Hello there, I'm just posting this up because I need people to shred it to pieces and tell me what work needs to be done. It's only the beginning/first chapter and I hope that it's good enough because I certainly don't want to be posting anything that isn't even worth a penny. So, here we go .
- Wisp
:A Black Canvas:
She threw her weight against the worn wooden door, thinking perhaps it would give way due to it's poor state but it held fast. She brushed away her greasy black hair from her eyes and leaned back against the door while scanning the dimly lit hallway. She was being held prisoner in this basement until he returned for her, returned for the secrets he very much wanted but that she could not tell him. It was a frustrating paradox due to the fact that she could not talk but he would not believe her. If only she couldn't hear him either, then she would not have to listen to his horrible threats that he so wished to deliver. He would love to torture the words out of her mouth but if she couldn't talk then what words would escape? None. Her hands reached up to feel the knotted wood behind her, it's surface rutted and scarred from pervious prisoner's in these halls and - she could tell - that they had not always had a lenient captor because of the dried blood that splattered the cold, cement floors.
She was in a hopeless situation, one that would likely end her up dead if the ministrator had anything to say about it. He did not want a captive that could not speak among him for useless purposes but the other man, the Slovet prince, would keep her here if it were to his benefit. Again, she tried throwing her weight against the door, only to fall to the ground when it opened. A harsh laugh made her eyes dart upwards into the cruel face of a man, or what had once been a man - now only a monster. She opened her mouth to speak, forgetting her own disability as he looked down at her expectantly. When only a hoarse breath of air escaped her lips she closed her mouth tightly and looked away. A rough hand jerked her by the hair upwards, turning her face with another callused hand to face him. "Now, Slave, you will speak when I ask you questions. I know you're a petty little liar, so I expect some answers." his harsh british accent made him all the more intimidating but she would not answer his questions, for she could not. He would beat her, torture her, until he finally came to accept the truth- that she could not speak.
He shoved her towards another wooden object, this time a chair. Both the back and the arm rests were stained with the color of rusted metal but she didn't dwell much on the fact as she was shoved towards it again. She took three stumbling steps before turning around to face him. He nodded his head, telling her to sit and she didn't complain, knowing it was best to keep her mouth shut even though she didn't have to. The rough wood was prickling her tender skin from where the chains that she'd earlier been locked in had chafed against her wrists. She shifted uncomfortably as the man bent forward to tie the leather straps around her ankles, wrists and neck. The leather was sticky, as though it had freshly spilt blood left on the inside of the straps. She shifted again, the thoughts were making her restless as the man backed away into the darkness near the door of the chamber. "Ah, are you prepared to cooperate?" a booming voice echoed around in the stone built room.
She shuddered, the voice was familiar but with no face to go along with it, she could not tell whom it was. She opened her mouth again, forgetting her disability. It was hard now not to, since many expected her to speak. There was an expectant silence but she closed her mouth again and an audible sigh reached her ears. "Speak!" snarled a voice infront of her, she suspected it to be man with the callused hands. She decided then that she'd call him Rough Hands since she had no other name for him. She shook her head, bowing it in defeat and she heard a rush of movement towards her. It was as though he were wearing armor, the rubbing of metal against metal made her cringe. Rough Hands gripped her hair and tilted her head back, "You pathetic little slave, speak now or I will slice open your arms and let you bleed." he growled, his head bent forward and his mouth near her ear.
She let out another wheeze of air and he took that as a refusal to his words. He unsheathed a knife at his waist, all the while keeping her hair in his large, meaty hands and drew the blade down her arms in quick successions. The pain was intense, she felt tears burn in her eyes as she struggled to hold them back. He smiled at her with wicked delight and was about to draw another wound in her flesh when - in a flash - an arrow was protruding from the warrior's chest. His smile died on his face, a frown of surprise replacing it before he slumped to the floor, his knife slicing into her arm just as it fell from his grasp.
There was silence in the chamber, even the previous voice had gone and she had to wonder if he was dead too. Her head turned at the sound of shuffling footsteps. Her arms neck ached from the leather strap and she flinched when a gloved hand touched her arms. "Are you alright?" asked a quiet murmur to her right. She tried to peer over towards the sound but a gentle hand pushed her head to the left. "Don't move." he breathed, before sliding the coolness of a blade under the leather band and touching her skin. She froze, breathing coming in quick shallow gasps. He was quick and efficient, after having freed her neck, she turned to look at him with wide brown eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you." he reassured her, and she heard the rather loud tearing of fabric before pressure was applied to her nearly numb arms. She realized, as she looked down, that she'd been bleeding for quite a while without taking notice of it. Her heart beat was slowing, quelling the fear she'd felt not a minute earlier and she could feel numbness in her arms but aside from that she believed she was alright.
She raised her eyes to meet his, and she saw the frown of concentration as he removed the bands around her wrists and ankles - trying not to nick her skin. A sigh of gratitude escaped her chapped lips and he looked at her, his face still in shadows. He squinted, "We've got to hurry," he breathed, his voice still strangely loud in the silent room. She nodded, she knew that as much as the next person who'd ever been caught. He placed a hand in hers and then helped her stand, the warm pressure of his hand was comforting, knowing that she hadn't lost all feeling in her body from the fear that invaded it now. In the silence, as they ran from the room and into the deserted hall, she could hear the loud thudding of her footsteps against the cement flooring. It made her cringe every time she took a step, but the darkness here was so thick that she could see nothing but faint outlines of the man infront of her. Then, a soft glow of candle light sliced through the darkness like it had been a ray of sunlight in the shadows, she inhaled sharply and the air whistled down her throat. The man's hand applied a bit of pressure to her hand, a warning.
She was prepared, however and began to lighten her steps, this time hardly daring to breath for fear of being caught by a passing warrior or some other minion of the Slovet Prince's ministry. She ignored the greasy strands of hair that fell into her eyes and instead bowed her head, creating a curtain of black hair infront of her face. It was almost a relief that she'd let her hair grow out to be so long. "This way." hissed the man that dragged her along, his bow and arrows slung across his back. She hurriedly moved her feet to the left, turning into the winding tunnel that would hopefully bring them to the outside. The man had brought himself inside, he should be able to bring you out, a voice in her head told her. She nodded to herself, it made sense but why was the man so urgent and yet restless at the same time? The question was strange, even to herself but she kept to herself.
It was nearly dawn, or so she thought, when they finally passed a door that held the voices of two men and a woman. "You cannot keep her there for long, my sire." the woman's voice, high and trilling said. "Yet I can, dear Sovania. I can." the gruff voice of the man she'd heard earlier in the chamber growled. "Sire, it would not be wise to keep a slave among your midst for long-" he was interrupted when a loud clack sounded and the woman spoke again. "We do not mean to speak against you, sire." she seemed to be holding back tears and she realized that the woman had been slapped. A sharp tug on her arm made her realize that she had paused infront of the doorway and the shuffle of footsteps from behind the door made her turn abruptly and follow the man before her. I'm sorry, she thought and longed to have been able to speak.
"Can you not walk any faster?" the man's voice hissed quietly towards her, and she cringed at how urgent he sounded. Her barefeet slapped against the cement, wet with condensation, and her lungs ached from not having had such excercise in the week that she'd been held here in this malevolent place. Her eyes grew accustomed to the blackness and she continued forth, with renewed speed so as not to slow the man whom had made it his job to help her escape. The air that whistled down her throat made her swing around to see if anyone heard her breathing, but the hall they traveled down was empty. Her right hand reached out to feel the grime covered walls and she shuddered at the touch of mold but did not let go.
This way, if she could not see, she would know which way to turn when it came to that. A sudden sound, of metal on metal made her lose her focus and she slipped, landing on hands and knees on the cold, wet cement. She felt tears prick her eyes, her knees throbbing and her hands scraped from the wall and floor. A rough hand grabbed her at the shoulders and she hissed out a breath and struggled. Her hands clawing for the man's face for she could say nothing to let him leave her here, "Are you trying to get us killed?" snarled the voice near her ear.
At first she didn't recognize it, then all at once she went limp in his grasp with relief. She shook her head, then nodded towards the end of the hallway where a crisp scent of decaying leaves and forest pines wafted from an opening somewhere. "Answer me." he told her, a growl his voice this time, his cobalt eyes looking into her brown ones. She opened her mouth and he looked on expectantly and only did she know she would disapoint him with the sound of wheezing air come from her open lips. He eyed her a moment before turning away, taking her hand and leading them back down the hallway with uncanny precision. She sighed, something tugging at her gut perhaps an ache for forgiveness that she could tell him nothing but who would care that if she could speak what useless words would tumble from her parted lips.
She was, after all, a useless slave that was bound to the Prince as her family was bound to a newborn child that would need caring for. Her family, the memories brought up tears that had not passed her eyes but did now. She felt them slide down her cheeks, and she carefully wiped them away just as they rounded a corner and came to a sudden halt. She was jerked backwards, the man's hand clamped over her mouth as soldiers bustled past them with an urgency that seemed infectuous. She was pushed away when they were gone, the man now running with her towards the door that was opened just down the hall. She let out a whimper of delight as they passed through the door and touched their feet, hers bare, onto the soft, spongy soil of the castle grounds. It was just when they took their fourth running step, that a loud shout of recognition lashed out at her from behind and then the arrows flew towards them.
