The Chains that Bind - Memories of a slave (Whisper.)

[tirelesstracker]

   

    The beating was worse than usual. One of the Master's schemes did not go as planned, and she was his favorite to abuse. She was so submissive, so accepting of her place, and yet durable enough to withstand the worst of his ideas for entertainment. She rose from the floor, a crumpled heap in pain, back to her knees to kneel before him, the blood dripping from her face to the floor. The Master was pacing. His attention was not fully on the slave. Over the years, she has become more accepting of her lot in life, and almost seemed to willingly embrace it. The Master's guard has waned during this time. She took whatever he dished out. Besides, she was meek and powerless, and he was a mage of considerable power. There was little concern over a broken, bleeding wretch on the floor. She looked to the boots of the sole guard nearby. The Master was ranting to him over whatever plagued his mood.

Podrick. The guard was Podrick. Out of all of those on the Master's staff, this one has always been somewhat kind. He was gentle when it came to cleaning her up and seeing to her wounds. He rarely spoke to her, but his actions never conveyed the malice that came from the other guards. On this day, he too had relaxed around the poor girl. She'd never shown anything but acceptance of her fate, and the Master was the priority at the moment. The Master stopped his pacing in front of the girl, and sneered down at her.

" Nothing to say, wretch? Cat got your tongue?"

It was his favorite insult. She used to be able to sing. It was the one thing that brought her the smallest comfort, and he took that from her with a blade across her throat. Another boot to the stomach. She hunched over as the wind was forced from her lungs. Her vision went blurry. Moments passed, and she recovered slowly. The Master's back was to her, as he stood before her. Podrick had moved closer, due to something in their conversation. This was it. She would leave, or she would die. It didn't matter anymore. Either way, she was free.

She sprung to her feet, and on her way up she reached for Podrick's blade. At the sound of metal sliding from the scabbard, The Master began to turn. He let out a cry and raised his hands to prepare a spell, but the blade came down, removing fingers from his hand. In the same momentum, she brought the blade around a second time. There was a wet thud as a limb hit the floor. She snatched up the arm and whipped around, pointing the blade at Podrick. He was close. He ad moved to grab her while she harmed the Master, but she was faster. He put his hands up, open palmed towards her. He was trying to calm her, convince her to disarm. But her decision was made. If she was caught alive, she'd be tormented for the rest of her existence nonstop for what she did. She rasped at him.

" Do not try and stop me. You I do not wish to kill. Tend to him before he bleeds out, or his death is on your hands for doing nothing."


He hesitated. He knew she was right, but he also knew if he let her escape he'd be in the wrong as well. She moved quickly away from him, keeping the sword raised in his direction. As soon as she felt she was far enough, she ran. She knew the secret passages of the estate well. She'd been dragged through them and forced to serve through them many times in her life. But this time one wrong turn meant death, and she heard an alarm bell being rung. She had little time. She ran, and took turns quickly as she heard armored footfalls closing in. She left the passage, into a bedroom. She frowned at herself. She had to have taken a wrong turn, but there was no going back. The footsteps approached. She moved to the window. How could she have been so stupid. She overlooked the sands below. The estate was built on a cliffside, with intent for there to only be one way out. She opened the window and rose to the ledge. She had already prepared herself for death. At least if she died in the fall, she died on her own terms. She leaned forward, the wind felt so good against her tortured flesh. She savored it, hugging the severed arm in her rapid descent. These last few moments before she rejoined her mother. She closed her eyes. This was the end.



Whisper opened her eyes with a start, looking around. She was still in the common room of the Griffon, kneeling near a cot. She closed her eyes and shook her head. These memories constantly invaded her meditations. She inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. She was still alive. She removed the chained book from her belt, and began to study. She knew he was still out there. She knew he would not rest until she was captured, and suffered for her transgressions. And she knew he had magic. Her eyes drifted over the draconic of her spellbook. This time, she would have magic as well. She will live or die on her terms.

[tirelesstracker]

Another day had passed, another batch of slaves have been brought in. The girl had been paraded about in front of them as a shining example of what he expected. Docile, submissive, accepting. One had already been selected for the usual experiments. In the laboratory, the girl carried the try of surgical tools while hovering near The Master. This test subject was chosen because it was supposed to be hardy. The seller bragged it had unmatched fortitude for even the most exhaustive of tasks. That fortitude was being put to the test as a scalpel sliced away another pound of flesh. Minutes ticked by, they turned to hours until the subject lay motionless on the operating table. Another failure. The girl knew the Master's failure meant she would be punished. She was pinned to the wall, hand gripping her throat. The scalpel was drawn slowly across her face, only deep enough to draw blood. Tears welled in her eyes, and poured down her cheeks. Her eyes remained downcast to the floor else the Master assumed she was staring back in defiance. The scalpel traveled down her body, leaving a thin, red line. The girl knew what was to come. She had to endure, for her family. Three sisters, and her mother. All slaves, used primarily as hostages to ensure his favorite and seemingly most durable slave remained fully docile.

An hour later, Podrick had finished cleaning her wounds and allowed her to wash of the shame and filth the Master always left the girl with. She was returned to her cell, and embraced by her family. So caring, her beloved sisters. Her kind and caring mother. They were the strength of the girl. She could endure anything for them. for all the hurt and malice the Master dished out, they could always heal. For them, the girl would endure.

Whisper opened her eyes, and exhaled slowly. Memories of the past have had a habit of haunting her during her meditations as of late, and they always left her feeling disoriented. She shook her head and went to the privy. She washed her face, and looked in the mirror. Dark circles hung under her eyes. The memories always prevented her from getting any rest. She sighed heavily, and raised her hood. Time to get on with the day. She knew it would be pointless trying to rest again so soon.

[tirelesstracker]

Another day was coming to a close. The cell door closed behind her, and the girl moved to the small pile of furs the rest of her family awaited her on. She sat down, and forced a smile to them. They were her strength, and so she had to be strong for them. She asked about their day. The girl knew their mother had been educating her sisters, with the hope that the girl would eventually satisfy the Master enough to earn the freedom of her family. They were the future. Nothing mattered but them.

As the evening drew to a close, the girls got comfortable and prepared for bed. The girl was snuggled between the other four. She began to sing softly to them. Words of hope she had, in the most melodic of tones. It helped them sleep, and from the looks she got from other slaves, she believed it helped those in the surrounding cells as well. It was a typical night in her slave wing. A routine followed for years. At least, that is how it began. The girl's melody was drown out by the sound of boots marching hard down the stairs, into the hall. Four guards stood outside her cell, joined shortly by the Master. He pointed at her, and a guard marched into her cell and yanked her out of bed. The girl was dragged before the master, scared and confused.

" You naughty little bird. Words of hope? Dreams? You've been filling the heads of my property with the wrong ideas. I think you need to be punished for this."

This was different. The Master never bothered them after hours. The girl was afraid. She didn't know what was happening. He held out a hand towards one of the guardsmen, who placed a scalpel in his hand. Two guards gripped her firmly by each arm, bracing her and holding her in place.

" I would not move if I were you, little bird. I'd hate to have to replace you with one of them." He nonchalantly pointed the scalpel back in her cell at her sisters.

That was the kick she needed to knock her back into docility. With a cruel grin, he stepped forward and grabbed her chin, jerking her head up. The third guard removed her collar. The scalpel was sliced across her throat, and her eyes widened. Was she to die for singing? She tried to look down at him, but a guard held her head up. She felt her blood spilling down her body. It was growing hard to breathe. The master inserted two fingers into the wound, into her larynx, and yanking at her vocal folds. The pain was dull. Her vision was dimming. Every breath she tried to take filled her lungs with more blood. This was not how she expected to die. She wished her sisters did not have to witness it. She was not strong enough to protect them.

"I'm sorry." She choked out before it all went black.

Once more, Whisper's eyes opened quickly, and she let out a raspy, pained cry of surprise. Her hands when immediately for her throat. To the iron bar around her neck. The gnarled scarred flesh beneath it. She held her hands there for several long moments. Looking around the common room, and finding it empty, she hung her head, and began to cry.