Shadows of the Soul
By Melissa Good
Part 1
“Kill them.”
The man holding the scroll looked up, hastily averting his eyes as they fell on the cold, remote face of the woman sitting on the throne high above him. “Your majesty?” He murmured. “Did you say…”
“Kill them.” The woman repeated, in a flat tone. “What part of that didn’t you understand? We don’t have extra to feed useless mouths.”
“But… they can be trained, surely.”
The woman rolled her immaculately coiffed head to one side, meeting the eyes of a tall soldier standing ramrod straight nearby. “Kill him.” She motioned towards the man with her cleanly sculpted jaw.
“Mistress.” The soldier drew his sword and strode towards the scribe. He ignored the look of stunned horror, and swept his arm back, whipping it forward and burying the blade to the hilt into the man’s chest.
With a single gurgle, the scribe fell to the ground.
The scroll rolled from his hand, tinkling across the stone floor. The soldier wiped his blade on the man’s gown and turned, picking up the scroll and returning to the podium. He mounted the steps with smooth, muscular strides and knelt at the feet of the woman on the throne. “Mistress.” He offered her the scroll.
The woman pushed her embroidered sleeve back and extended a hand, closing long fingers around the wooden item. She unrolled it and studied the writing, then rerolled it and handed it back. “Take them outside the stables and kill them. Give the slavers back old Octos’ body and tell them if they bring me useless merchandise like that again they’ll all end up like he did.”
“Yes, mistress.” The soldier took the scroll and rose, stepping backwards and ducking his head until he reached the foot of the dias. Then he turned and pointed to two other soldiers standing at attention nearby, giving them low, crisp orders.
They braced, then followed him, lifting the merchant’s body between them and dragging him out. His body left a smear of blood along the stone.
It wasn’t the first.
The woman leaned back in her seat and rested her forearms along the carved, wooden arms of the throne.She gazed thoughtfully at the stains on the floor, then dismissed them with a flick of her fingers. “Stanislaus?”
“Mistress?” The castle’s seneschal approached, kneeling at her feet with sturdy grace completely unlike the soldier’s. He tipped his grizzled gray head back and gazed confidently at her, secure in his skills and value to his ruler.
“Any word from the north?”
“A runner, Mistress.” Stanislaus replied immediately. “But he has no news. Merely that the Bregos approaches, and all is well.”
Blue eyes so pale they were merely tinted ice narrowed. “When?”
“Tonight.”
Long fingers drummed lightly on the chair’s wood.
“By your pardon, Mistress, I’ve asked the garrison to be cleared, and Brego’s quarters prepared for him.”
A thin, not amused smile appeared on the woman’s well shaped lips. “Yes, I’m sure he wants a clean pillow to put his head on.” She replied. “Fine. Tell the staff we’ll dine in the public chamber tonight.” She got up, her surprising height towering over the kneeling seneschal. “Send the usual requests out. I’m sure everyone will want to hear what our… fortunate.. general has to report.”
“Mistress.” Stanislaus bowed his head in assent.
The icy eyes regarded him a moment, then the woman swept past his kneeling figure and continued down the steps. Already braced soldiers stiffened as she passed, chins jerking in the air.
She ignored them, but recognized the motion and approved of it. The soldier nearest the entrance leaned forward and pulled the big wooden door open. She strode through, emerging into the grand hallway with it’s towering, rounded ceiling and marble floors.
Her steps were soundless. The hem of her gown brushed lightly against the floor as she crossed the silent chamber and mounted the stairs curving up the far side. Halfway up, a thin, faroff scream echoed through the shuttered window. She paused and cocked her head to listen.
Another scream, abruptly cut off. The woman listened to the silence for a few heartbeats, then turned and eased through a small, almost hidden door and disappeared.
**
It was a stark, lonely yard full of exhausted and frightened figures. Most were just barely old enough not to be called children, but all had the look of hopeless despair as they stared around at the armored soldiers around them.
The stable doors opened and two soldiers came out dragging a blood spattered body. They dumped it on the ground and walked to the trough nearby, plunging their hands in and washing them.
Another soldier emerged and closed the door. He walked briskly over to where the slaves were huddled and reviewed them. Then he turned. “Bring me a crossbow.” He ordered. “Her majesty wishes them killed and the merchant who brought them posted as an example of what not to do in the future.”
The slaves gasped and clutched at each other. Two near the front held each other tightly, a tall, brown haired girl and a shorter blonde.
The guard captain waited as a bow was brought to him. Then he scanned the faces, and noted the girls. A thin smile crossed his face, and he pointed at the brown haired one. “Bring that one. Here.”
“No!’ The blond girl grabbed at the brown haired one’s arm.
Two soldiers advanced on them, taking hold of the brown haired girl. A third shoved the blond girl back with the butt of his spear. “Get back.” The soldier yelled. “You’re turn’ll come soon enough!”
The soldiers dragged the girl forward and put her against a wooden pole, chipped and deeply scarred set in the center of the space. They held her in place, gazing at the captain with confidence as he took aim. The girl froze, her eyes going huge and wide as she stared at the captain.
“NO!” The blond girl screamed again. The third soldier slammed the butt of his spear against her, knocking her down. “No! No! Lilaaaa!!!!”
The crossbow fired. The girl slumped as the soldiers released her, sliding to the ground and crumpling over the arrow sticking out of her chest. The captain regarded her, then nodded and started to reload his bow. “Next.”
The soldiers went and grabbed a lanky boy, who struggled uselessly between them.
“No.” The blond girl whispered. “Oh no.”
“Hush.” A brown haired boy knelt next to her, watching the guards anxiously. “Shh… you can’t do anything now.”
“She was all that was left of my family.” The girl whispered. “Oh gods…”
“Well.” The boy gathered bravery from someplace. “You’ll be with her too, soon. And the rest of your family.” He told her. “We all will.”
The crossbow twanged.
“Next.”
**
Long fingered hands rested on the stone parapet overlooking the slaughteryard. The woman watched as another body dropped, joining a pile of drab, slight figures already dragged to one side by the soldiers.
Intelligent blue eyes scanned the remainder. The woman walked along the parapet until she was over where the captain stood. She rested her weight against the stone, evaluating the scene.
The soldiers grabbed a small, blond girl. Her face was tear streaked, but she walked between the men with her head high, breaking only when she passed the pile of bodies as her hand reached out to a thin, lifeless arm poking out at the very bottom.
The men put her against the pole already slick with blood and her head fell back against it, her eyes lifting up to look at the sky, plaintive and searching.
Nothing but useless kids. The dark haired woman sighed, shaking her head. What a waste.
The guard captain raised his crossbow. The watching woman flicked her eyes over the remaining slaves, then she lifted her hand. She paused a moment, then placed her fingers between her teeth and let off a sharp whistle.
The captain jumped as though he’d been shot himself. He lowered the bow and turned, seeing her. “Your majesty.” He headed quickly towards her, stopping before the wall and bowing his head. “Was it not done as you wished?”
“No.” Her low, musical voice echoed slightly. “Brego’s on his way. They need the help in the kitchens.”She indicated the remaining slaves. “Give them over, and clean the rest of this up.”
“Mistress.” The captain touched his temple in respect, and turned back. “All right. You heard her majesty.” His voice rose. “To the kitchen with this lot, and get that offal out of here.”
The woman rested her weight on her forearms again. The two soldiers released the blond girl, who let her arms drop to her sides as though they weighed twice what she did. The guard gave her a shove back towards the remaining slaves and she stumbled, catching her balance at the last moment. The guard shoved her again, pushing her past where the slaughterhouse men were dragging out the bodies.
The girl looked at the bodies, then her head turned and she looked right up at the parapet, at the tall woman, dressed in elegant silks standing there watching.
For a moment, their eyes met.
Then the soldier shoved the slave again, and she was herded away with the rest of them.
The dark haired woman watched a moment more, until they disappeared. Then she turned and headed back towards the door inset into the thick castle wall.
**
The kitchen was huge. The tall ceiling was darkened from years of smoke from the fires, and large wooden block tables stood everywhere surrounded by hard working slaves, mostly women. The slavemaster shoved four of the new slaves inside the room and grasped the arm of a passing woman.“Hilda.”
The woman stopped, and wiped her hands on her apron. “Aye sir?”
“New ones. Mistress handed em over, expecting Bregos and his men back tonight.”
“Ach.” The woman touched her forehead, glancing at the four newcomers. “B’gods, they’re children!”
The slavemaster shrugged. “They’ve got hands and eyes. Use em.” He turned and left.
The woman turned and looked at the travel stained, filthy figures huddled against the wall staring back at her. “Just what I didn’t need.” Her face hardened. “Look at you pieces of trash. Get inside that room over there, and wash before you contaminate the place.” She pushed them towards a door way, shoving them roughly along and through into a stark, cold chamber filled with stone sinks. “Alberot, give a hand here.”
A burly, cruel looking man joined her, wiping his hands on a blood stained apron. “New uns?”
Hilda nodded. “All right.” She looked at the newcomers in disgust. “Get me some rags to put on them. You lot get those clothes off, and wash down by the time I get back or you’ll feel the worse for it.” She turned and left, closing the door behind her with a hollow crash.
The four of them regarded each other warily. After a moment, the brown haired boy cleared his throat, and touched the side of a sink. “I guess we’d better do what they said.” He looked at the blond girl standing a little off to one side, her face a silent mask. “C’mon. You don’t want to start off bad with them.”
“Leave me alone.” The girl pulled her sleeve free from his grasp and went to the far wall, sliding down it and circling her knees with both hands. “Maybe if I’m bad enough they’ll just kill me.”
“Hey, that’s no way to talk.” The boy went over and crouched next to her. “Listen, there could be worse places to end up. At least they’ll probably feed us here, not like on the road.”
“I don’t care.” The girl whispered.
“C’mon.” The boy put a gentle hand on her arm. “They’ll be back soon.”
The girl edged away from him. “Go away.”
“We should stick together.” He insisted. “In a place like this, you need friends.” He looked around at the others. “They took me when I was six. I know.” He looked back at the girl. “You think they’ll just leave you alone? You think they’ll kill you? Oh no.” He shook her. “They’ll only make you wish you were dead for a long, long time.”
The girl looked at him. Her pale green eyes were bloodshot and exhausted.
“I know.” He repeated. “You think it can’t get worse? Trust me, it gets worse than this.” Slowly, he rolled up his dirty, brown sleeve and showed them the inside of his biceps. Burned deep into his flesh was mark, surrounded by twisted, scarred skin. “Those ones outside? That got arrows? They were lucky.”
The blond girl blinked, and a tear tracked down on either side of her face, carving a furrow in the dirt. She put her head down in her hands and swallowed, clenching her fists so tightly her bones showed through her skin with stark whiteness.
The brown haired boy looked around. “Dump water in that basin, quick. Before the old woman comes back. Hurry!”
After a frozen moment, the other two obeyed, taking up buckets and starting to fill the basin with water. The boy watched them, then turned back to the figure huddled against the wall. “Hey. What’s your name?” He touched her arm again. “My name’s Toris.”
The girl drew in a shaky breath and wiped her knuckles across her face. She looked wearily at him over her forearm. “Gabrielle.”
“Where are you from?”
The girl sighed. “Potadeia.”
“I know where that is.” Toris told her. “It’s not far from where I’m from.”
“Was.” Gabrielle whispered. “It doesn’t exist anymore. They burned it.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “They burned my parents in the barn. I heard them screaming.” She inhaled. “I don’t know why they had to kill them.”
Toris looked around. “Because they couldn’t use them. They only take ones they can use, that’s all the one who runs this place will pay for.” He told her. “That’s why they were killing us. She thought we were too young.” He extended his hand. “C’mon. Do what they say. Once you’re okay here, you can figure out what you’re going to do next.”
Gabrielle stared at him. She really wanted to just close her eyes and have it all end. Fall asleep and just never wake up. The world was evil and cold, and she had no real desire to continue existing in it, in this dark, damp castle full of people who despised and hated her.
She’d been so close. She could still feel the wood of the post against her neck, and smell the stench of blood all around her. If she closed her eyes, she could see the cool, confident face of the guard captain, and hear again that damned whistle that had denied her peace.
Her eyes opened. “The woman you were talking about, who runs this place.. was it that woman on the ledge? The one who stopped the man with the bow?”
Toris nodded. “She’s the ruler of this place, and all the land around it.”
There was a loud bang from outside, and approaching footsteps. “C’mon.” Toris whispered urgently. “You don’t want to get hit.” He pulled her arm, and this time, exhausted, she let him pull her up and over to the basin.
The other two were already stripped and washing, their faces sullen. Toris pulled his shirt off, exposing flesh half covered in old welts and scars along with the one on his arm. He dropped the shirt to the floor and plunged his body into the basin, straightening and rubbing his arms to clean the dirt off.
With a sigh, Gabrielle swallowed, then removed her ragged shift, feeling the cold damp of the room sting her skin. She cupped some water and started washing, ignoring the curious eyes of the others. She lowered her head into the water and scrubbed her hair, then stood up and winced as the cold liquid coursed down her back.
The door slammed open, and the old woman returned, obviously angry. She had a younger, bitter faced woman in tow, and she thrust an armful of fabric into her hands as she surveyed the four half dressed, half washed figures. “Not finished yet? I should have figured.” Without warning, she snatched a broomstick with an end of well used twigs and whipped it towards them, catching the closest girl across the side of her face with it. “Now move, you useless pig scum!”