In the end, Boras was thankful for having Sitra tagging along with him. Had she not been with him, he would have found it increasingly difficult to leave. Especially with the curfew placed into effect. Dammit all, he hated that she was right.

  They had tracked Darius and Hacker through the city, careful to hold a certain distance between them. Not too close for fear of discovery, but not too far som they could lose them. They did not waste time either. They took the straightest route towards the Northern gate. This route took them through some of the more seedier parts of the city which Sitra helpfully pointed out to Boras. Several low-level gatherings and two ordained gangs (The Pockets and The Woodsmen) controlled the areas they traversed through.

  But despite the high criminal factor, no one got in Hacker’s way.

  Boras didn’t find that surprising. When you have a Bodyhunter as escort, only the desperate or the suicidal would dare to pickpocket the doctor’s sizeable coin pouch. The reputation of the Bodyhunters preceded Darius like he were a leper in a commune for dangerously sick children.

  Before long, the two pairs reached the gate, similar in imposing size and amount of guards like the Western one. As the guards immediately stood to attention upon seeing Darius approach, Sitra grabbed Boras by his shoulder and pulled him to the side to avoid being seen. Inside the alcove of an overhanging balcony house that played stables for a row of cart oxen, Sitra sighed as she leant against the stucco and wooden wall.

  “So?” She asked with crossed arms. “What are you planning? I mean, you want to ambush a Bodyhunter or something? You realise how insane that sounds.”

  “No. That’s stupid.” Boras peered around the corner to see the gate, Hacker and Darius were in conversation with the gate’s guards. Boras wiped the sweat from his brow. The stress and the heat were giving him a terrible thirst.

  “I’m going to see where their fortress is, scope out their fortifications. Surely there has to be a weakness in there somewhere.”

  “Weakness? In that place?” Sitra shook her head. “Not a chance. You think Markus will let anything get in without his knowledge? What exactly is this going to do in helping you?”

  “Hey, at least it’s something.” Boras snapped, whipping his head towards her. “I didn’t help Arcos when he needed me, alright? I got to find a way to make up for it. So this is what I’m going to do.”

  “But why do you need to make up for it?”

  “I just need to!”

  Sitra suddenly eyeballed Boras keenly, her eyes shone bright against her darker satin scarf. Boras looked back at her with a bit of confusion.

  “What?” He asked her.

  “I just… I don’t understand you. You come across as some sort of jester: You act like a lout in front of my father and a drunk with your friends. You act like you take nothing seriously. But now, you’re all brooding and focused. I do not know what my father saw in you. I still don’t.”

  “Maybe you should be looking at things a bit more carefully, huh? We need to go.” Boras started back for the gate, but Sitra put a hand on his arm. It was not forceful as he had expected. It was softer. Even tender. That made him pause.

  “Hold on.” She said.

  “What the hells for? We’re going to lose them.”

  “You may have been able to lie your way into the city. But you think that’s going to work every time? Come on.” With her hand still on his arm, Sitra pulled Boras in the opposite direction of the gate.

  They turned down an alleyway that ran parallel with the Northern Wall. Sitra stopped their walk halfway and, with a flick of her boot, kicked away a broken section palisade laying the ground.

  Revealing a rusted and grimy manhole cover.

  Boras watched in interest as Sitra knelt down and used a knife from her belt to scrape away the dirt from the edges and the face of the iron plate. This further revealed a steel handle, once hidden by the grime, which she pulled up. As she pulled, the plate lifted on a hinge that was also obscured by dirt. With the cover lifted away, there lay a hole of shadow. Sitra pointed down. “Alright. In we go.”

  Boras leant over to see down there in the dark, but he reeled back from the miasmic stench that fumed out. “Gods above!”

  “What? It’s a sewer. Don’t you have those in Tashiish?”

  “Of course we do! Just nothing that stank this bad! You cannot be serious.”

  Sitra cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I thought you were determined to help out your friends. Come on, you pussy.”

  Sitra swung her legs down into the hole and latched her boots onto the iron rung ladder that hung just out of view. Step by step, she descended and was swallowed by blackness.

  Boras kept looking around, checking to see if anyone saw them. Being in an alleyway, there was no one.

  Sitra’s voice echoed from the shadows. “Do us a favour and close that on your way down. Not many people know this entrance, like to keep that way.”

  Boras sighed deeply and muttered a prayer to the Black before following the adventurous Sitra down. He did his utmost to not throw up against the foul stench as he closed the hinged cover, shutting off the welcoming light and enveloping him in subterranean darkness.

  The sewers stank bad. Very bad. Worse than rotten eggs and forgotten fish. Worse than the excrement of a thousand plague-ridden cows. Boras tried not to think about what could causing the smell and what could be awaiting him down there, or what could even survive there. That was until his boots reached the stone floor and he heard a squelch under his sole. He shuddered, as his mind raced with the hundred possible things that his boot had possibly squashed… Thank the Black that it was too dark for him to see a single thing.

  “Sitra?” He spoke out in the blinding dark. “Sitra? Where the hells are you?”

  “I’m here. Don’t be scared.” Her voice was a bit of a ways from him.

  Their voices echoed around them.

  “Fuck you, I’m not scared.”

  She chuckled. “You sound like it.”

  “Dammit, Sitra! I can’t see anything!”

  “I know.”

  “Stop playing around! Where do we go?”

  “Hold on. It should be here somewhere…” Boras heard a squelching of boots on whatever paved the floor. “Okay… maybe… here… Nope, that’s definitely a shoe. Oh yeah, I’m getting a bath afterwards… Ah. Ah! There.”

  “What?”

  “A lantern. And if my dad’s men are any good… Perfect.”

  There was a spark of embers. Boras caught a flash image of Sitra, standing before a hanging candle lantern with some flint in her hands. A few sparks later and an orange flame grew upon the candle’s wick, filling light in the sewer.

  It was a dark tiled circular tunnel with two thin pathways on either side of the tunnel. Between the pathways was a channel that funnelled the watery filth along the designed path. Copper pipes snaked down from the ceiling of the tunnel that fed into the river. Sounds of thickened water splashed down the pipes and heavy splashes suggested to Boras that the sewer was fully utilised with plenty more to shift out from the toilets of the city.

  Boras swallowed down his bile. He had no idea how long he could stand this.

  “No time to waste,” Sitra said. “This way.”

  Sitra was clearly no stranger to the sewer, for she was able to find a way along the twists and turns which presented themselves to him and her. Boras lost count the number of times he assumed that Sitra would go the opposite the way that he would have chosen.

  “This is one of the ways for my dad’s smuggling to work.” She explained. “When the Barons came into power, they were so fixated on securing their hold, they poured all the city’s fund into the Lawgivers, the military and judicial buildings. All control. But other factors, like the sewers here, they were left abandoned. Why should they care? All the swedes are good for is shuffling crap and waste out to the sea. That was until the gangs’ leaders like Dad took control of them and exploited them.”

  “No one else uses them? Just the gangs?”

  “Just the gangs. You have people watching the entry points of the sewers. Lookouts from the various gangs. The manhole we just used, that’s one of ours. And outsiders like you would have no reason to know about it. With this system, we can get anywhere.”

  “That’s useful to know. Thank you, Sitra.”

  She paused at the grateful reply. But she answered with a quick “You’re welcome.” before moving ahead.

  After two minutes of hurried walking, Boras saw sunlight ahead. It cut through the dark with thin slices. Even the air began to mercifully clear up.

  Sitra laughed. “There. About time.” Pushing on, they reached a locked grate that linked with a small stream that flowed down into the entryway of the sewer. Sitra wasted no time. She blew out the candle, hung up the lantern by the edge of the grate and fished around the dirt on the floor directly underneath the lantern. Smiling, she stood back up and presented a brass key on a steel ring. The steel ring was attached to a thin chain that was hammered into the wall, so it wouldn’t be lost amidst the shadows. She jammed in the key and twisted, unlocking the gate and pulling it open. She and Boras headed out, with Sitra locking the gate behind her and flicking the key back inside.

  They hurried out of the dug down ditch that led to the sewer’s gate and funnelled a rivulet of water from Dargan’s Arrow and found themselves standing before the stretching fields of the North.

  Peering to their right, they spied the Northern road and beyond that in the horizon, the coastline and the blue ocean of the East. And moving along the Northern Road on two horses, were two men in travelling cloaks. One with snow white hair.

  “Perfect timing!” Boras exclaimed. “Let’s go.”

  “You better not get me killed.” Sitra warned, but following him nonetheless.

  ???

  Upon approaching the fortress, Hacker noted the increased number of guards that patrolled the parapets of the wall. He could have sworn that there were fewer during his last visit. Something had changed here and the sense of tension wasn’t just coming from the fortress, but also from the man riding alongside him.

  Twice, Darius had stopped in his saddle and turned his head around to scan the countryside behind them. The first time, they were half an hour’s ride from Fennaposia. He remained like that for ten minutes; still, silent and squinting at the expansive fields of crops farmed by the locals. The second time, they were within sight of the fortress.

  Darius had come down from his horse and drew his twin sickles. He then made a wide circular perimeter around their position, wading through the cliffside bog mire and the waist high grass. He swung his sickles in a low level, gracefully cutting through the green blades. Hacker watched him, choosing not to speak.

  Darius was acting like they were being followed. Clearly, since meeting him at his home, Darius was on edge.

  Hacker wished he knew what was bothering his friend. He wished he could help in some way, in any way. Perhaps the lifestyle was finally getting to him. Hacker could only hope that was the case. It would make the idea of suggesting his family’s evacuation easier to plead. They carried on, but Darius would keep his eyes on their wake, showing a deep degree of suspicion.

  They reached the fortress and as always, a Bodyhunter noted their approach. The signal was made and the portcullis and gate were pulled open. Entering, Darius made one last glance behind them as the gate closed.

  The main square was alive with activity, even more so. Men and women were in training, newer faces amongst the older members of the Bodyhunters. Hacker noted Steer, hands behind his back, inspecting the rawer recruits with a critical eye and shouting obscenities to those who failed his impossible standards. After hitching up his horse, Hacker was brought by Darius inside the keep and straight down to the cells.

  “How are you feeling today?” Hacker asked Barnabas. Barnabas stared down Hacker with a glare. “I have been told that you were being belligerent again.” Hacker followed.

  “You guess right.” The large man growled.

  Sitting on his wooden stool on his side of the cell’s bars, Hacker did his best to not note the purple swellings that Barnabas sported on his left eye, his mouth and chin as the man squatted on his own stool before him.

  That injury was the result of a guard attempting to rape one of the Silverstreak women. It happened during the cell changes required to clean out the communal chamberpots and bedding to avoid rampant infections. Barnabas attacked the guard, breaking the man’s jaw and saving the distraught woman from suffering yet another horror.

  Barnabas was beaten badly for his attack. And as for the offending guard, Hacker did not know where he had gone nor had seen any man with a broken jaw upon his arrival. It was safe to say that that guard was no longer anyone’s problem now...

  Say what one would about Markus - which was a great deal - but the Baron at least kept to his word. No one touched the slaves without his permission for fear of damaging their potential price. And his retribution was swift on anyone who threatened his property.

  “For what it is worth…” Hacker said, with a careful tone. “I am sorry for what happened. And I am sorry for what has happened already…”

  “Really?” Barnabas spat. “You wanna be sorry? Let us out. Lock yourself in here. Get whipped for stepping out of line. Get appraised like cattle. Get laughed at. Spat on. Threatened. Herded. Locked up. After all that is done, then you can tell me you’re sorry.”

  After that meeting and few more others from some of the Silverstreak slaves, Hacker met the Belle Dame again. Having now been locked up for days had done the woman no justice. Her hair was a stringy mess, dirt nestled under her fingernails and darkening circles under her eyes suggested numerous sleepless nights. But she shared that same blistering glare that Barnabas had.

  “You…” She hissed under her breath. “Come to check on our teeth again?”

  “No. No. Not this time…” Hacker shifted on his stool. “I just wanted to talk.”

  “Talk?”

  “Yes.”

  “About what? The weather? You honestly think there is anything worth talking about here?”

  “I understand that this is terrible. Believe me, I wish there was something that I could do to help you-”

  “You do not understand.” The Belle Dame cut him off. “You have no idea what it is to be treated like meat. To be grabbed and stared at. You know my girls? The ones that weren’t hanged or being hurt back home right this moment? You know that they cannot sleep. Every time they hear one of the guards’ footsteps, they think they’ll be dragged from this place and be gang-raped. You understand what type of fear that is? What it does to someone’s mind? Every time we hear something about that bastard Markus, all we remember is his voice when he gave the order to string up our families and friends and even children… So you don’t understand. Don’t try to.”

  Hacker was leaning on his knees, listening. He took off his glasses to wipe away the sweat from the lenses. “I had heard of Silverstreak. Rumours and whispers… It is monstrous that he did that.”

  “He didn’t need to.” The Belle Dame suddenly sobbed, feeling the effects of fatigue sweeping up on her. “He had us all at the edge of a sword. There wasn’t any fight in us. We weren’t going to resist. It was senseless…”

  She wiped at her eyes and it was then that Hacker saw it. The blackish hue on her hand, a blemish. The Belle Dame saw his eyes fixated on her hand. “Yes… I am Marked.” She confirmed.

  “Remarkable.” Hacker drew up his stool to be closer to the bars of the cell. “I- I had heard of the Marked. But I have not met one before in my life.” He proffered his hand to hers. “May I? I do not wish to intrude…”

  The Belle Dame hesitated and then extended her hand through the gap of the bars.

  Hacker held her hand gently and turned it over, studying the strange birthmark-like patch. “What is your skill, may I ask? From what I studied, all the Marked possess one.”

  The Belle Dame’s eyes darkened a tad. “It is not a tasteful skill. I can make it that a woman can be unburdened by a child.”

  “Ah.” Hacker nodded slowly, hearing the distaste in her words. “That would be… useful, given your profession. Though I would not envy such a trait.” He released her hand. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Hacker remained with the Belle Dame and continued his conversation with her for a few more minutes afterwards. Whilst Barnabas was bitterly angry and vengeful - which given the situation was understandable - the Belle Dame remained with a sense of cordiality that only compounded the sweep of shame that Hacker felt for their plight. How, oh how could this country live off the bloodied sweat of slaves? What had the world come to? These people were human beings, with goals and fears and aspirations…

  His pained musings were momentarily set aside as he bid a farewell to the Belle Dame and continued his rounds, till reaching the children at the end of the darkened passageway.

  Upon arrival to the Fortress, the children were separated from their parents and relatives and kept in a row of three cells. This was a way to keep the adults in line. They wouldn’t dare start any violence that would jeopardise the safety of their children. Hacker saw the children, all of them were frail and scared.

  Most of their clothes were turning into dirtied rags, so much so that they looked ready for life on the streets. The aching in his chest twinged at the very sight of them. Gods, this was painful. But he had a job to perform, at least this would be a certainty that the children were treated well.

  It was interesting to see that young woman once again sitting with some of the younger children in the middle cell. He remembered this one. Nerisity, was it? He had heard her name in passing between two soldiers whilst on his recent visit here.

  She was a prized possession amongst the group, according to Markus. ‘Very important stock’ was the phrase, as disgusted as Hacker felt to recall it.

  He stood at the cell and coughed politely. The red-haired girl turned from tending to a sobbing boy and rose to face him.

  Hacker was struck by her beauty.

  It was not pure of heart, there was a world-weariness to it which only made her ice-blue eyes shine more brightly. She held very little fear in those eyes. Her eyes were solid and straight, even though they were bloodshot and sagging. Her lips were tight and thin with indigence, even though they were chapped. She beheld a strength that Hacker had come to admire amongst the Silverstreakers. Despite their situation and what they had lost and suffered, they were not broken by it all.

  “Hello.” She spoke, giving Hacker a single nod.

  Hacker bowed his head in respect. “Good afternoon, Nerisity.” He placed his stool by the cell and sat there. “Are you keeping well, despite everything?”

  Nerisity approached the cell, unblinking and stern. “Yes. Despite everything.”

  “Good. Good.” Hacker rubbed his forehead and sighed.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Headache?” She asked.

  “Brought about by dehydration. I am fine.”

  “I would offer you water. But they tend to forget to give us even that at times.”

  “I will talk to the guards. Arrange for proper refreshments to be sent down. You have my word.”

  Nerisity blinked at that. The coldness in her face began to ebb away. “Thank… thank you. I thought you’d be like the rest.”

  “I try to be better, whenever I can.” Hacker glanced around him. Seeing no guards, he leant forward to her. “Tell me… why does Markus value you and your people with such high importance? I have seen him bring in many people, to be sold and enslaved within the same day. But you? He has made it so that you are kept alive and kept here for some extended period…”

  Nerisity leant her shoulder against the bars and rubbed her mouth in thought. Then her eyes widened in feared realisation. “Oh gods… Arcos.”

  “Who?”

  “Arcos. He’s… he’s a friend. Him and others that came to the town a year ago. They were the ones who helped us against Malachi.”

  “I’ve heard of them.” Hacker shifted his weight forward, leaning towards Nerisity with growing interest. “Yes, the revolt's instigators. They drove out Malachi and killed a fair number of his soldiers.”

  “Markus… He’s holding us to draw out Arcos.”

  He nodded. “Hmm… I wouldn’t be surprised. That man is a tactician and has always ensured he remains in control.”

  “Damn him. Damn him!” Nerisity slapped the bars with her fists, making them ring in the gloom. “We thought we killed Malachi as well. Reeva told us that she struck him with a bolt. There shouldn’t have been a chance!”

  “Not so…” Hacker clenched his fists. “I am sorry to say this… He was found on his horse, not far from the Western Gate. He was barely alive when they brought him to the hospital. And… I was one of the doctors called in to save his life.”

  Nerisity stared at Hacker with incredulous shock. A shock that turned to a simmering anger.

  “You? You saved that…man?” She asked in a dangerous whisper.

  “I know.” Hacker nodded, his eyes barely meeting her. “I know what I have done. But there was nothing I could do to stop him. If I had the power… I would have let him die. But if I didn’t save him, another doctor would have… And I would be charge for breaking my oath.”

  “And then he called his brother to help solve his troubles.” Nerisity spat.

  “It would seem to have been the case, yes.”

  “How could you do that? Do you know what he did? The people he hurt, threatened, killed? And Markus… He hanged my friends! Reeva’s family! Derrick!” Nerisity panted, feeling flushed and hot under her neck.

  She couldn’t think straight as she stared daggers at the one man that responsible for saving Malachi. This man who couldn’t see his part in the suffering that her people had gone through!

  This… this… this…

  Nerisity began to heave.

  She wretched, coughed, twisted away from Hacker and then suddenly vomited onto the floor of the cell.

  The children jumped back in surprise as she dropped on her hands and knees, spewing bile and the little food which they had been fed by their captors. She shook and shivered, coughing out more bile before dropping to her side and fainting.

  The children began to scream.

  Hacker leapt to his feet, eyes aghast at the sight of the collapsed girl.

  “Oh dear Gods!” He screamed. “Guard, guard!”

  ???

  “Alright. This is going be more difficult than I thought.” Boras commented.

  “Oh, you’re realising this now?” Sitra replied surly.

  Both he and Sitra lay in the deep grass of the fields south of the Fortress, watching the patrols upon the battlements. They were only a hundred feet or so from the wall. In the last hour between seeing Hacker enter the gates and now, they had counted two dozen men at any given time on the walls, which showed a strong number of watchmen to contend with. The pair had hidden themselves back far enough to ensure no one could see them. They had to.

  There were a couple of close shaves with Darius.

  Boras couldn’t explain how Darius sensed them following him. He just did. Twice they ducked into the growth of the land to hide from his cold glare. It was a sixth sense he had or something along that line. Boras wouldn’t have been surprised if the Bodyhunter was possibly Marked, equipped with some unfair ability to sense his prey.

  Sitra had remained cool and collected for most of the trail, keeping her eyes fixed on Hacker and Darius. But every so often, she would shoot Boras a glare that expressed her thoughts as clearly as if she had spoken them: This is a fucking dumb idea and that says a lot concerning you.

  Boras would have agreed with that statement, at least a year ago he certainly would have. He would have never thought in a hundred years that he’d be willingly tracking a Bodyhunter to the headquarters of a Baron, practically goading the Hands of Fate to take a swing at him.

  But he couldn’t say that now. He had changed. He had trained with fighters and taken in their wisdom and some of the teachings. He had developed a sense of courage, one that was driving him to commit reckless acts.

  He had to do whatever he could to help. This was the right thing to do and perhaps be a way for him to redeem himself in his eyes…

  Now here they were, lying in the mud and grass, tracking the movements of the guards and counting the time it took for them to change shifts. It was getting cold. The Eastern winds rolled in from the sea, tinging the scent of the air with salty brine.

  “Look, how exactly do you intend to break into this place?” Sitra asked in a whisper as the second shift changed with the third. Ten seconds. “Twenty-four guards at all times, most of the Bodyhunters living here day in and day out, and it’s Baron Markus's personal headquarters. Need I say more?”

  “It’s not like they’re expecting us to come for them here. Right to their doorstep.” Boras said. “We’d be absolutely mad to do so. They won’t see us coming.”

  “But you are absolutely mad to do so.”

  Boras looked at her with a smirk. “Exactly. Which is why it’s the perfect plan to hit them here. They’ll be focused on the city or the roads outside or even the slave markets and pits.”

  Sitra turned to him and raised her eyebrow. “This group you’re a part of… they didn’t teach you tactics, did they?”

  “And your point being…?”

  “It’s suicidal! There is no chance that you can launch a frontal assault on this place. I mean… sneaking in could work. But one misstep, just one, and that’s it.”

  He rolled his eyes and turned onto his side to face her fully. “It’s better than no plan at all. The longer we wait, the likely it is that the prisoners get separated and sold away. Then there is no chance ever finding them again.”

  “Which is why it’s better off to wait for them to send out the prisoners as they get transported. Ambush them in the roads or even the city.”

  “No, they’ll be prepared for anything. You heard the rumours about rebels in the South. They’d expect something like that. So the roads are a no-go”

  “Oh for the love of- Boras, think about this. It’s not going to work. It’s- What?”

  Boras was now looking at her with concern in his eyes. “You’re not looking at the guards.”

  Sitra blinked in confusion. “Neither are you.”

  They looked back towards the battlements. And there was a person standing at the battlements, standing still and staring. Staring in their direction. Staring at them.

  “Oh no.” Sitra hissed.

  “Do not move an inch.” Boras hissed back.

  “Can they see us?”

  “I- I don’t know.”

  They lay there, still as ice. They watched at the person on the battlements leant forward, head pointed towards them. There was no cry for alarm. No shouting. The person remained there for a moment, watching and waiting. The person then ducked down out of sight for a moment, arose and aimed something.

  “Son of a-” Sitra cursed as a whistling of wind came right for them. A crossbow bolt drove itself into the ground, directly between Boras and Sitra.

  “Fuuuuck…” Sitra hissed. “We need to go.”

  Boras locked his hand on her wrist, holding her in place. Sitra instantly tensed at his touch.

  “Not an inch.” He whispered again.

  In silence, the pair watched as the person remained at the battlement, peering down in their direction. After a moment, the person moved out of sight.

  “Okay. Don’t stand.” Boras began to shifted his body backwards through the grass, still keeping his body close to the ground.

  Sitra gasped out a breath and followed his lead. It was a few minutes of this until they had doubled their distance from the fortress.

  By then, they had reached the main road that led towards the fortress, a road that was flanked by a pair of ditches and a pair of natural hedgerows.

  The pair were about to stand when they noted the portcullis of the gateway opening. And out of the gateways, came a horse rider galloping at full speed.

  “Get down!” Sitra snapped, grabbing Boras and throwing him to the ground. She dropped down with him into the thicket of bramble and thistle. Spines of the branches lashed at their skin, drawing thin lines of blood across their cheeks. They lay there in silence, still as they could allow themselves. Then they could hear it. The hooves of the horse thudding into the dirt of the road, getting louder and louder, closer and closer. The rider drew up upon the road, directly in line with their hiding spot. In such close proximity, they were able to get a look at the rider.

  It was a woman, wearing the typical tricorn hat and high-collar leather coat of the Bodyhunters. Her brightly blonde hair peeked out from under the rim of her hat, which was only accentuated by the cold expression she wore. She gripped the reins of her horse, sitting with ease in the saddle.

  Boras and Sitra lay there, hands over their mouths.

  The Bodyhunter clicked her tongue and pushed her horse on. Her horse moved at a steady pace, down the road for a moment. Then she turned around and rode back up, passing the two of them and up the road towards the fortress. She continued this patrol, showing no sign of ceasing it.

  All the while, Boras and Sitra did not dare move.

  ???

  Nerisity felt truly awful. It was bad enough that she was in this evil place, unable to gleam any sense of kindness from her captors. It was worse that she would be forced to hear the suffering of her friends and children in the exact same position as she. But it was far worse now that she herself was sick with some illness.

  She was depended upon by the children in her care. It was the role that she appointed herself to succeed in. They were terrified. Alone. No sign of their parents. It was an agony she knew too well. She would spend her evenings comforting the children with her stories that she could recall from her books that the Belle Dame gave her. It was some help.

  But now, she was on a bed that was brought in by the guards at the doctor’s request.

  The children were herded out of the cell and into the adjacent one. The doctor demanded a basin of warm water, cloths and fresh linen to changed out of her soiled clothes.

  Nerisity breathed raggedly. This doctor that knelt by her and applied a damp cloth to her forehead. He was a strange man. He professed to work for the Barons, even saving one of those accursed bastards, but he was not by any means a cruel man. He was just a doctor doing his job as it dictated.

  Her stomach coiled and she lurched to her side to throw up into the bucket on the floor beside her.

  Hacker, that doctor, held her steady as she coughed out bile once more.

  “Steady yourself.” He asked of her calmly. “You had a bad fall there.”

  “What…” she gasped between breaths. “What is happening to me?”

  “I am unsure.” Hacker laid her back gently on the bed. “Perhaps malnutrition or stress from what has befallen you… I will need to keep an eye on you to be sure. But perhaps, you could use some care from another you trust.”

  “I… I trust you.” Nerisity spoke. “Even though… you are working for them…”

  Hacker smiled sadly. “That is some comfort to hear, but please do not coddle me with half-truths. It is better that you are with another you care for. Please wait for a moment.”

  Hacker stood up and departed from the cell.

  Nerisity lay there in her bed. She coughed a couple more times and spat out bile from her parched lips. She shook with each breath. She wondered if she had caught a deadly illness. She shivered with the thought of that.

  What if she died in here? That would not be fair.

  She didn’t deserve to die in a dark, cold cell, surrounded by evil people. She closed her eyes as tears welled up. She wanted to die in the free air, with those she loved. In the arms of the one person that she felt safest with…

  Her mind wandered back to those wondrous evenings and nights she had spent with him. With her Arcos… She recalled his hands, coarse yet gentle, holding her bare shoulders and back close to his body. She recalled his warmth merging with hers. She smiled through the tears. Oh how she wished that she could return to those days… to truly cherish them and appreciate them. If she had known that she fate would be a lonely death in shadows… she would have done so many things differently. She would have been honest with him. She would tell him so much about her life, her past and how she became the girl she was now. And in turn, she would have asked him everything about his life, learn all about his likes and dislikes. To enjoy his company and build upon the relationship that never got a chance to start.

  She wished he was here, holding her hand.

  “Nerisity!” A familiar voice. The Belle Dame!

  Nerisity opened her eyes to see her. She was a wretched sight, most certainly as bad as herself, as the wonderful woman swept through the cell door and knelt down beside her. A motherly hand laid upon her forehead and a tender kiss landed on her cheek.

  “You are cold and sweating!” The Belle Dame exclaimed in fear. She whipped her head towards Hacker who had followed them in. “What is wrong with her??”

  “I am in the process of deducing that.” Hacker reassured. “I am certain it is not life-threatening.” He drew up a chair and sat beside them. Taking Nerisity’s hand, he placed his fingers upon her wrist whilst taking out a sliver pocket-watch from his waistcoat. He watched the time as he counted the pulse in her wrist.

  “I… I don’t know what is happening.” Nerisity whimpered. “I’m scared.”

  “Hush…” The Belle Dame cooed. “Hush now, my little starling. You are going to be alright. Now think carefully… have you been feeling anything wrong this week?”

  “I cannot remember… I don’t know… I’m so tired…” Nerisity sighed through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do not apologise.” The Belle Dame placed her hand on Nerisity’s cheek. “Just breathe, in and out slowly.”

  “Her heartbeat is steady.” Hacker lowered Nerisity’s hand. Then he sat back, stroking his chin. His face was in deep thought as he studied Nerisity intently.

  Nerisity saw his face and his change in behaviour. “What… what is it?”

  The Belle Dame looked to him as well, searching his face for an answer.

  “I pray to the Gods that I am wrong.” He answered. “Nerisity. Do I have your permission to examine you? I ask that you trust me.”

  Nerisity’s eyes widened. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I need to be certain. This is the only way I can be.”

  Nerisity was silent for a moment. “Alright…”

  Hacker leant forward and began to untie the front of Nerisity’s gown. The Belle Dame slapped away his hand. “What the hells!?”

  “Trust me.” Hacker fixed her a look. “We must be certain.”

  “It’s alright…” Nerisity said. “You’re here with me, Belle Dame.”

  The Belle Dame contorted a glare his way but allowed him to proceed. Hacker thanked her and resumed opening up Nerisity’s gown and exposing her chest. After adjusting his glasses, he looked over her breasts. After measuring them with his span of his hand, he gently pressed his fingers into certain areas of the flesh and the areola. When he did so, Nerisity whimpered.

  “Does that hurt?” He asked.

  She nodded. “It’s really sore…”

  “Right.” He tied up her front gown and covered her appropriately. “A few questions, please answer them the best you can: have you been feeling tired? More so that usual?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you been feeling sick like this before?”

  “I have been nauseous… but not like this…”

  “Have you developed cravings for certain foods?”

  “Maybe… but the food we have here is not what you would call food…”

  “Fair enough… Nerisity, are you a virgin?”

  Nerisity looked at Hacker in shocked silence. The Belle Dame stared at him too.

  “When was your last moonflow?” He pushed on.

  And it was with that question, that all the pieces feel into place.

  “I gather that you are not a virgin. And that you have not produced your moonflow.” Hacker assumed. He looked at the Belle Dame. “Haven’t you performed your… gift on her?”

  “I- Of course I have!” The Belle Dame protested. “I did so with all the girls, every night.”

  “When was the last time that you did so with Nerisity?”

  “It was… It was just a couple of days before Markus came.”

  Nerisity closed her eyes and raised her hands over her mouth. “Oh no… gods… no…”

  The Belle Dame’s face went pale. “Nerisity… You cannot be telling me…”

  “It was the night before Markus…” Nerisity weeped. “Arcos came to see me. We slept together.”

  The Belle Dame clasped her hands together, in some vague attempt to hold the world before her from shattering.

  “I was going to see you the next morning, to have it done…” Nerisity wiped at her tears. “But then everything happened, it slipped my mind, we were under guard and locked up and separated-”

  The Belle Dame lurched forth, grabbed the opening of Nerisity’s gown and yanked it apart with manic fear.

  Hacker, the Belle Dame and Nerisity all stared in horror.

  There it was. Undeniable and exposed. Nerisity’s stomach had a small bump, imperceptible from a distance but certain enough with that knowledge they had.

  The Belle Dame slowly closed the dress in silence. And as she clutched a distraught Nerisity’s hands to hold her tight, Hacker hung his head and rubbed his face. “Gods above…”

  “What do we do?” The Belle Dame asked him as they headed back to her cell. “What the hells do we do?”

  Hacker rubbed his face. He felt tired. Dried and stretched out like tanned leather. “I- I do not know. I have given her a concoction of milk and lavender. That will help her settle.”

  “But she’s-…” The Belle Dame lowered her voice. “She’s with child.”

  “I know…” Hacker stopped his walk for a moment, causing the Belle Dame to halt hers. They looked at one another. He sighed. “I know that I cannot ask you to do what you can do.”

  The Belle Dame’s face paled. “No. Never. Not when there is a child properly growing there. I swore to never do that. Ever.”

  Hacker regarded that response, but he did not pursue it. He only nodded. “Of course.” Hacker hung his head. “It also goes against everything that I swore as a doctor and as a man.” He took off his glasses, wiped the sweat from their lenses and repositioned them upon his nose. He did so with trembling fingers.

  “It is impossible to witness. How can she be bearing so quickly? A week is not enough time for her body to be showing such significant signs. This is… Gods… I will think of a way so that she may be transferred to my clinic. Perhaps the child can be taken in my care.”

  The Belle Dame put a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. “That is cruel.”

  “Better than being born in a cell. At the very least, the child will be safe and under my charge.”

  “Will you take care of it?”

  “I will. I swear it.”

  The Belle Dame reached out her hand. Hacker took it in a firm grip.

  “Thank you.” She said.

  “Don’t thank me. Not for something like this.”

  They resumed the walk back to her cell. Hacker had his hand on her shoulder. Both remained silent as they returned to the cell door. The other occupants, including Letti and Barnabas, watched in quite confusion as the muted Belle Dame took her place on a corner of one of the benches and stared at the floor. Hacker gave a compassionate nod to them all and headed back to the surface. On the outside, he looked every bit the stoic, calm doctor who gave a willing ear and a willing hand to any needful soul.

  But on the inside, he was a swirling turmoil of growing, fearful panic.

  How, in the name of the Gods, was he going to get Nerisity and her child out? He had no idea. He had no plan. He had nothing at all.

  In the stables, Darius awaited by the horse when Hacker approached. Darius said nothing as he handed the reins to Hacker and escorted horse and doctor towards the gate.

  “I have been asked to remain.” Darius informed. “The Baron wished me to train new recruits.”

  “Of course. The day is still strong. I shall be fine on the ride back. In actual fact, I do require some solace. There are plenty of thoughts I must rifle through.”

  Darius gave the doctor an inscrutable look. “…I understand. Farewell, Doctor.”

  “Aye. You too.” Hacker hoisted himself upon his saddle and rode out through the gate, portcullis and away from the accursed fortress.

  Hacked breathed an almighty sigh. He was grateful that he did not encounter Baron Markus on his way out. With each day that passed, he found the Baron’s presence was becoming an affront to his nature as a human. The man had no love in his eyes, no care in his heart. Hacker felt sickened by the sight of him. And it was unsettling how the man stared through the people he spoke with. He wasn’t human. There was no other reason for it. Surely, a man could not be so devoid of humanity and kindness. Hacker shivered at the mere thought of a man like that with that much power.

  A darker thought swept through his mind like a raincloud. Wouldn’t be better for all that Markus just… stopped breathing tomorrow?

  His grip on the reins tightened.

  A bold man or woman, entering his chambers, sliding the knife between his ribs and twisting it… Hacker shook his head, casting the thought out.

  No. No! He was a doctor. A doctor! Even a monster had the same rights of care as anyone else… Right?

  Hacker exclaimed a growl to the sky. He spoke towards The Healer, the goddess who oversaw his line of work.

  “Let what happens happen for the right reasons.” He asked. “Let Nerisity find joy with her child. Let the people of Silverstreak find salvation. Let Markus find retribution for his actions. Let Darius find some semblance of peace. Do this and I shall remain your dutiful servant.”

  He breathed out his worries and smiled for a moment, praying that his words were heard. Looking ahead and seeing no change in the weather, he trotted on.

  His calm could only last for so long, for as he approached the hedgerows he saw the one person he did not wish to see this particular day: Hildur Blackheart.

  She was seated upon her horse, crossbow out and scanning the area around her. Her eyes were squinted as her head swivelled like a ship’s ballista. She whipped her eyes towards the sound of Hacker’s horse clopping towards her.

  Her face shifted into a cheery smile, a smile that was too wide to be genuine.

  “Good afternoon, Doctor.” She made that terrible grin. “How goes the livestock? Still ripe and ready for the harvest?” Hacker felt his insides twist. Livestock… “They are well enough… What are you doing out here?”

  A twig snapped in the hedges. Hildur spun her torso and loosed a bolt into the thicket.

  She jumped from her horse, approached the leaves, dug her hand inside and dragged out a twitching hare with the bolt impaled through its neck. Hildur smiled.

  “Hunting my prey. Not as exhilarating as slaves. But a girl has to find some fun around here. I can only play with myself for so long.”

  Hacker fought to hold back his shudder. This woman was vulgar. “…Apparently so…” Hacker pushed his horse to walk around Hildur to get to her other side.

  Hildur tore out the bolt and trussed up the hare upon her saddle.

  “You don’t like me.” She stated that plainly, without looking Hacker’s way.

  “It is difficult to find common ground with someone who enjoys the things you do with such… enthusiasm.”

  “Well, you’re entitled to your little opinions, Hacker. But I would say this, your bleeding heart is going to get you into trouble. I’ve seen the way you look at the slaves. You like them.”

  “That is true.”

  “And you want to help them.”

  “And that is a lie.”

  Hildur looked at him. “I do not lie. I see the truth. I see it for what it is. You’re soft. Weak. Nothing like what the Baron had asked from you.”

  Hacker sighed with exasperation. “Tell me. What did you or any of your kin feel when you butchered the people of Silverstreak? I have heard the rumours. Hanging innocents?”

  “Don’t forgetting beheading a child.” Hildur flashed another grin. “I guess you could say that I felt a sense of satisfaction that our point was most assuredly made. In particular with one man who tried to run away from us. Old man like that thought he could escape, but he didn’t get anywhere with my crossbow bolt in his back.”

  “How the hells do you sleep at night?” Hacker allowed the horror to creep through his eyes.

  “Like a little baby lamb.” Hildur jumped upon her saddle. “Good afternoon, Doctor. See you tomorrow.”

  Hildur kicked her stirrups and her horse bolted up the road and back towards the fortress.

  Hacker remained in the silence. He couldn’t help it. He began to weep. Leaning over his horse, he sobbed with uncontrolled pain. He raised a hand and cried into it so he could stifle his wailing. How long has it been since he was able to unleash the emotion he had bottled up. All the pain and misery he was witnessed this week. It was too much to bare. Too much. He breathed deep to regain his composure. It was a trying task. This life was trying. He did not know how much he could take. He just did not know how much he could-

  “Excuse us?” Came a young woman’s voice.

  Hacker started in surprise, turning in the saddle to see a young Darganian lady, mouth and nose masked with a satin scarf, standing behind him. She had risen from the ditch made by the hedgerow, quickly followed by a young man of clear Tashiishan origins. They were both dirtied and road weary, some leaves and twigs clung to the grime of their travelling clothes. The boy had an earnest, but also an untrusting look about him while the girl was of a colder, tougher sort.

  Hacker didn’t think they looked like bandits. But he was ready to make a gallop for the city should things turned nasty.

  “Y-yes?” He said. “May I help you?”

  The pair of strangers exchanged a look. The girl shrugged at the boy. The boy nodded.

  “I think you can.” The Tashiishan boy said with a smile that held a small measure of…hope.