Aresan Clan pt 81

The guard picked up the poker examined it and approached Mill, pointing the red, glowing tip at Mill’s face. He applied it to Mill’s neck, and as Mill shouted out with pain, Janake winced, and partly turned away. Mill then screamed, “They're attacking!”

Janake gestured for the guard to stop, and, after the poker was removed, Mill began to sputter out the words: “They’re pushing their borders winterward … expanding their territory … by destroying small Fourth Order villages … quietly … to move into the buffer zone.” He breathed heavily and could still feel the lingering pain of the burn, which he would reached out to touch if his arms weren’t restrained.

Janake frowned when he heard this, not because he didn’t believe it, but because it sounded troubling. “Honesty isn’t too hard, now is it?” he said, the frown still pulling at his mouth, “It’s interesting how torture can really disarm one’s ability to lie. Even just the slightest pain made you more honest.”

After a moment of thought, Janake gestured for the guard to take Mill away. The guard untied him from the chair, and dragged him back down the stairs and into the darkness. He was tossed into his cell and the door was again closed behind him.

Mill was, after an unknown amount of time, again woken from a sleep by the sound of the door being opened. A fleeting moment of hope crossed his mind as he thought he might be let free, but it was short-lived. Instead, another prisoner was shoved into his already cramped space.

He backed away to give the prisoner room, seating himself with his back to the wall. He could only see a silhouette of the figure, who squatted on the ground, watching him cautiously, apparently poised in a defensive posture.

Then out of the silhouette’s mouth, a women’s voice emerged, speaking in the Omnian dialect. “You’re not one of the dangerous ones are you?” she asked, “Why’d they put you here?”

“I tried to kill a man,” Mill admitted, replying to her in the Omnian dialect. It’d been so long since he’d used his first language. When the word’s spilled out of him, he was reminded of that wonderful feeling of being to express himself in his natural voice. It was like being able to walk again after having to crawl through a tunnel. The words were sincere and effortless and he liked to say them and hear them spoken.

He smiled to her, though he didn’t know if she could see him. She approached towards him tentatively and he could finally see her face as it was exposed through some dim light that leaked through a slot in the door. She had a stunning face: large, almond eyes, with a round nose and a small mouth that smiled with big red lips.

“I’m Kayla. And you’re from the Omnia too, aren’t you?” she said, “You’re not a murderer are you? I mean you’ve never actually succeeded in killing anyone, have you?”

“No, this is the first time I’ve ever tried it,” he told her, “I didn’t want to have to. And I wasn’t very good at it.”

“Why’d you do it then?” she asked. As she spoke, she began to move herself towards him, kneeling on the ground and scooting herself forward. He could see that she only wore a raggedy shirt and a pair of trousers and as she leaned forward the neck of the shirt hung open enough for him to see down to her chest.

Mill restrained himself from looking. He answered her cagily, “It was for the Omnia. For the good of the Omnia.”

She nodded her head and fell into silence at these words. When she finally spoke, she said, with grave intensity, “If you can kill someone for the Omnia, then you can kill me too. I want you to kill me.”

“Why?” Mill asked, with surprise.

“They’re going to torture me,” she replied, a genuine tremble of fear in her voice, “They’ve got me here because I know things. As you can tell, I’m from the Omnia. I’m here in Waldoon to gather information. Now they’ve caught me, and they want me to tell them everything. They’ve started the torture. Just a little bit. They pushed needles under my fingernails. They burned my skin. I have secrets I’ve held onto, for the Omnia. But the torture only gets worse. They have a machine that stretches out your body until your arms and legs are pulled out of their joints. They have one where you’re hung upside down, and they dip you in water until you almost drown before they pull you out. They’ve got spiked clubs that they’ll beat you with, burning sheets of metal they’ll press against your skin, blades to peel of your skin, and more. I don’t want to ever experience that. I’d be better dead than to live through that.”

<-- Go to Part 80         Go to Part 82 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

The guard picked up the poker examined it and approached Mill, pointing the red, glowing tip at Mill’s face. He applied it to Mill’s neck, and as Mill shouted out with pain, Janake winced, and partly turned away. Mill then screamed, “They're attacking!”

Janake gestured for the guard to stop, and, after the poker was removed, Mill began to sputter out the words: “They’re pushing their borders winterward … expanding their territory … by destroying small Fourth Order villages … quietly … to move into the buffer zone.” He breathed heavily and could still feel the lingering pain of the burn, which he would reached out to touch if his arms weren’t restrained.

Janake frowned when he heard this, not because he didn’t believe it, but because it sounded troubling. “Honesty isn’t too hard, now is it?” he said, the frown still pulling at his mouth, “It’s interesting how torture can really disarm one’s ability to lie. Even just the slightest pain made you more honest.”

After a moment of thought, Janake gestured for the guard to take Mill away. The guard untied him from the chair, and dragged him back down the stairs and into the darkness. He was tossed into his cell and the door was again closed behind him.

Mill was, after an unknown amount of time, again woken from a sleep by the sound of the door being opened. A fleeting moment of hope crossed his mind as he thought he might be let free, but it was short-lived. Instead, another prisoner was shoved into his already cramped space.

He backed away to give the prisoner room, seating himself with his back to the wall. He could only see a silhouette of the figure, who squatted on the ground, watching him cautiously, apparently poised in a defensive posture.

Then out of the silhouette’s mouth, a women’s voice emerged, speaking in the Omnian dialect. “You’re not one of the dangerous ones are you?” she asked, “Why’d they put you here?”

“I tried to kill a man,” Mill admitted, replying to her in the Omnian dialect. It’d been so long since he’d used his first language. When the word’s spilled out of him, he was reminded of that wonderful feeling of being to express himself in his natural voice. It was like being able to walk again after having to crawl through a tunnel. The words were sincere and effortless and he liked to say them and hear them spoken.

He smiled to her, though he didn’t know if she could see him. She approached towards him tentatively and he could finally see her face as it was exposed through some dim light that leaked through a slot in the door. She had a stunning face: large, almond eyes, with a round nose and a small mouth that smiled with big red lips.

“I’m Kayla. And you’re from the Omnia too, aren’t you?” she said, “You’re not a murderer are you? I mean you’ve never actually succeeded in killing anyone, have you?”

“No, this is the first time I’ve ever tried it,” he told her, “I didn’t want to have to. And I wasn’t very good at it.”

“Why’d you do it then?” she asked. As she spoke, she began to move herself towards him, kneeling on the ground and scooting herself forward. He could see that she only wore a raggedy shirt and a pair of trousers and as she leaned forward the neck of the shirt hung open enough for him to see down to her chest.

Mill restrained himself from looking. He answered her cagily, “It was for the Omnia. For the good of the Omnia.”

She nodded her head and fell into silence at these words. When she finally spoke, she said, with grave intensity, “If you can kill someone for the Omnia, then you can kill me too. I want you to kill me.”

“Why?” Mill asked, with surprise.

“They’re going to torture me,” she replied, a genuine tremble of fear in her voice, “They’ve got me here because I know things. As you can tell, I’m from the Omnia. I’m here in Waldoon to gather information. Now they’ve caught me, and they want me to tell them everything. They’ve started the torture. Just a little bit. They pushed needles under my fingernails. They burned my skin. I have secrets I’ve held onto, for the Omnia. But the torture only gets worse. They have a machine that stretches out your body until your arms and legs are pulled out of their joints. They have one where you’re hung upside down, and they dip you in water until you almost drown before they pull you out. They’ve got spiked clubs that they’ll beat you with, burning sheets of metal they’ll press against your skin, blades to peel of your skin, and more. I don’t want to ever experience that. I’d be better dead than to live through that.”

<-- Go to Part 80         Go to Part 82 -->

You can see what's been written so far collected here.

Aresan Clan pt 81