Young Writers Society

I had a dream one night and woke up inspired to put as much of it on paper as I could. I wrote this in about twenty minutes the same day and am currently toying with the idea of turning it into a novel.

Please let me know what you think? It is a little lengthy so just giving you the heads up. (approx. 3000 words).

cheers

She was undoubtedly dead.

That had been Nicole Samuels’ initial thought upon waking up in the pitch black darkness. Shortly afterwards, once the pain settled into her body in various clawing aches and bruises creeping along her arms, legs, torso and neck, she was able to hear voices both muffled and indistinct. She was not dead and everything only appeared dark since she had a black sac over her head, a fact which she had come to realize only after she’d felt the coarse material scrap against her cheek. First relief washed through her limbs in quivering waves which quickly bled into full blown panic and terror.

She was not dead, instead she was being kidnapped.

The thick beefy shoulder she was heaved over bobbed with each step her assailant took, the frigid cold cut through her thin cotton pajamas and the hiss of the howling winter winds sliced straight through the dense black canvas material covering her face like a serrated blade.

Nicole had been deep in sleep, tossing and turning; she remembered dreaming of grotesquely misshapen, monster men and demons, chasing her through some dark chasm. Their sharp teeth and sharper claws, tearing at her body, cutting into her skin. Fear had forced a scream from her throat, yanking her from sleep into waking where a face had been lurking – hovering above her. A face, fashioned of brass and silver with empty black eyes and motionless lips. She had tried to scream again but hands, so many of them, appeared from the shadows, anchoring down her arms legs, clamping against her mouth, throat and holding down her body.

Then came the darkness.

Now she was somewhere outside her apartment, being carried through the deep snow which had fallen during the afternoons heavy storm.

Oh God, Oh God, oh please God! Nicole’s thoughts were a messy jumble of pleas and hysterical sobbing. She was nothing, nobody, why would someone want to kidnap her? Not all psychopaths need a reason, not all deranged murderers target individuals of wealth or political importance. It’s always the nobody’s who get picked off – because no one will miss them, no will notice, no will care…

With a dull thud Nicole was heaved to the ground like a sac of potatoes. The snow cushioned the worst of the fall from her already battered body, but it was cold and the wet was seeping through her clothes, chilling her right through to the bones. Arms bound behind her back, feet tied by the ankles, she was unable to move, let alone flee, especially with the dark canvas bag still over her head blinding her from her surroundings.

Nicole felt a hand fist the fabric at her chest, her body was pulled forwards and a knife placed at her throat. She sobbed against the gag in her mouth, too scared to move and cried out when the sharp blade cut through something bound around her neck.

A rope, she felt it fall away to her lap, the heavy bound cord weighing against her. The black material was pulled away from her face and for a moment the light of the moon seemed to bright she had to blink several times to clear her vision before the same masked face came into view. She was surrounded by six heavily armored and masked men. They appeared more like statues from the museum come to life dressed in medieval attire reminiscent of a knight prepared to joust in a tournament with heavy slabs of polished metal and worn leather draped over their towering forms. The shortest of them had to be close to six and a half feet tall.

Each mask was the same expressionless face with deep and empty black eyes, thin slit for a mouth and angular groove for the nose. The tallest of them was the one who held her now, face within mere inches, tilted as if examining her with interest as well as disgust.

“Oka’han-a Wah tana’kodis.” He barked in an authoritative tone causing Nicole to jump. She was shaking from both fear and cold. Feet numb, near a shade of blue she trembled uncontrollably. The shortest of the retinue, the leather banded to his amour was shaded a deep forest green, pulled out a small, smooth and round disk from a satchel at his side. In the centre a bright blue stone pulsated in a vibrant hue filled with light. The small silver rings linked together in the disk began to spin, symbols aligning with symbols, he placed it on the cold snow and the light shone upwards in a tall, towering beam that stretched wide. The light grew bright and hot then went dim and faded away.

There, breaking the line of trees in the winter field where they stood was a doorway revealing a field of mud, sky of rain and a sea of putrid water surrounding a vast compound constructed of damp wood off in the distance. Hands were on her once more, Nicole began bucking and kicking, somehow understanding that these were no ordinary men and what was happening to her was no ordinary kidnapping. She fought like a crazed cat, striking with her bound hands and feet but to no avail.

“Ni’his-anas!” One of them bellowed in a deep guttural tone; the back of a metal plated hand cracked against her cheek stunning Nicole into submission. Head swimming with scattered images and pain, she watched helpless as the bright orb of a full moon and glistening white snow of home was swallowed up by the wall of light which sealed shut behind them.

*****

The splatter of cold water and strong winds abruptly pulled her back from the escape that only unconsciousness could provide. The sky was a heavy curtain of torrential rain that beat down in relentless bursts. Blinking through swollen eyes, Nicole began to sob to herself, tucked away in the corner of a large canoe with wicker seats and paddles twice the length of a grown man. Her armored captors rowed laboriously through the murky waters fringed with reeds that broke through the black, inky surface. Each of the stalwart figures alternated each stroke from side to side, pulling the thin sliver of wood closer to the compound that rested on stilts above the rising swell of the open expanse surrounding them as far as she could see.

Only the captor garbed in green did not row. Small in stature but obviously high in his rank, he sat silent and still, eyes fixed on the horizon as they drew closer to what was sure to be her prison. Time stretched onwards and soon they were within the dock. Doors opened and panels were lowered as a bridge. Everything became a blur of movement and sound as forcefully Nicole was yanked to her bare feet, soaked to the bone and shaking from fear and cold, shock setting in deep within her bones. There were so many of them, she realized. A whole colony of seven foot tall, iron clad men bearing armor of a warrior, faces hewn from copper and steel into an emotionless and expressionless mask that was neither male nor female. She was exchanged from hand to hand, led down a narrow corridor, on one side was a wall, on the other nothing but beams and poles to cut through the stretch comprising of fields, paddocks for livestock and shingled huts with smoke billowing from holes in the roof.

With a deft jerk, Nicole was heaved at the feet of her captors who were greeted by more of their iron comrades and these ones all wore blood red cloth over their armor. The rough damp wood scrapped under the skin of her fingertips and palms. The heavy rains had soaked through her garments in a matter of seconds had also turned her skin soft and fleshy. Body shaking from the dampness seeping deep within her belly, Nicole rested her brow against the rough grain of the wood and the hard rope used to bind the beams together while her captors conversed. There were so many voices now; not all of them belonged to the strange men who’d taken her in the middle of the night.

Nicole lay there limply, just where she’d been dropped a moment earlier, unmoving, unresisting. What good had it done her anyway? The cheek where she’d been struck throbbed painfully and stung from the rain telling her the skin had been scratched and cut into from the blow.

There were hushed whispers in unknown dialects, dirty and rain dampened faces pressed against bamboo bars, beady eyes watching her in fascination and curiosity. While the history scholar in her would have once been equally fascinated by her surroundings, she was too entrenched in her own grief and misery to really care at this point.

A steel plated leather boot irritably kicked her in the side, pushing her over almost half a foot from where she had lain, prone and huddled against the panels of wood flooring.

Something inside her broke.

“Wa’jier-ou.” His voice barked out irritably through the thin slit in his mask, the heavy beat of rain washed away most of his words and the few drops of her blood. Nicole turned her face up towards him; her head of reddish brown hair was matted to her in heavy, rain soaked clumps.

There was a pause, and then another and when she made no move, his boot lashed her again in the same spot he’d kicked a moment ago. Nicole cried out, the dull crack of a breaking rib was hard to mistake, even under the pounding of rain against ceramic tiles shingled across the roof of the compound.

“Wa’jier-ou!” His voice thundered loudly in her head which was swimming with so much pain Nicole was certain she’d be sick with it.

“I—I don’t understand.” She sputtered, trying to get to her knees was agony and the trembling limbs made it near impossible, everything hurt. “Please…I don’t understand.”

“Get to your feet.” A soft female voice whispered through the haze clouding everything around her. “Get to your feet, A-ha. You’re to be stripped – don’t fight.” Nicole turned her head, rolling against the wood to see a pair of warm brown eyes in a full and dark face staring out at her between the thick shafts of bamboo.

Unsure how she managed to find the strength, Nicole somehow got to her feet with more difficulty then she ever encountered in all her twenty seven years. A hand of leather and steel clamped against her throat, squeezed tight enough for her to know not to resist but with enough slack for her to breathe. With the sound of steel scrapping through fabric, Nicole felt the sodden material torn away from her shaking body in scraps which they tossed to her feet.

The cotton fabric emblazoned with Christmas reindeer and happy elves was now soaked through, smeared with dirt and her blood, it had once been bright and cheerful and instead it was rather obscene in appearance.

Tears streamed down her cheeks in hot waves of shame and fury. Bruises were already forming on her pale skin in sickly shades of purple and black fringed with yellow and green. The knife cut through her bonds next freeing her shaking limbs. Nicole lifted her hands to cover her bare breasts in a meager attempt to shield her nude form from their stare. Humiliation clawed savagely at her insides.

She was trembling so hard from shame and cold, Nicole was surprised the whole compound wasn’t vibrating. The corridor where she stood was open to the elements, long and narrow with long strips of confined cells fashioned of wood and bamboo shafts paneling as far as she could see. The retinue of iron men surrounded her, all dressed in the same amour and masks except for the two who had been posted in the corridor when she’d been dragged in like an animal behind their heels. These two carried weapons consisting of long sweeping and curved swords strapped to their hips with black leather bound hilts twice the length of a mans hand.

“Ya’ti-jou’a, ya’ta!” A bundle was heaved at her feet, Nicole jumped back as if afraid it was going to bite her. The guard took a step forward, arm raised and poised to strike.

“Iy ya’ta!”

“Pick it up!” A voice whispered above the howl of the rain and wind. Nicole obeyed immediately, without questioning and cradled the thick swath of bound cloth to her freezing and battered body. The other corridor guard at her back, wearing the bold color of red like his companion, opened a paneled doorway to the quarters and jabbed his armored hand towards the confined area. She needed no harsh words or translation to understand that he wanted her to go inside the cell. Yet again Nicole obeyed and watched helpless as it was bound shut and a heavy drape of animal skin was lowered to block out the waning light, the rain and the guards from sight.

The woman whose face she’d seen behind the bars was at her side and took the bundle in hand. Nicole’s fingers remained locked as if they were fashioned of stone, eyes wide; body shaking.

For a moment the woman merely stood there and held her gaze.

“I won’t hurt you A-ha. You must get dressed. I can help.” Once more she tried to free the bundle from Nicole’s claw like grasp and eventually she was able to pry it away from her with careful and soothing words in a tongue Nicole did not understand but found oddly comforting. The woman dropped to her knees and expertly undid the tight knots and skimmed through the garments. Nicole wrapped her arms around her naked body, shaking violently from cold, for the first time noticing the faces of other men and women who occupied the cell, but none of them looked back at her. None of them seemed to care or observe her at all and if they did, they weren’t interested in her presence for very long.

“Here.” Arms came around Nicole and began wrapping her in dry and warm fabric that felt soft and pleasing against her abused skin. First was a scale type garment and it hung from her neck, over her shoulders, covering her breasts, waist, hips and thighs. “This will keep you dry.” She had explained while continuing to layer on the rest. Next came thin, tight pants colored a muddy brown and concealed her from waist to ankle after which she was fitted with heavy wool swaddling for her feet and then slipped into hard leather boots that came well up to her knees. Overtop Nicole was wrapped in a robe of a dull grey affixed with a thick leather belt binding her from under her breasts to below her waist.

The woman took a step back, assessed her from all sides then nodded in satisfaction.

“There – you are perfect now.” Nicole had taken in the woman who had seemed to be showing her nothing but kindness with equal interest. She couldn’t have been much past her thirties with a head of incredibly long and thinly dreaded hair in varying shades of black, brown, red and even golden blonde, it was bound back and hung well below her impossibly thin waist. Her eyes had been the only thing Nicole had been able to see earlier, they were full and a rich brown, a few shades darker then her skin, oval in shape and framed with thick lashes.

She stood a few inches shorter then Nicole but seemed so much larger, full of life and energy aside from their bleak and miserable surroundings.

“Come now A-ha, you must rest. You are lucky to have been brought here after the day’s toils. You will have time to rest before tomorrow’s labor.” The swaddle of cloth that the clothes had been bound in, she stretched out next to one in similar size and length, sitting down she patted the ground with a soft hand.

“Sleep. You will need your strength on the morrow.” Unsteadily, Nicole lowered her sore body to the hard wooden floor which the swatch of wool did nothing to disguise. Bending her knees, she felt the stiffening joints scream in protest, her back ached with discomfort when the hard round curves of the bamboo pressed into her, but she would not give in to her exhaustion, not yet. Now she needed answers.

“Where are we?” Nicole’s voice sounded foreign even to her own ears, the words slurred heavily from the swollen welt on her cheek that cut into her lower lip. She felt the sting of the skin splitting and the saltiness of fresh blood on her tongue. Beyond the flap of leather, the steady drum of rain pounding against the wood, stone, steel and clay could only be heard.

The woman lifted herself from her sleeping pallet and scuttled closer to Nicole, full brown eyes sweeping around them both conspiratorially.

“You speak the tongue of the Angle'oore’s the basic and universal language spread throughout the galaxies – yet you do not know of this place?” Nicole felt her heart pitch into her neck, beating a rapid tattoo against her throat, the sensation throbbing in her already jarred mind.

The woman eased her head into a slow and steady nod, as if understanding a truth spoken through Nicole’s silence.

“You’re from the Nhar-wal galaxy, a separate dimension that runs parallel to its three sisters.” With a wave of her hand, she swept through the air as if representing the vast distances of infinite space stretching throughout infinity.

“We, all of the slaves here in Sa’Taris, are from other worlds – other dimensions and galaxies; spread throughout all that is known and unknown. Taken from our homes and planets, plucked away, we were brought here, stripped of our clothes, our rights…even our names. They have yet to give you yours A-ha, but that will come tomorrow. Tonight you at least still have that…” A chill began to creep up Nicole’s spine, and it was not from the cold as the garments she now wore managed to ward off most of the damp and the chill from the heavy torrent outside and that which hung in the air as well.

“Sa’Taris – you said we are in a place called Sa’Taris.” Nicole struggled to make sense of everything, to keep her thoughts coherent and logical. Knowledge was power, so she would need to uncover all there was to know about this hostile environment.

“Yes, A-ha. It is a dead planet, the only life that resides here is the life stolen from other worlds. This is the home of a race known as the Sh’Hi’Tumen.” At this Nicole buried her face in her hands and with frozen fingers she rubbed at her abused features.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She groaned inwardly. “I’ve been kidnapped by an alien race known as Shit Men?” The exotic woman’s features only registered confusion and misunderstanding.

“No…Shh-Hi-Too-Men.” She repeated slower, hoping that by proper enunciation Nicole would be able to understand. “What is left of them is led by their dying Emperor, we do not know his name and those of us who do, as slaves, are not permitted to speak it for fear of punishment. Once, his domain stretched beyond a thousand worlds, spreading throughout the four dimensions, vast and endless he swept across the worlds and consumed them whole like a plague and the ones he couldn’t conquer – he destroyed. Then it was said he became ill and retreated back to Sa’Taris. Overtime his empire crumbled and fell to ruin. Now he seeks for a way to cheat death.”

“A’ha!” A stern male voice spat from the shadows. “Meda’loi, maha-nibet!” Even though Nicole could not understand what had been said, she could tell by her companion’s irritated expression that it had not been kind.

“We must not speak any more of this tonight. Tomorrow, now rest.” Nicole only obeyed since she knew pressing for more information was not going to be of much use at this point since the woman was already on her back, arms wrapped around her body for added warmth.

“Please…tell me your name?” Nicole whispered softly, hoping that no one would speak up and chide her for pressing for something as small and harmless as a name.

For a moment there was a long and heavy pause before the woman responded in a voice equally soft, “the name they have given me is A’tasan.”

“No,” Nicole scooted closer; her pale blue eyes met that of the dark skinned beauty. “Tell me your name. The one they took from you.” For a moment the dark brown eyes filled with moisture and her full lips trembled.

“Kydia…my name is Kydia.”

Saying no more, she turned onto her side, back to Nicole; breathed a heavy sigh. Nicole was amazed to see how the loss of a name, something so small – simple, could cause someone such sadness. It was more then a name, she chided herself. It’s an identity, a vital piece of who you are. Hugging her legs close to her body, ignoring the side splitting pain slicing through her side, she wept bitter and silent tears until the darkness came and swallowed her whole.