An Archaic Memory (8)

Chapter 8

First Kill

Anya was terrified. Although she had come of age two years ago, she felt like a child as she sat in the dark basement. Around her, others stirred. It had been three days since the monsters had come to feed them. She did not know who they were. But the kidnappers came to feed what remained of their victims every three days.

Anya was one of the survivors. But not for long. Every time the victims were moved to a new location, more disappeared. She saw new faces in the group, but no one spoke. 

Anya had acted the same way in the beginning. Barely speaking or eating. A seemingly silent protest against her captors. Now, after a month, she understood that the kidnappers didn’t care if any of their victims died. The motive behind the mass killings and taking live hostages was something larger. She remembered following the stories of the group before being taken and how Fien had warned her about being more careful getting home from the shop. Fien.

She wondered if he was alright. She had not seen him among the many faces of her fellow victims, and could only hope that he was not taken or killed by the same men that fed her now.

A figure bumped into her in the darkness. The boy was shivering. He seemed about Fien’s age. Her heart skipped a beat. Anya grabbed the boy by his arms and looked pointedly as his face. She breathed a sigh of relief. Not Fien. She let him go.

The boy was called Henry. He was taller than her and extremely skinny. She remembered because she had already verified if it was Fien a week ago. She suspected that Henry had been taken in Alarez, the infamous island where rulers were elected every few years. She had heard one of the captors through her caged wagon door speak Alarean when they had arrived. Since then Anya and the others had been confined in the basement hall. 

Anya made her way to Hyara and the others in the corner. The group had four men and six women all huddled away from the doors. They sat in a circle, whispering. Hyara made room for Anya when she saw her. 

“… move today,” Hyara was saying.

“Yes,” Anya said as she sat down. The group turned to her. Hyara had been with the kidnappers the longest. Most of the group that sat around her were the initial victims when the killings had began.

“I say we make our move in an hour,” Anya continued. 

“They were in here yesterday, so they will not be back today or tomorrow,” Hyara said. Anya had told her about the pattern their captors had followed.

“Plus mistress Anya here was kind enough to listen in and find out that we are in Alarez,” said Rakia, the girl sitting next to Hyara. Rakia had been captured along with Hyara in Cuheg city. 

Anya rolled her eyes at her. Most of them still called her mistress. She had assumed it was because of her outspoken nature but Hyara had told her the real reason. Anya had proposed their escape plan. A plan that had seemed realistic to the group that huddled around her now, and they looked up to her for it. 

There had been other escape attempts before. But none of them had been successful. Anya had laid out the plans to Hyara and her group three days ago. They had agreed on the condition that the captors didn’t move them to a new location on the scheduled feeding day. The day had passed.

Anya had studied the hall’s every bit. It had been part of an ancient barn. The kidnappers always kept the prisoners outside city limits to avoid suspicion of the locals. Fortunately, that would aid in Anya’s planned escape. 

The north wall had collapsed. The fall had pushed the basement wall structure away from the ceiling. Dirt had fallen through the opening. The crack had opened up in the last two days, dirt falling in heaps in the corner. The mound was so high that one could climb it to reach the ground level.

One of the men in her group had been a mine supervisor in the great mines of Zucesh. He had hurt himself in a fall and had hip fracture but he had no trouble supervising others in the digging. On Anya’s signal, six of the group made their way atop the dirt mound. They began scraping at the collapsed in the opening, adding removed dirt to the mound below. 

Hyara, along with Rakia and two other women ushered the other prisoners to the opposite side of the room. It was quick work, no one complained. The victims had been beaten down and were barely alive.

The boy, Henry, had realized what was happening. He actually smiled and ran to Anya.

“You’re leaving!,” he shouted over the noise. 

The opening had caved in further and the dirt fell on it own accord. The men and women scraping with their hands climbed down to the floor in time. More dirt fell and they cheered. Anya smiled in spite of the situation. The chances of surviving the prison break were quite slim. But hope remained. They had an insider who knew Alarean, and had a friend in the city. 

“I have connections. I am on the Alarean council,” Henry said, as he reached her. 

Anya held up a hand to silence him. 

“We are all leaving. I am not leaving anyone behind. Latem has a connection outside of Alarez. There is a large estate. We can blend in with the other servants and contact the authorities.”

“Authorities?,” Henry scoffed. “I am the authority, lady. He got me, there is no going to authorities. I was warned he was coming, yet I failed to protect myself. All my soldiers were killed. Twelve of them.”

“He?”

“The man that took you. He came for me last week.”

Anya stared at him. Was he talking about Orek? Henry had met one of the captors? When they had captured Anya, she had been blindfolded. She didn’t know anyone who had seen one of the captors. Except Henry, who had been picked up last week.

“Who is he? The man who took you?”

“I was warned. Warned by the lanky Cipheagrae. I should have taken him more seriously,” Henry said, dejected.

Cipheagrae? Anya pushed him against the wall with her elbow and the boy cried out.

“Who warned you? I need a name.”

“Ow… you’re crazy, lady. That hurts.”

“Name!,” Anya sneered.

Recognition dawned on the boy’s face as he looked more closely at her. She knew the answer before he said it.

“Oerengale. Fien Oerangale warned me.”

Anya let Henry go. She had been breathing loudly. The boy stood at the wall rubbing his arms. People around the hall were staring in their direction. The digging had stopped. Before she could stop herself, Anya was on her knees.

Fien.

A hundred thoughts rushed through her mind. Fien had followed the trail of the killer. He had made it to Alarez. He had kept up. She grew tense. If the kidnappers knew of her brother following their trail, he would definitely be killed. On the other hand, Fien was in Alarez. She knew he hadn’t moved on because the killers were here. So close yet she felt he was farther away from her than ever. She had hoped that he would lose the trail and give up on chasing after her and her captors. She wanted him to live their old life in Cipheagrae. They only ever had each other. She had worried in the beginning that he would find it hard to give up looking for her. But Fien was almost an adult now, he would have his own life. She would not have him waste his life in the hopes of finding her. Or worse, she would not lead her captors to him. 

“Help me, will you,” she said. Henry looked at her.

“I… of course, miss,” he said. Henry grabbed her arm and helped her stand up.  She waved to the others to continue the work.

“Fien. Is he alive?”

“You know him. You’re related, aren’t you?,” Henry said. He looked at her, recognition dawning on his face. 

“You look so alike, miss.”

Anya sighed. It was true. The Cipheagrae siblings looked a lot alike. In fact, except for Fien’s eyes, which were replaced, the similarities were uncanny. They both had the same pale skin, slender build and height.

She nodded absently. 

“He was arrested. My men took him in,” Henry said. He sounded apologetic. 

“We would have let him leave in peace, but I knew he was planning to stay longer than he let on. I have sources all over Alarez, you see. It seemed easier to imprison him for a few days, and then let him go. Less trouble that way.

“But yes. He is alive,” he added hastily, looking at her.

Anya didn’t say anything. She had already given away a lot from her outburst. Henry now knew that Fien was related to her. And that she cared about him. 

“You will find him in Ragngrad. It’s north-east of here. Almost by the edge of the island. Your assistance in my escape will not be forgotten, miss. I will write the pardon to Captain Jollen myself.”

Anya nodded. Fien would be safe in the prison for the time being. She glanced to either side to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation.

“Thank you,” she said. “Have you told anyone else about Fien warning you?”

“I have not.”

Henry’s reply was too quick. But she had no way of knowing if he was lying. They spent the next few minutes in silence. Anya watched as the group that had climbed the mound worked incessantly at making the opening wider. After a few minutes, cool air drifted through the basement hall. Excited voices whispered around her as the clearing became more apparent. Dirt slid down the opening more urgently. 

A opening large enough for a person to slide through soon opened up. The man at the top called down to Anya, who motioned for him to climb through. There was no time to waste. Anya had expected chaos when others saw the clearing, but no one moved. They had been scared for a long time. Everyone knew, climbing out was not necessarily safer. Their captors were highly skilled men, capable of slaughtering hundreds in their wake. They all looked to her for affirmation. She nodded and they moved.

Anya held Henry back and he sighed. 

“Keep an eye out,” she said. “I will help the injured climb through first.”

He nodded, a little reluctant.

It took a dangerously long time getting everyone out. But Anya persevered. When two-thirds of the captives had made it safely out of their prison, Anya split them into two groups. Latem led the first one while Hyara led the second. She set them on two different courses to the south. They would regroup near the plantation they were headed to, and wait for the final group there. As soon as they set out, Anya paired up the remaining few in the final group – to be led by Rakia. They would be following the first group at a distance. Latem knew the destination well so it made sense to let him lead most of them. 

Anya set the third group moving, before entering the basement again. Henry was helping the last person inside, a woman with a broken ankle. The woman used a stick to balance herself. As the woman paired off with the waiting man in the third group, Anya was left with Henry.

“Your brother will have the pardon soon enough. He will be out by tomorrow,” Henry said. “You have my gratitude.”

Anya made sure they were out of earshot of the departing third group. It was almost dawn, but darkness still reigned. The cool breeze blew against her neck. It wasn’t particularly cold, but the hair on her neck stood out. Adrenaline had pumped through her in the last few hours. Do it now.

The knife was through Henry’s chest before Anya realized she had done it. It was a blur. She did not remember drawing the knife but she knew it was done. The boy stumbled silently. It was strange that he did not cry out. A quick and silent death. She drew the weapon out and slashed his throat.

The eyes. Take them!

Anya ignored the voice and backed away from Henry’s limp body. He seemed to fall in slow motion. The knife dropped from her hands and she kicked it. It disappeared.

“I’m sorry. They can never know about Fien,” she said.

Tears marked her cheeks as they ran down her face. She pulled Henry’s corpse and stuffed it through the opening in the ground. Hands shaking, she covered the opening as best she could.

As she walked away from the opening, Anya had a sly smile on her face. She felt sick. Henry could not have more than thirteen. She had killed a child. A small boy. 

There was a possibility that her captors would eventually hunt each one of their victims. They had been kept alive so long for a reason. There was no way they would let her and the others go unharmed. 

Henry connected her to Fien. If her captors knew about Fien, he would be dead. It had been logical to end him. Fien had been imprisoned by Henry’s men. He was probably safer that way.

Her first kill. It terrified her how easily she had made the decision and executed it. She also felt relief. Fien would be safe. Only thing left to do was leave Alarez and hope that he didn’t follow.

***

Nign looked at the blood on his hands, horrified. The voices in his head were silent today. The last day had been a blur. He remembered was the bar fight two nights ago. No, the last thing he remembered was the birth of his son the day before. He rubbed his eyes.

He had not been home for so long. His wife, Anghi, had left with his children years ago. Nign had been at war most of his life.

Nign had just killed three people. 

The night before flashed in his mind, clearer than Anghi’s face. He barely recalled what her face looked like. The voices had left him and his head spun.

Sounds surrounded him as he stood there, frozen. The morning light brought with it the usual rush of the docks. Sellers set up their stalls, fishermen brought their casting nets with them to their boats, Feli trainers called their pets and the ordinary folk moved among them, bargaining for prices.

Still, Nigh stood there. Looking at the three corpses.

Leave them. Get to the outskirts of Alarez.

He heard the voice again. It was bliss. His mind cleared, all thoughts forgotten. Within minutes he had cleared city limits, and headed straight to Lord Goratan’s mansion.

***

Anya had snuck into the mansion during the early hours of the day. Everyone had made it safely to Goratan’s mansion that stood alone on a hill outside Alarez. Most of them had fallen asleep in the servants’ quarters when she had arrived. A few had waited for her. 

No one had asked her about Henry. The boy had been Alarean, so the consensus was that he had fled to the city guards or his home. None of them had known that Henry had been on the city council. 

Around mid-day, one of Goratan’s men had come to fetch the servants and assign them duties. Anya and the others joined them. Some were assigned field duty, others went to the kitchen. Anya, along with Hayara and Rakia remained behind to clean the servants’ quarters.

“Do you think we are safe here?,” Rakia asked.

Hyara shrugged at her. The woman had a meek build, and wayward dark hair. Her skin had turned pale in the days they had been imprisoned.

“Safe as can be,” Anya said. “We will need to move fast.”

Rakia nodded. “What is the next step?”

The girl was spontaneous. She had followed Anya’s instructions without question while Hyara had questioned her at every step. 

“We cannot leave,” Hyara said, delirious. “We’re safer here. Under disguise we might hope to survive till they leave Alarez. You know they always keep moving.”

No one said it. But their captors had broken their cycle for the first time in Alarez. There was no guarantee of them moving on. If Anya and the others stayed near the city, there was a high probability of them being captured again.

“We don’t know anything,” Anya said. “I will keep moving. This is but a rest stop. Putting a long distance between us and Alarez will take strength. We move as we recover.”

Hyara looked outraged, while Rakia seemed solemn. It was interesting to see one person nod while the other shook her head. 

“You don’t speak for everyone,” Hyara said. “I vote we stay. Go to the Alareans for help. They have an army.”

“I agree with Anya. She has lead us till here. She knows what she is doing.”

Hyara ignored her. Anya knew that Hyara was a lowborn just like most of them, but she had worked as a Noblewoman’s maid for a long time. She had grown into her position as head of a household for a number of years. It would be hard for her to give up control. In a way, it also sparked her critical thinking. In a desperate attempt to seize control, she often thought of alternatives. Although so far, her ideas had been destructive. A few days ago, Anya had stopped her from inciting a rebellion against their captors. It would have gotten all of them killed.

Do it. Kill.

She heard the voice again. At first, she had thought it a figment of her imagination. They had been imprisoned for months in the dark, always moving at night. The captives had been scared. It had taken a while before Anya had mustered up the courage to talk to someone. The first person she had spoken to had been Ella. Ella had been killed the following day by Lasmus, one of their captors. Anya had been so scared that day. She had refused to talk to another person. More captives had been killed as they had progressed North-east. Moving from city to city, country to country.

The captors had always kept only a handful of them alive. At every stop, they captured and killed. Sometimes new captives were brought in, on other occasions, none were left alive. On and on they had continued, with Anya managing to stay alive. Somehow. 

She had started hearing the voice a few days in. She had only ever heard a few words each time. Mostly a command instructing her to kill but sometimes it was a cackling laugh. It was always something that she would never laugh at herself. Like when Rakia had cried. Or when Henry’s guards had attacked.

That last thought tugged at her. These thoughts had been flashes of memory from a different person’s mind. Anya was going mad. The voice in her head had urged her to kill Henry, and she had acted without question. She now realized that it had been her own decision. Henry had to go. For Fien’s safety, it had been the only way. Fien had been her responsibility for a decade. She had raised him when their parents had died. 

“… a matter of opinion. ”

“Stop,” she said. “You may do as you please, Hyara. Stay if you want to but, you don’t speak for the others. We start tonight.”

Anya left them and walked out of the servants’ quarters. She could not stand their bickering. She held her head in her hands, as if holding it still would reduce the pounding she felt. Lord Goratan’s mansion stood in the middle of his fields just to her right. About twenty servants worked the fields, more were behind the mansion. Other servants worked on cleaning the outside of the mansion, and she recognized many of the escaped captives among them. 

Anya jogged up the massive marble staircase, nodding to Latem who sat on a chair at the intersection. Latem had told Lord Goratan about their escape. The lord had seemed impressed with her. He had requested her presence for supper. Although she had decided to leave Alreaz, she felt they could benefit from some of Goratan’s guards. The killers would move on from city, and hopefully not follow her posse. 

She found Goratan at his dining table. He sat alone, despite Latem’s claims of his large family. The richest food lined the edges of the large table, from bread to exotic fruits. There were dishes made of uiel eggs, crab meat, squid legs and various sauces. The smell alone made Anya’s stomach grumble. He had fed the servants a bowl of grulk and some milk. He smiled when he saw her, and welcomed her with open arms.

“My dear Anya,” he said. “Come, join me. You are early. We don’t dine for another hour.”

She wanted to ask him why he sat at the dining table but the answer became apparent as she moved to his end of the enormous room. Ledgers sat in front of the man, next to his bowl of soup. A large quill dipped in ink rested against the container. 

“Forgive me, Lord Goratan,” Anya said. “I am here to discuss another matter. Before Latem and the others arrive.”

“Yes?”

He gestured to a seat to his right and Anya sat down. She cleared her throat

“We are all grateful for your generosity,” she said. “But we must move on. I am sure Latem told you about our captors. It is not safe for us here. Furthermore, you will be in danger because of us.”

“My dear-”

“Please. Let me finish.”

The man nodded for her to continue.

“Some will stay,” Anya said. “Not everyone will follow me. Latem and Hyara will be among the ones who will be here for a time yet. I hope you will continue to grant them protection. Our captors left hundreds dead at every city. You know of their reputation. This is the first chink in their armor that allowed our escape. They will be after blood. They will try to hunt us down.

“Alert the Alarean council. I believe they have already been informed. Take their help, and protect the ones under your care.”

Her voice shook at the end. It had to be said. Lord Goratan’s ego might be hurt but it would be worth it if he sought the council’s help. 

“You mean your brother informed them?,” Goratan said.

Anya froze. Fien. How? Goratan knew. It seemed to Anya that everyone knew about him. And they knew he was her brother. She held her tongue.

“Of course, if you had not killed Henry, he would have alerted the Alareans about your captors. But you gave him a clean death, didn’t you?,” Goratan continued.

“How- ? What- ?,” Anya stuttered. And then she them. The two guards who stood in the corner had barely moved since she had arrived. They were leaning against the wall, their heads slightly bowed. She realized they were dead. The servants had stopped brining the food to the table, and the doors to the dining room had been closed.

“You’re with them. You’re with Orek and the others,” she said, stepping away from the dining table.

Lord Goratan smiled. It was a cruel smile. He made no attempt to move as Anya realized that she was trapped. 

“My dear, I am Orek. I am Zelan. I was… everyone.”

Anya stumbled back, confused and terrified. They had been free for less than a day. And now it was over. This man was one of their captives. She remembered the faces of Orek and Zelan as they had come to feed their captives. This man had a different face.

“It was all me,” he said. He rose from his chair slowly. “But you know that. You remember it. You remember how we captured Henry. You remember how we killed him. You killed him for us. Now, you brought me my captives, unharmed.”

Anya screamed and he laughed. She put all her weight on the locked doors and they wouldn’t budge. His laughter sounded in her head, just like the voice had. And it did again.

Kill. Finish him.

But this time it was different. In front of her was a highly trained killer. One of her captors who had been part of the mass murders in her town. And in every town they had traveled through. Henry had been a helpless little boy who had trusted her. Stabbing him hadn’t scared her, but she had rebelled against the idea at first. This time was different. She was terrified. Another thought clinged to her as she cowered against the doors – she had led everyone straight to the killers. 

Now. Kill. Do it.

She panicked as Goratan stood right in front of her. Her body didn’t respond. She fought against the voice in her head that instructed her to kill him. She could never kill him. 

“We chose you,” Goratan said. “You will lead us. For a time.”

He unsheathed a knife. Anya braced herself for the strike and closed her eyes. It never came. 

“Now we choose you,” Goratan said. His voice had gone hoarse, and it reverberated through her head as a resonance of a hundred different voices. “Kill.”

Anya snatched the knife from his hands easily. Goratan stumbled back, his face devoid of expression. The voice screamed, whether in her head or through the man’s mouth, Anya could not tell. Still, she held the knife at his throat, unmoving.

Lord Goratan turned his head at an angle, staring her down. “Kill,” he said.

“NO!,” Anya found her own voice screaming back through the chaos. But her hand refused to lower the knife.

A spilt second passed. Nothing happened. Then, Goratan walked promptly into the knife.

Blood oozed out of his cut throat as he moved sideways. Anya had finally let go of the weapon, understanding dawning on her like a large fire illuminating every crevice of a dark room.

The power poured into her as its other vessel fell – Goratan. There had always been one captor. The power with no name. She named it instantly as it entered her. Lainefina, short for Nefina. The sound Lai was associated with Terror in her language. Nefina closely translated to many unknowns. A Terror of many unknowns seemed an apt description. 

The power, Nefina, had no discernible shape or size. It vibrated with a combined frequency of every human form it had assumed. And there had been more than a thousand in the last two years. Anya felt her own figure looking at the shadow that represented the power. She was the power itself, consuming another temporary vessel. No sooner had the thought entered her mind, a voice answered her.

We chose you. You are not temporary. You led them and they followed you, even if it was only to their deaths. A manipulator makes for a better leader than a brave soldier.

In her mind’s eye, Anya watched her own silhouette shy against the dark mass in front of her. She had two perspectives at once. On one hand she spoke the words in the deadly voice, and on the other she heard the words in her own mind as Anya, terrified and alone against the power that threatened to take over her mind.

Come Anya. You are not just another vessel for us. We grant you a way to keep your own self. You still know who you are. The others, we burnt through them. They lost their mind in days. We have occupied your mind for quite a while. 

A flash of memories illuminated her mind, temporarily blocking out everything else. The power had started killing in batches as soon as it had a mind. A slumbering killing machine, awoken as the cycle of Heroes had restarted. It had consumed men and women that it called vessels, for a time. Every vessel had burnt out in a few days, forcing Nefina to occupy other empty vessels.

With a jolt, Anya realized that was how the power, Nefina, viewed them. The humans were but a means of staying alive. Staying active during the cycle. Yet, she found that it had killed unnecessarily as it chose a suitable vessel, and kept a contingency of alternative worthy vessels close – the captives. The hundreds of dead left behind had been bad vessels. It viewed them as weaker souls. Souls it had burned through to find a lasting vessel. But the stronger vessels had been a disappointment. Zelan, Orek had lasted a week before going brain dead. 

Nefina had been in Anya’s head since the beginning, she now realized. It had been in everyone of the captives heads. Searching. Looking for a perfect vessel. And it had found one in Anya. The girl from Cuheg city. Nefina continued to whisper in her head.

It has been you for a while. You now see the bigger picture. Hyara and Rakia were only voicing your own concerns. Your thoughts ran through the group. Hyara portrayed the part of you that is afraid, but acts tough. Rakia is the part of you that looks for a way out, for someone else to take charge. Latem is your childhood self, timid and hurt. Do you see now? You were my captive. You alone. The others are nothing. They are our vessels. Your vessels. 

Anya refused to believe it. The truth was in front of her. Nefina showed her their entire journey thorough its own eyes and she felt stupid for not having seen it before. A small part of her, the part that retained Anya’s qualities still fought, but she knew she was part of Nefina now. The power owned her. She owned the power. She was Nefina. And she was Anya. Though that part was fading quickly.

“I’ll just kill myself,” she screamed. A last gamble. “You will have to look for a newer vessel.”

The laughter rang in her head like bells of the citadel before she realized the absurdity of her threat. The being, Nefina, had total control of Anya. She doubted if it would let her harm herself, she saw in the dark veins how long it had looked for her. 

And besides, I have the winning hand. I know of your brother. Fien.

Before she could think or respond, a new memory forced itself to the forefront of her thought process. She saw Orek lead Fien out of Ragngrad, the prison Henry had told her about. Fien had been imprisoned, but she watched in horror as Orek led Fien outside. She screamed for Fien at the top of her voice, but it was a mere memory of Nefina, when it had possessed Orek. The memory showed Fien’s death. Orek had killed him. The last of Anya washed away.

Nefina rose, free at last of the chains that limited her. Free of looking for vessels. She had a permanent body at last. Anya’s thoughts blended into the dark mass, and it changed colors. The girl that resembled Anya’s former look had stopped fighting against the darkness and lay still.

Nefina recognized Anya’s thoughts and picked at them carefully. She needed her intelligence, her manipulative skills. Her survival skills. Emotion was unnecessary and she discarded it. The modified colored mass shaped itself into the girl’s shape. Nefina finally had a shape. 

I will be called Anya, still.

Nefina subsided and Anya emerged forward. She subdued the hundreds of voices that had whispered to her in the last few days and kept her own voice. Finally, she discarded the memory of Fien, except for a particular memory that she was quite fond of. She hid this on the last branch of her infinitely divided memory.

He died because of me. I will remember him.

She said that to herself before blocking the memory completely with a hundred others. She could not feel pain anymore but if there were one thing that would break her, it would be Fien’s memory. For all essential purposes, Anya the girl was dead. But in a real sense, for one important purpose, she remained.

Nefina/Anya entered the girl’s body. Anya rose and walked outside the dining room. Her captives had already killed Lord Goratan’s staff and had imprisoned the servants.

“What’s next?,” Rakia said, on her right.

Anya smiled.