Chapter Text
Despair has a smell.
Not the smell of too many bodies trapped in too small a space, nor the smell of waste or sickness, nor even the smell of fear but something underneath all of that. Filling in the cracks and crevices was something wholly unique, smothering hope and defiance like choking a fire.
I thought I was inured the various odors of wretchedness but that had simply been my ignorance of the actual peculiarities of the Universe’s cruelty. The alleys and slums of Absalom may have been littered with those cast-aside by the city, those with too little coin and too little food, but it was better than a cage that I could touch the sides of without fully extending my arms. Yes, for all it’s faults, the City at the Center of the World breathed hope, false hope for far too many but hope nonetheless.
Hope was a rare commodity now, seen only in the freshest eyes as new captives joined their ranks. Now, only one person still contained a spark, a young woman perhaps fifteen or sixteen who’d been tossed into a nearby cage only three days ago. Perhaps the ship’s crew knew she’d have been trouble because she was the only one who shared a cell, an older woman with hair gone to gray. A relative or caretaker perhaps, her leg had been injured and would make her vulnerable slower to escape and it was easy to see how she could be a hostage to compel good behavior.
She’d tried to speak to me at first, her Taldan broken and heavily accented. But I merely huddled in my cage and stared at the floor, I could no longer bear the thought of trying to meet another’s expectations. Eventually, she’d given up.
The other dozen or so captives no longer needed incentives towards passivity. As the days passed with just enough food and drink to stave off death, the will to resist had been eroded from them. Not like me, I hadn’t had any to start. Wherever I ended up couldn’t be any worse than what I’d left behind, maybe the others still had lives they wanted to return to.
I could make out only a few of the other captives, the light from the lamps along the walls steady but dim, without the flickering of candle or torchlight. Against the opposite wall a stout dwarven man had met our captors with curses and threats for the first several days, now he took food silently. Perhaps sensing my appraisal he looked up but wouldn’t meet my eyes fear none of them would anymore.
Being a source of fear was a new experience for me, my physique was not one that lent itself towards intimidation. My perennially unkempt black hair and narrow face had occasionally led to me being compared to a half-finished rat doll, usually insultingly but rarely complementary. Barely five-and-a-half feet tall and with the stoutness of the chronically underfed, despite my nineteen years of age I gave off more waif than brawler. Though considering my once fine clothes were now covered in old blood and sweat, I suppose I shouldn’t fault anyone too harshly for nerves. They had been the only nice set of clothing I’d ever owned as well, somehow I found that almost as upsetting as everything else.
A sound broke the chain of my thoughts, something I’d almost forgotten, the older woman had begun to hum and the girl began to sing softly. Her voice was smooth and clear as as only the best buskers I’d heard before. I didn’t know the language but the tune was familiar, like an old nursery song that I’d sung to- I broke that thought with a violent shake of my head. The movement must have caught the girl’s attention because she turned to look at me, it was the first time I’d actually looked at her face. I was startled to see that even in the dim steady lights of the hold they shone a molten gold that no human, or other mortal ancestry, could match.
A nephilim maybe, one of those touched by the divine. I could see how she would be a prize for this ship, her value must’ve outweighed the rest of us combined. I was the first to look away this time, I couldn’t bear the weight of hope in her eyes like jagged shards pressing against my guts. Even so, it was nice to not have someone nervously look away. Even the ship’s crew had taken to looking at the floor while shoving my meager rations through the bars with a stick, after they’d filled the keyhole with lead.
I could feel myself drifting off, listening to the singing gave me something aside from my thoughts or worse, memories, to dwell on. Between the sea sickness when I’d first been brought on and then the fever, sleep had been difficult. After the fever a part me had felt the need to remain alert awake, but now I felt like I could rest wait.
I was jolted awake by the ship shuddering violently and shouting from above, someone barking orders too muffled to understand but the urgency rang clear. My fellow prisoners were also quick to note the activity, whispers quickly rose to shouts. The noise pressed on me like being buried under a dozen scrambling bodies, all I could do was huddle on the floor of my cage wrapping my arms tightly around my legs.
The door at the top of the stairs crashed open and bright daylight flooded in, dazzling after so long in the dim. A harsh voice shouted out, “Shut that noise unless you want your guts on the floor.” One of the crew came down, cutlass in hand, followed by two more. The speaker’s face was lined in old scars, one through his left eye all the way to his cheek, giving him a permanent sneer. He’d been a common sight during my time here, doling out threats and dire warnings throughout my time in the cage. The other two were younger, their steps less certain.
The prisoners quieted, though many still glared, eyes burning with hate. “What, you hoping this some tender hearted privateer? Ha! Ulfen raiders bearing down on us,” he turned to spit, “you’d best hope we can fight ‘em off or you’re in for a worse fate than auction. If you’re lucky they’ll just kill ya and wear your skins, if you’re unlucky…well there’s worse things than dead.”
He turned to the other two men, “Secure that door and douse the lights, we’re gonna make sure the cargo stays nice and safe or the captain’ll have us in those cages.” The two men took little time to slam the door shut and latch it closed, a thick wooden bolt securing it in place. As one passed by the bars of my cage, I could see a tremor passing through his hands weak his thick leather coat too hastily donned leaving a gap near the waist that tear open could be exploited. I could see no more before the lamps were covered, leaving us in pitch darkness.
The darkness was oppressive, but it allowed me to focus on the sounds filling the space. I could hear the crew in the hold with us shuffling further to the rear, two breathing steadily and another fast and desperate. The other prisoners were whispering, their words a meaningless murmur but their tone clear as a church bell, some had decided that even Ulfen raiders were preferable to the auction block.
It was impossible to tell how long we sat in the darkness, the hold filling with the stench of fear and anticipation. Suddenly, a shower of thuds from above nearly simultaneously followed by a short shriek, incomprehensible orders were barked and rapid footsteps thundered against the wood. The ship rocked violently, throwing me against the bars of the cage, and a titanic crashing sound erupted as the ship collided with something. Numerous thuds followed by even more running, now too steel-on-steel and cries of pain, battle must have fully begun on deck. Soon, the smell of blood began to filter down, overpowering all else.
I flinched when someone began pounding on the door above but the bolt held. Words from the other side followed, not in the Taldan of my native tongue though I knew a curse when I heard one. Splintering sounds preceded light filling a newly formed gap as some form of blade punched through the door, followed by another, and finally a third blow was enough to split the door into pieces.
Again daylight breached the space, this time truly blinding to eyes now acclimated to total dark. By the time I had blinked away the spots in my vision, the raider had reached the bottom of the stairs. All I could make out against the light was a bulky figure wielding a battleaxe in one had. The young girl with golden eyes shouted something, the harsh consonants reminiscent of the raiders earlier words but I couldn’t be sure. Whatever she’d said it was enough that when the three crewmen rushed from the shadows at the rear of the hold the raider met them with battleaxe at the ready.
The two younger men came in first, swinging their blades with a war cry that seemed more panicked than frightening. The one I’d picked out as the weakest was the first to reach the raider, a quick backstep brought them out of reach of his wild swing. They quickly answered with a strike of their own, the blade of their axe knocking his sword wide then stepping into him with a brutal shoulder to his chest that knocked him back.
The other leapt over his compatriot, using his momentum to force the raider back against the bars of my cage. No longer dazzled by the sunlight I could now make out that the raider was a woman, nearly six feet tall and powerfully built, clad in heavy furs that added significant bulk to her already imposing figure. She wore no helmet, leaving her sable black hair in a long braid. She looked maybe a decade older than me, late twenties perhaps. A quick glance at me before turning her attention back to swordsman, close enough I could make out the warm brown of her eyes. Close enough that I could do something, I could slip a hand through the bars to snag a belt or clutch a leg, I wrapped my arms around my legs tighter.
Before he could take advantage of her position she forced the sailor back with a swing of her axe, he brought his blade up in time to catch it but the strength behind the blow caught him off-guard causing him to lose his footing and stumbled. With a shout she brought her axe down on his shoulder, cleaving through the leather followed by skin, muscle, and bone. His sword clattered to the floor shortly followed by him, alive or dead he was out of the fight and I felt a vicious surge of joy rush through me as his blood spattered the floor. The fight was only seconds old and already the defender’s advantage had narrowed to two-to-one.
The elder scarred crewman approached slower, apparently happy to let the younger men engage first. As the other crewman regained his footing they began to circle the raider, trying to make her give one of them an opening. She swung towards the elder crewman, perhaps thinking him the more experienced and thus the greater threat or maybe his face simply offended her, she stepped towards him and swung her axe but he was able to get his blade into position to catch it. He was stronger than the previous crewman as he kept his grip on his weapon and deflected her blade.
Or maybe he was just that much more skilled than the other man I couldn’t tell, the only thing I’d learned about fighting was that fair fights were to be avoided at all costs. Far easier to scare someone off with the flash of a knife or hit them over the head with a stick when they weren’t looking. My preference has always been to leave that sort of thing to others though. It’s much easier let old Dirk handle the rough stuff when necessary, afterall he’s built like an ox…or rather he had been built like an ox.
My attention was forcefully brought out of my memories and back to the ongoing fight by a shouted warning from the dwarven man when the younger crewman tried to rush the raider’s exposed back. She tried to twist aside, but the warning wasn’t enough to avoid his slash completely. The sound of metal-on-metal rang out as he struck her torso, armor under her heavy furs. A dangerous proposition on a sailing vessel, she was either very confident she wouldn’t be sent into the ocean or dangerously reckless. Either way it saved her from anything more threatening than some time with needle and thread.
The scarred crewman repositioned again, trying to get at her off-guard, but this time it brought him close to the cage holding the golden-eyed girl with his back to her. She reached between the slats of her cage and gripped tight to the back of his leather jacket, catching him by surprise. A growl escaped him as he twisted out of her grasp, her arm bent unnaturally as it caught between the bars of her cage and his body. She pulled her arm back with a cry of pain, but the momentary distraction had been enough to spoil his attempt to flank the raider.
Taking the opening provided, the raider raised her free hand and spoke in a clear voice. The words sounded like gibberish, but they had jagged edges to them and raised the hair on my arms. Fiery runes circled her raised hand for a brief moment before she pointed to her axe with a snap of her fingers, the runes vanished and the blade burst into flames. The closer crewman had only enough time to let out a startled gasp as she swung that fiery axe, bashing through his weak attempt to guard and burying the head of the axe deep into his chest. With a vicious yank she pulled the axe from his body, a gout of blood painted the floor and he collapsed motionlessly to the floor as smoke curls rose from his charred flesh.
She turned to the final crewman who backed away from her while babbling, “C’mon now there’s no need for this. You want them, you can have ‘em, I’m not trifling with mages.” His back met the bars of another cage, he was out of room run, and he tossed his sword to the ground at her feet. The hold flooded with the shouts of the other prisoners: insults, threats, pleas; a cacophony ignored by the raider.
She turned to the golden-eyed girl, she was clutching her arm while tears spilled from her eyes, and spoke something in their language. The girl’s eyes widened before nodding vigorously and said something in return. The raider nodded before turning back to the remaining crewman, pausing to look down at the blade at her feet. He raised his hands, “No threat to you now, no point in killing an unarmed man right?” he said as sweat dripped down his forehead. The smell of fear filled the hold briefly before being overpowered by blood and burnt meat.
She raised one foot atop the blade before kicking it back towards him, his hands dropped as he looked down at the blade. She raised her free hand and curled her fingers at him, twice . He looked up at her, saw that she was between him and the doorway, and I could see his brows narrow as he made his choice. He grabbed the blade with a snarl and rushed at the raider.
She met him before he could close the distance, sparks of fire still flickering along the edge of her axe. Their weapons clashed, each trying to overpower the other, but in this they were evenly matched. He gave up the attempt with a backwards step using the gap to swing towards her leather clad leg, she shifted her leg only to realize it had been a feint. Reflected sunlight flashed off his blade as it rushed in towards her head, she was barely able to jerk her head far enough to avoid getting a sword through her face. Instead it sliced along her scalp, blood immediately spilling down the side of her face.
She bared her teeth in a grimace, the blood lending her an air of madness, frightening enough that he seemed to lose a bit of his nerve as she swung her axe at him. He got his blade up in time for the first swing, and the second, but on the third he stumbled under the onslaught dead. His footing insecure he was unable to stop the axe before it buried itself into the side of his neck. His head was still attached, apparently a clean decapitation was harder than the tavern stories made it seem, but it flopped over as his lifeblood poured from the wound. The light left his eyes like a snuffed candle as he collapsed to the floor.
The hold fell silent, aside from blood dripping from the raiders axe, as we all took in this new development. We could only hope this would not turn out to be a fate worse than the one we’d previously been resigned to.