Amazon: Signs of the Secret

by Ms. Becky J. Rhush

  But the tranquility, like a pleasant dream, seemed somehow too serene to be real. Enchanting, but quizzical. Am I in a trance? Perseathea gazed at the swirling shapes and colors, trying to reason if she had passed into the next world. The throb in her head was gone. The aches in her body absent. Only a light tingle stirred her scrapes, feeling less like pain and more a sensation of life. It seemed her sight, which still hadn’t cleared, and her muffled hearing, were the only two senses lagging. The rest were immersed in a warmth of liberation.

  No. Something else was wrong. If this were the higher lands, and she dead… then why couldn’t she breathe? Bolting up from under the glassy surface, Perseathea gasped. Capturing her breath, she didn’t know if she had been awake under the water for uncountable seconds, or a mere few. And she had no recollection beyond her last beating in that sweaty, fly swarming cell.

  She steadied into vigilance, her wits easing back to her. Once her eyes settled, her jaw dropped, stunned by where she stood. A scented bath dancing with water lilies and candle flicker stretched out before her, its end hidden by rising steam. The hot mist hung heavy, soaking the place with a balmy, sweet smelling heat. Through the haze, white washed walls sprawling with green ivy materialized. Vibrant blooms, amethyst colored roses, burst from every angle, seducing the chamber with fragrance. Sheer tapestries the color of a virgin’s blush cascaded from a canopy circling the bath, flirting on the breezes of twilight. Stacked throughout the chamber, and scattered across the marble floor, were hundreds of candles illuminating the chamber in a golden glow. Their hot drip made waxen fingers down every stone. Columns reached up to elaborate frescos. Portrayals of man’s most fleshly desires spread the length of the arched ceiling.

  Dropping her eyes back to the steamy bath, running her fingers through the water, she smoothed its oils between her thumb and finger. Lifting her hand, she breathed in the intoxicating scents, and her chest tightened. This place… wasn‘t right. The chamber likened to a den of flesh, one tailored to the specific pleasures of an emperor or king. It stood worlds away from her cell. Dropping her hand back to the warm bath, Perseathea listened, searching the steam. And a woman’s shape transpired in the mist.

  The young woman stood also in the bath, the water’s soft ripples licking at her hips. Lilac silks draped her, tumbling over her skin to boast her furtive curves. She appeared delicate, her skin soft and flawless. Midnight black hair garnished with lilac blossoms spilled down her shoulders reaching to sway atop the water with her purple silks.

  Perseathea approached, wading vigilant, her finger tips sifting the rose petals, lilies, and floating candles. As she neared, the young woman took a step back, her dark and mysterious eyes cautious. Understanding how intimidating a warrior woman must appear to a kept girl, Perseathea stopped where she stood, deciding instead on words.

  “I am Queen Perseathea of GarTaynia. An Amazon.” The bath remained silent, only the ripples splashing the sides of the marble. Perseathea steadied her gaze on the girl behind the mist. “What is it you are called?”

  She ventured another step toward the stranger. No words, but this time, the girl did not move away.

  “Do you understand my words?”

  The mysterious woman considered Perseathea for a long moment before answering.

  "Nahlla."

  "You do understand me."

  The girl let a curve take her plum lips, her brown eyes brightening. “I understand.”

  “Where am I?”

  Nahlla waded to Perseathea, closing the gap between them. “The hot spring. They brought you in moments ago.”

  “Who brought me in?”

  “Gragore’s men.”

  Perseathea’s heart sank at this. Even without any reasoning for how it could have happened, a small part of her had hung onto the hope that she had been rescued from the cursed fortress. But even imprisoned in the fortress as a child, she had no memory of these hot springs. Gragore had always forced her on an alter of his wicked gods, making her a disgusting display or sacrifice.

  “They tossed you in lifeless, leaving you.” Nahlla interrupted Perseathea’s thoughts. “We were afraid you would drown.”

  “We?”

  Nahlla gestured over her shoulder. Staring through the steam to the marble, Perseathea discovered more girls outlining in the drizzle. She looked back to Nahlla.

  “Where is Gragore now?”

  “I don’t know. All that I know is that we are to tend to your every need.”

  Perseathea looked at her bruised and discolored palms floating under the water. Why had Gragore allowed this? Why would he keep her in splendor? His way was the way of imposed submission. He treasured it as if it were a golden image. Worshipped it. Submission through beatings and rage came as natural to Gragore as eating and sleeping. And he enjoyed it as much, if not more.

  "Do you desire anything?" The girl glided a slow finger up Perseathea’s arm.

  Perseathea flitted her gaze up. "What?"

  Nahlla’s tone turned velvet. "Would anything… satisfy you?"

  Arching an eyebrow, Perseathea waded a pace closer, now standing intimately close to the girl. Close enough to smell the scent of perfumed oil on her skin. The lilac in her hair. Leaning into Nahlla, Perseathea whispered.

  “What is it that you would offer?”

  Nahlla twirled a lock of her dark hair around a playful finger, whispering her hot breath in Perseathea‘s ear. “Whatever you ask of me.”

  “Information?” Perseathea said the word flatly.

  The woman’s body pulled rigid with the sound of breath sucking into her chest. She pulled away from Perseathea, her sexual demeanor crushing beneath fearful eyes.

  “I… no. I can‘t-”

  “Nahlla, I know you can help me.”

  The woman took another step back, as if the growing distance between her and Perseathea would somehow distance her from the question. “No. Gragore will have me split by the horses.”

  Perseathea took hold of the woman’s hand, “not if he doesn’t know.”

  Nahlla pulled her hand free, covering her breasts, embracing herself with folded arms. She looked down at the water, tight lipped.

  “What is it you have to protect here?” Perseathea put a gentle palm on Nahlla’s shoulder. “I know what you are to him, and what he would have you be to me. You don’t have to live like this.”

  The girl stood with an acquiescent expression. “I have no other choice.”

  “I was here, long ago.”

  Nahlla looked up in surprise at those words.

  “I know what it is to live like this. To give what you give.” Perseathea tugged at Nahlla’s elbow, leaning into the girl’s ear. “I can get you out.”

  Nahlla stood for a long moment, hope and fear wrestling in her eyes. “What… what is it you want to know?”

  Chapter 27

  Saratiese…? Wake up! I must wake up…. I repeated the words in my mind, but a black heaviness weighed on me, churning my fragmented thoughts slower than thick mud. Behind the dark of my eyes I could still smell the death and molding peaches, still taste the gritty blood on my tongue. Most confusing though, is that I felt myself moving, my toes dragging in dirt. I could be dragging to my death, my very life depending on my fight, but I hung so far under lucid. So far away from awake. No matter how I tried, I could not rouse myself. Unable to refuse my lethargic state a moment longer, I fell back under. Sleeping….

  Sounds crawled into my ears, but I couldn’t understand them. They sounded far away. I felt far away and a thunder of pain clouded my head. I strained my face in the brutal ache, squinting an eye open. Blurry at first, the images began to clear.

  A cavern? A spectacular sight surrounded me, stretching as vast as the world above ground. And there were people, hundreds of them, lining the walls. I forced my heavy head up, straining sore eyes. Two Cloaks held my arms. That’s when I realized my toes still dragging the dirt… I couldn’t have been out long.

  They were taking me int
o the mass of people. Afraid of what they were planning, I thrashed into a struggle, remembering my fight. Forcing it out. But the Cloaks clamped down on me, hard, reminding me of their strong fingers. Weak and clouded, I gave in quick. I wasn’t getting away, not like this. I hurt too much and my head hazed. And where would I go? I had no idea where I was or how to escape. I slumped in their hands, giving back into the drag, and began searching the strangers lining the walls.

  "Askca!" Came a shout.

  My eyes picked out Hippolyta. The warrior stood shackled between two strange men.

  "Hippolyta!" I called back, relieved the woman was alive. “Have you seen Saratiese?”

  Hippolyta shook her head as if the question saddened her. I tried to keep my eyes on her, fearing I’d lose my friend in the multitude. The Cloaks drug me past, rapidly bringing my concerns to life. Hippolyta faded back into the patchwork of prisoners. My breathing slowed. At least I’m not the only one.

  The people blurred into a montage of unfamiliar faces. Haggard and weak, they stared back with hollow eyes, looking at me as if I were already dead. Glimpsing ahead, I spotted Commander Laidea, shackled at a bend in the cavern. The woman stared back on me, her eyes wide and relieved. I mirrored my relief, but did not call out to her. Something in the Commander’s expression told me to keep quite. I noticed an empty space beside her, and began praying under my breath.

  And at the goddess’ silent prompting, the Cloaks slowed their pace, shoving me into the vacant spot. A heavy hand pushed me into the wall, mashing my tender wound, stabbing a fire that sucked the air from of me. I clenched my fists, paling under the pain. The other Cloak grabbed my wrist, ripping it up into a waiting shackle. As it clinked shut, the first Cloak’s hand lightened against my burning chest. My other arm ripped up. When it clinked shut, the two Cloaks loomed there, their stench urging a gag in my throat. For the first time in that faint cavern torchlight, I got a look at my captors.

  Freakishly tall, their skin dinged pallid, ashen like the palest of moons. It struck me that they had probably never seen the light of day and that is why they were hunting at night. If only the company had come upon the meadow in the daylight. Their faces were ghoulish and thin, like skin stretched over bones prying up from beneath. They looked as if death held them already; sucking the color from their skin, stealing the meat from their bones and fuming their decay up like a dark cloud. Puzzling that they’re so strong, their grip like an iron vice.

  Their eyes were a deep white, like the round of color had been plucked from their centers. The only hint of color, a faint pink orb floating in the middle of the white, never settled on one thing. It seemed like the Cloaks were always peering off at something in the distance, something that wasn’t there.

  An elongated hand, twice the size of my own, sprawled out before my face. It stretched so thin that it looked like mere finger bones with sallow nails. The grayish finger cooled against my bottom lip as if no lifeblood ran it. The Cloak still would not look directly on me. I sucked in short breaths, my chest heaving as the Cloak edged into me. When his paled face was but a breath from mine, he stopped, holding there, smelling me.

  My breath hid in my chest. I huddled back into the wall as far as it would take me. Withdrawing, he grunted strange words to the other Cloak. As they spoke, my eyes traveled down the flow of their haunting black shrouds, never finding feet. Are these men at all?

  The Cloaks went quite, peering in my direction with their hovering white eyes. The one, who had just touched me, grabbed my jaw. Pinching around my chin, he forced my mouth open, drifting a bony finger over my tongue. I trembled, feeling his fingernail graze over each of my teeth. Counting? Again, even this close, his eyes would not settle on my face. He took in a long breath, smelling me again, and then let my jaw loose. Swallowing, I tasted a vile flavor matching the smell of spoil on my skin. Apparently satisfied, the two Cloaks left me. Breathing again, I turned in my chains, frantic and whispering.

  “What are we going to do? How are we going to get out of here?"

  "Breathe, Askca." Laidea replied in her usual calm tone.

  I slowed my breath, and my words, trying not to panic. “Commander, tell me you know what to do.”

  Laidea watched the Cloaks drift back down the row of people, heading toward the mouth of the cavern. "I don't have any answers yet."

  I stared after them as well, still haunted by their odd movement and abnormal height. My eyes traveled away from them, circling the underground. The cavern loomed a mammoth place, as intimidating as it was beautiful.

  "Where are we? Are we dead? Is this the underworld?"

  Laidea replied with a raised eyebrow. I shrunk back, trying to breathe. To gather my wits. My courage. If we were dead, I would wade through extreme grief. Never would I have expected to end up in the underworld. Not that I deemed myself a hero worthy of the golden fields of the higher lands. But as an Amazon, I’d always been taught that upon death the goddess would embrace us into her order, a higher land created just for our kind.

  The Commander turned in her chains, probably able to sense the thoughts racing behind my eyes, and her expression softened.

  "I worried for you, Askca."

  “I thought you were-" I stopped myself, keeping the rest of my words unspoken.

  "I know. So did I. But I expect most of us made it."

  I felt a twinge in my stomach. “Most?”

  “Most.”

  “Who have you seen?”

  Laidea paused. “Hippolyta, Tilliandre, Lathenia, and Valasca.”

  “What about Saratiese?”

  “Askca, don’t worry on it.”

  “But-”

  “They’ll bring her in.”

  I stood quite, fearing the Commander wasn’t telling me everything. Saratiese was taken before me. She should be lining the walls somewhere. She was taken before me. It’s all I could think. I felt Laidea touch a finger to my hand, gesturing comfort.

  “Askca.”

  I looked to her, my heart hopeful.

  “They’ll bring her.”

  I nodded to convince myself. “I thought I was the only one left, Commander."

  "We all thought that.” Laidea put her focus back on the Cloaks crowding together at the mouth of the cavern. I looked over to them as well, my thoughts drifting back to the smell of the place.

  “What is that?” I cringed. “First it filled the meadow. Now it’s on our skin and it reeks heavy down here.”

  “I have an idea.” The Commander left it at that.

  I dropped my questions, realizing how much the woman must have burdening her mind. This slowed the quest, if not ended it, and the Queen’s time was slipping. I kept to my thoughts in silence for a while, exploring the cavern.

  Its beauty intrigued me like nothing I had ever seen before. Pale rainbows shimmered in the rocks spiraling down like fingers from the ceiling, reaching down toward lofty, pearl colored stones. Constant drips echoed the place like a light summer rain. Torches glowed on the walls, splashing light over the misty colors and curvaceous stones, dancing the shadows to life.

  But… an immense cauldron, offsetting and disturbing, loomed at the center of the place. This cauldron, the dying people, and the rancid stench merged together to bleed the splendor out of the underground. This secret place, tucked away from the sun and her days, a world of enigma hidden beneath the meadow, was a prison.

  "How are we going to get out of here?" I mumbled to myself.

  "I don’t know."

  "I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you up there." I swallowed, frustrated with myself. "If I had, you wouldn’t be here."

  "We would’ve come for the others, one way or another. So don't."

  "Laidea?"

  The woman shifted her eyes to me. “What?”

  "I am sorry."

  "I know."

  An abrupt rumble resonated the cavern, clattering as if a storm thundered through the underground. All the prisoners looked up. A heavy shadow clouded just beneath th
e jagged ceiling, swirling like an angry black hurricane.

  My jaw dropped. "What is that?"

  "I think it’s…” Laidea stared into the loud black thunder, “bats."

  "Bats?” My eyes stayed fixed on the swirling black mass.

  “Thousands of them.”

  “Gods, where are we?”

  Laidea never answered, and so we watched, mesmerized by the multitude of bats, so many that the walls vibrated at our backs.

  Chapter 28

  Emerging from the bath, a chill hit Perseathea’s body. She hugged herself, her wet sackcloth clinging to her curves, holding in the cold. A tremble took her lips, and the next thing she knew the girls were bundling her in furs. The concubines led her to a collection of plush pillows scattered on the warm marble floor. Perseathea sunk into the sumptuous bedding as the others crowded around.

  "Are you hungry?" Nahlla questioned.

  Perseathea's heart leapt. "Yes."

  Nahlla nodded, glancing to Malene. A moment later, the thin woman returned with a goblet in one hand and a platter of wild grapes sided with nut bread in the other. She handed it to Nahlla, and then resumed her place in the pillows.

  “Eat your fill.” Nahlla said. “This food is to be given of you only.”

  “Are you not hungry?” Perseathea questioned.

  “We’ve already been fed for the day.”

  Perseathea took the food with a grateful nod. “Fed for the day… it is truly Gragore to treat you no better than his dogs.”

  Malene scoffed. “He treats his dogs better.”

  Perseathea sunk a handful of grapes into her mouth, relishing the plump tartness, gobbling them down in a rush. While she munched on a morsel of nut bread, Nahlla introduced the girls.

  “The thin one who brought your food is Malene. The young one there on your other side is Kellen.”

  Perseathea took a stiff swallow, eyeing Kellen. “You can be no more than a summer older than my youngest child.”

  “I am eleven in winters.” The girl answered.