Chapter 20: Final Days

Seven days.

"You look like shit," Shad commented when Aven arrived for quarry duty the next day.

"You should see yourself," Aven replied.

Shad grinned at the jibe, then shook his head, "Mad they've got us working again after what just happened."

Rani poked the ogre with a chisel in the back of the neck, "Thought they'd give us a break? Not in a hundred years."

"Do they ever give days off?" Aven asked. Apart from the weekly restday on the fifth day, they'd worked every day during his months at Hellfrost. And that was probably because the guards were entitled to join the festivals, not any actual regard for the prisoners.

"Only when weather's too rough to carry on the work," Rani said.

"Last winter they called us back after Ojan froze to death during break," Shad gloomily hacked off a chunk of ice.

Today's labor in the quarries was different. Not lesser, but changed. Enough prisoners had died in the battle that the teams were down to ten, and most were reorganized. Two of Aven's usual chain team were gone, Boss dead and another drafted into the voidspawn teams that day. Only one new member to replace them, a scrawny, shifty-eyed felin beastkin boy who startled at the slightest touch and refused to give a name. Rani had taken over as team leader, a position she relished mostly as excuse to heap curses on them and do less work herself.

Something had changed with the guards as well. Less beatings, fewer jeers. A mix of caution and…dare Aven say respect? Akra at least had greeted Aven with a nod when he'd arrived.

The last change was a less welcome one: oversight. The publicar who accompanied Yvris was observing the quarries, incessantly scribbling notes that book of hers. That meant the chance of finishing work early was gone. Instead, they returned to mundane methods of extracting the blackstone. Chipping, chiseling, breaking up, and hauling rock. Not slacking, but slower, steadier work. A rather pointless exercise, just stretching out the work hours to something that wouldn't cause more work for them.

"The daily production numbers are remarkably consistent," the scribe was saying to Akra, who regarded the smaller woman warily.

"We do our quota every day," Akra said cautiously.

The scribe frowned, "You have a fixed daily amount, then? If you finished work early, then you would…just end work for the day?"

Akra had a face that would have doomed her at cards, "In…theory. Yes."

Right. Theory.

"We don't slack," Akra added quickly.

The scribe blinked and seemed to ponder before realization struck, "Oh, I was not criticizing your work ethic. If the task set for you is to achieve that quota, you have effectively reached that goal. It's the goal itself that I am…questioning. Are there no incentives to produce more than the quota?"

"Incentives?" Akra asked uncomprehendingly.

"Yes, bonuses to pay for exceeding the daily requirements," The publicar's eyes scanned her notes.

"Hells no," Akra scoffed. "We get what we're paid. No more."

The scribe scribbled another note, brow furrowing further. Rather cute the way her face scrunched up, Aven allowed the idle thought. A deep thinker. The world could use more deep thinkers and fewer blusterers, Aven decided – counting himself among the blusterers.

That cute scrunched face scanned the group of workers, "May I interview a few prisoners about the work? I wish to understand their perspectives."

Akra shrugged, "Can't stop you." She noticed Aven staring at them and gestured, " Chain three, halt work." She gestured for a guard to unchain Aven and bring him over. "Aven, get over here."

Akra seemed surprised at the name, looking over in his direction and squinting. It wasn't until Aven was closer that she seemed to recognize him, despite overseeing Yvris' tests and "confessions" several times. An eyesight problem?

"You are Aven nym Arvanius, yes?" the scribe asked.

He bowed, "At your service, ma'am." When Yvris spoke to the scribe, Aven had only heard him call her "scribe" or "publicar". Curious that she'd watched his torture half a dozen times, but they'd never actually been introduced. "Though my title no longer applies. May I have your name?"

The scribe blinked, regarding him with surprise, apparently not expecting politeness, "Publicar Aelia Etrani. A few questions. First, why are you on quarry duty? My understanding was that you were assigned as a voidspawn hunter. Your…skills seem well-suited to that task."

"I work alternating weeks in the quarries and the hunts," Aven replied. "As for why?" He held out his arms as far as the chains would allow. "The designs of those above elude me."

Another frown. Or maybe that was just her natural squint.

"What do you think of the conditions of Hellfrost?" Etrani asked.

Aven laughed, "Ma'am, I'm a prisoner here. My opinion is hardly unbiased."

"Few are," Etrani replied. "That is why it is important to collect information from a variety of sources. Please answer honestly, and without fear of reprisal."

Despite the reassurance, Aven was fairly certain that his honest thoughts of "I can't wait to kill the Head Warden" would, in fact, warrant reprisal.

"Let's see," Aven said. "The weather is terrible, the food only edible due to dear Tanya's heroic efforts, the torture we undergo is inhumane, and we labor and die for an empire that would happily throw our lives away." He grinned, "The company, however, can be quite charming."

Akra snorted, while Etrani paused for only the briefest second in her notes.

"Your candor is appreciated," Etrani said, her face still serious. "A follow-up question. I understand you volunteered to join the mixed group of prisoners and guards to fight the voidspawn alongside Soldier Akra." She glanced to the guard in question, "Is this correct?"

"More or less," Akra said.

"You would not consider it precise?," Etrani said. "What clarification would you add?"

Akra paused, clearly expecting her brush off to have ended the conversation. Her gaze flicked to Aven, then she said, "He didn't volunteer to join the group. He insisted we join him. And at least half the other prisoners wouldn't have gone if he hadn't."

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"That is important detail. Thank you for the clarification," Etrani made another note. "What prompted you to do so? As you said, you believe the empire does not value your life or your work. Why then, did you choose to risk your life?"

The question seemed absurd, "People were dying. Among them, friends."

Some sort of spark lit up in the publicar's eyes, and she wrote with renewed vigor, "Alcion claimed that criminal minds inherently valued self-interest over the common good, that prisoners would be unable to form social bonds or altruistic impulses to the degree that law-abiding citizens do." Aven had a distinct impression that she was no longer actually speaking to him. Or anyone else present, for that matter. "Anecdotal evidence. Insufficient. But combined with the scale of the operation…"

"Er…will that be all the questions?" Aven asked.

Etrani jerked up, eyes widening in surprise and lips tightening. Her face already had been flushed from the cold, and it took on an even deeper hue of red.

"Ah, yes, thank you," the scribe stammered. "No further questions. You may retain to your work."

An odd one, that. How someone so…academic had found their way to Hellfrost was a mystery for the ages.

If their plan succeeded, what would happen to her?

Aven shoved the thought out of his mind. If any misfortune did happen…that was a pity. Far less of a tragedy than what the empire was actively doing to them. The scribe wasn't actively wielding a rod, beating or subjecting them to torture, but nor did she stop it.

When Aven returned to the chain team, he set upon the new task. The riskiest yet.

"Rani," Aven whispered as they dug into rock. "How would you like to cause some trouble?"

The old woman gave Aven an intrigued look. He hoped, at least, that the spark in those eyes was just intrigue.

"What kind of trouble?" her teeth bared in a grin as terrifying as any voidspawn.

* * *

Five days.

Esharah managed to last through the entirety of the public confessionals without vomiting. Even though the thought of the coming struggle made her stomach twist, it also brought a strange sense of…finality. One way or another, this was coming to an end. Every act of torture she felt was another closer to the last.

Ouron was the last brought in front of the crowd of prisoners and brought to his knees by the power of Yvris' Book of Sins.

"Confess what you have done," Yvris commanded.

"I struck an imperial officer," Ouron repeated the deed that had brought him to Hellfrost, the same stony edge in his voice that had been there on the first day.

"That is not the sin I speak of," Yvris smiled, and Esharah nearly retched at the smug satisfaction as he savored the moment, "I speak of abandoning your wife and child."

Ouron froze, muscles stiffening, rage blossoming in his emotions.

"That's a damned lie," Ouron said flatly.

"It's the truth you need to accept," Yvris continued. "In acting for your own precious honor, your foolish pride, you condemned your wife to live as a criminal's widow. What greater abandonment is there? And at such a critical time." He paused to let the words sink in. "You'll be happy to know that the birth was a success. A boy, I understand." He touched the book to send a stab of pain through Ouron, though Esharah felt the words cutting deeper still. "Thanks to your defiance of the empire, you will never see your son. He will grow up no better than a bastard - if he lives at all. A whore's children have little chance of survival."

"Say what you will about me, but you will not speak lies about my wife," Ouron snarled, good arm clenching as if desperate to get Yvris' throat in its grip.

Not yet, Esharah tried to suppress the rising murderous instinct in the man. We'll have our chance soon. His lies will reap their reward. It was like trying to cool a raging forest fire with drops of dew. It wasn't Esharah's vain attempts at comfort but the man's own discipline that managed to hold back.

"Lies? You really think so?" Yvris asked. "There are few ways for an abandoned woman to make a living when abandoned and trying to provide for a child." He chuckled, "And given the 29th legion's proclivities, whores are in great demand in your little town of late." He leaned in close and hissed, "What do you think your wife would say if she could see you? Would she thank you for choosing your precious honor over remaining to care for her? Would your son take pride in being left behind by such a valiant soldier?"

A last touch to the Book of Sins to finish Ouron's torment.

"Clearly you are not yet ready to admit your guilt," Yvris said. "Absolution cannot come without confession. We will continue until you accept the gravity of your sins."

A nod from Yvris, and Esharah led Ouron away. The stone foundation of his emotions remained, but it was no longer still. It rumbled, like the tremors presaging an avalanche.

"One week," Esharah whispered to him, speaking both physically and mentally at once. "Just five more days."

By the time Ouron took his position back among the rest of the prisoners, the tremors had stilled.

But that was no more reassuring than a still volcano. The danger had not passed.

It only grew. Just as all the prisoners' rage did. Esharah only hoped that they could all restrain themselves until the time came.

* * *

Four days.

Back on the voidspawn hunt. A diminished group of both guards and prisoners, only ten of the former and twenty of the latter. They hunted more cautiously as well, their approach slower, taking greater care to check out the voidpits before approaching. The number of voidspawn was equally diminished. Logash had told Aven that on the first day after the horde, most of the voidpits were silent. Now all of the pits had at least a couple spawn, but none of the larger varieties such as the burrowers or speartails.

Erdrak was perhaps the most irritable that Aven had ever seen him, handing out beatings and curses equally at the slightest provocation. He watched Aven like a hawk as well, seeming to wait for the slightest slip-up to use as an excuse. He watched so carefully that Aven had no opportunity to speak with the other prisoners without being overheard.

What Erdrak didn't count on, however, was Vili. Aven couldn't understand the little spirit, but Vili could relay all of his messages to Katrin in whispers too soft for Erdrak or the other guards to hear. In those whispers, Aven got the message to those who would play a role.

Four days. Night of the full moon festival. The message rippled outward, along with the parts each would play.

Katrin caught his gaze as Aven delivered the latest message, and she gave the faintest possible nod, grim determination in her dark eyes. For those like them, the choice was death in chains or a chance at something more.

* * *

Three days.

"More nights on the Eyes," the warden grumbled.

Esharah gave him a sympathetic pat. This warden, Maddox, was relatively new, a man from Northstar reassigned to Hellfrost a few months ago as a punishment. Not for any great misdeeds or corruption, just for simple incompetence. Whether true failures or simple misfortunes, the man seemed to bumble every possible task. The other wardens largely avoided him at this point, as if his misfortune and incompetence were contagious. The latest failure was leaving a blackfang kennel unlocked. Had the caretaker (the rokei ogre boy Jakin, who Esharah had met before) not been there to call the beast off, it would have mauled one of the guards to death. As it was, the guard suffered a nasty bite on the arm, and Maddox suffered a month of extra duties.

"The full moon festival too," Maddox grumbled, words slightly slurred with ale.

"That's sad to hear," Esharah said, giving him a smile, "I heard Tanya was brewing special batch of moon ale."

A groan, "Gods, that's the best." Gloom returned to the hapless warden's mind, and his head hung low, "S'pose it doesn't matter, since I'll be stuck in the tower all night."

"I suppose…we could make a trade," Esharah said. "I'll take that shift for you if you do me a favor."

Maddox jerked upright and blinked, "Really? What kind of favor?"

"I was supposed to help the publicar get some records from the archives this evening," Esharah said. "Just go to her and say that you'll be helping her in my place." She placed a key on the table. "Here's the key. Can you do that?"

Maddox's rather simple mind tried to weigh the balance of extra work that night versus extra work on the night of the full moon festival. Even despite his complaints about the festival, his mind was not bent towards giving up present benefits for future gain. He needed a slight extra nudge.

"You know, I think I heard that Zadrine was wanting to see you at the festival," Esharah said.

Maddox blinked in confusion, rather slow mind taking a while to catch what Esharah had said, "Zadrine? She hates me. Always calls me a worthless worm. Or worse."

"You know what girls are like," Esharah gave a wink. "Ashkari women always play hard to get."

Perhaps the saddest part was that she didn't even need to press hard on his mind to get the poor fool to believe it.

"Really?" Maddox asked eagerly.

"Just a rumor," Esharah said nonchalantly.

Right now, the primary feeling Maddox held for the ashkari was terror. Perhaps it said a great deal about the man that terror transformed so easily into a pathetic, simpering sort of attraction.

"Hells," he chuckled eagerly, and Esharah had to retreat from his mind before the man's imagination could start conjuring hopeful scenarios. "I'll take that trade!"

A position secured. Esharah allowed herself a sigh of relief. Another piece of the puzzle.

Three days left.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *