

  “Hadrian the Hero and his Sixty-Six Saviors have overturned Rentas and Lanus in one night,” Sani Siria explained as she crossed her arms. “They have given us no choice but to move against them.”

  After he finished reading, he set the letter back down and leaned his hip against the desk. “Eswan has always been a hovering threat. Why enrage them by going to Ostapor as well?”

  “If Hadrian and his Saviors cannot hold the city, Eswan will be along our entire western border and double their people. We tell them we will attack Rentas and ask only for part of the spoils of the harbor. We will help bring many over to our side.”

  “The Commander will not accept your terms lightly,” her brother warned.

  “He wants more slaves for his slave army, I am well aware. Yet if he wishes to keep the peace and not have people flee into Lorian and across our borders, where there aren’t enough left to manage the city, he will run into trouble,” Sani Siria said with a smile. “He will need part of the harbor to be ours, for it is well known many of the countries will not trade with Eswan.”

  “You are going to offer to trade with him the goods that other countries had denied him,” her brother said and straightened. “Assuring you half of the harbor.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” Sani Siria said narrowing her eyes at her brother, “It is unbecoming.”

  “It is brilliant,” Shidar Sinat said without any sarcasm.

  “Gather the army,” the Queen said with a smirk. “Leave enough to defend our gates, but we march for Ostapor.”

  “I will send word to The Commander,” Shidar Sinat informed her with a bow.

  “I will take care of that personally,” she retorted walking around the desk. “Although The Commander is a cruel beastly man, he views woman and men equally. Strange as it is, he may have slaves but his slaves are all equal. The only thing he respects is power and I have all the power here in Sylon.”

  “As the Queen wishes,” her brother said before sweeping from the room.

  Sani Siria picked up the PID and unrolled a parchment. She stared at the blankness of it for a moment before she began to write, listening as the tip scratched ink onto the parchment. The Commander would not overlook her and her small army so easily. He would need her; he just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter 33

  Celia

  In the morning the former slaves of the Satin Pillow opened the door and found that the bodies had been taken to the courtyard in the capital and set to burn. Everything smelled of burning flesh that morning and Celia had returned from her short stroll, as the last of the Masters had been rooted out. Ostapor had been liberated and Hadrian was in the capital creating a council of freemen. Former slaves were now running a city with a rebel at its helm.

  On the morning of the second day when the streets were safer Celia had decided to go to the capitol building. Most of the women did not want her to go, but Narana wanted to come with her. She nearly left with just the girl when Rauf appeared, sword at his hip, and nodded to her. She couldn’t help but smile as she wrapped herself in a shawl and stepped into the street.

  The streets were eerily empty and Celia was suddenly happy Rauf was with them. Celia had seen very little of Lanus and even less of Rentas. Yet all roads led to the capitol building that consisted of two buildings on each side of the river connected by two long bridges. The only other bridge was by the outer wall.

  Celia had been able to determine where to go by staying on the main roads. Most of the rich Masters had been captured or killed. The city was going to fall under siege and most of the guards had quickly changed sides. Celia had thought they would defend their Masters and city, but they had decided the city mattered more than its Masters.

  It did not take long for them to arrive at the capitol building; its two colorful domes could be seen from nearly everywhere in the city. From the shadows of the shops and the houses, eyes peered out at them. Overturned carts and the remnants of a celebration, that had been spoiled, lay about the street in disarray. Celia tried not to step in the blood, but it was not an easy task since it had turned as brown as the stones overnight.

  The capitol building was packed; the courtyard was just as filled with the buzz of voices. The strangeness of the silent city fell back behind them as they walked into the first courtyard. A fountain spat water and many stopped to drink from it. At its center a statue woman held scales tipping to one side as water poured out of her mouth. Her eyes were covered and water squirted from her breasts. Celia did not stop, she wanted to go within and hear the news.

  She gathered quickly that the city would indeed soon fall under siege. That Eswan and Sylon were marching towards their walls. The gates had been closed but slaves had run from their Masters and their nu
mbers swelled with Eswan marching south. Hadrian had opened the gates and posted his own men to watch the entry.

  Celia was a free woman again and she reveled in that reality. Freemen spoke around her, whispering of the coming trouble but there was lightness to it. Amongst the ashes of their masters they had risen and she with them. She glanced up at Rauf whose gaze was sweeping the room.

  “Looking for someone?” Celia asked him.

  “The men I used to serve with,” Rauf informed her.

  Instead one of the guards from the Satin Pillow approached them with a wave and a genuine smile. “I am glad you survived.”

  “Greeves,” Rauf said as he shook the man’s hand, “Where did you go that first night?”

  “I joined up with the Sixty-Six Saviors,” he said proudly, “Have you gone to the metal district yet?”

  “Why would I go there?” Rauf asked.

  “To remove the ring,” Greeves retorted clearly startled. “The men who were guards for the pleasure slaves, have been going all day. Hadrian paid two metal workers to remove them. You should go around there soon.”

  Instinctively Celia reached for him and touched a hand to his arm. When he looked back at her she was so excited. He searched her face for a moment, as though he expected to see something there. When he didn’t find it he turned back to Greeves.

  “What is Hadrian’s plan?” Rauf asked.

  “He has sent birds to Lorian and Sylon but it went too late. There is news that Sylon marches,” Greeves said and then pitched his voice low so Celia had to lean in to hear him. “There are whispers he is arranging transport for every man, woman, and child if they cannot hold the city. They say he is a prince among men.”

  “A real prince?” Narana asked with wide eyes.

  “He is a hero if nothing else,” Greeves confirmed, “and I will follow him to the end of my days. You should join us Rauf; we could use your strength.”

  “I will consider it.” Rauf said as they shook again and Greeves continued on his way.