PART TWO: HELL ASCENDING
Chapter Seven:
Loss
Morning rises as refreshing as settled dew on summer's first berries. I bathe in its radiance, absorbing the sunshine through my open pores and letting it soak into my tumbled-down hair. As I work through the clothing, I feel oddly refreshed; the small business Melisande and I have managed to establish as washer-women has become perhaps our closest thing to a hobby. We do well for it, too- business is always booming, though we know it's more for the chance to look at and talk to women than it is for our services. I drizzle my hands through the worn fabrics, working with the soap to remove any stains, laughing with Melisande as Andri, who is cleaning the wounds of one of Bane's victims, tells us a story from his life before the pit.
"Talia, do not bother uncle Andri," Melisandre scalds her child, as the little girl tries to poke at the bandages Andri is applying to his patient. Talia has grown into a beautiful young child; six years have gone by, and she is more inquisitive than any child I have ever met. She shares her mother's long dark hair and curious round eyes. I only wish she could see the world she wants to know so much about.
Six years stuck in this pit, this chasm of hell; constantly filthy, constantly hungry, constantly just... constant.
Still, we have made a family for ourselves down here, our strange little group. We get by, and compared to most, we live well. Most prisoners do not try to bother us; they know who they'll have to answer to if they do.
Bane lingers in the shadows now. We hardly ever see him, and when we do he is with Barsad, the two having become inseparable. He's developed a distance from us, though it's obvious he still cares.
"Talia!" I say, pulled from my thoughts as the child scurries around Andri's feet as he moves to let the next client into the cell. In a flash she is gone, darting out of her tiny prison and out into the colour of the world; without a thought I'm out after her, chasing after her into the Hofra, drawing every eye as we go. I grab her by the arm and, as I go to pick her up, I feel a hand grab my own. I release Talia for a moment and reach for the silver knife in my pocket, still with me after all this time, not hesitating, just as Bane taught me.
Before I can draw it out, the man who has a hold of me has let me go. This is because a much larger figure has pushed him backwards, and is now squaring him up. Bane blocks him like a bull, shoulders rounded, glaring down upon his face without a word. The man is not fool enough to challenge him, and apologises before scampering off quickly. Bane turns to me, scoops Talia up in his arms and begins to carry her back to the Physicians' cell.
I follow close beside him, thanking him as we go. Talia, for her count, is fascinated by him. When he does come to visit us, she will sit and stare at him, and occasionally asks questions. She wants to touch his scar or his hair or his brace, and he lets her.
"You, rascal, are the cause of all my grieving," Bane says, pinching her nose fondly. She slaps at him playfully with her hands, and he can hardly help but smile.
"How old are you now, little monster?"
"I am six whole years old," she states proudly, "though I will be seven soon."
"Seven," he says with an air of mock bewilderment, "I cannot believe it. You are far too small and scrawny for seven."
She punches him in the arm and he laughs, encouraging her over and over until her little arms are quite tired. There is still a softness to him, no matter how hard he might have become towards me.
I wonder if he knows that I love him.
Knowing our mixed-up little family as she does, Talia's speech is naturally a mingle of English and Arabic, and she changes between the two without a second thought. It can be difficult to keep up with her sometimes, but we've all adapted to her peculiar ways. As we enter the cell she gives up on trying to batter her rescuer, and fights instead to get down.
"Down you go, Rascal," Bane says, and Talia rushes to her mother's arms the moment she gets the chance. Melisande scalds her profusely, to which she almost cries, but being a most erratic child, is back to smiling within minutes.
"Won't you stay for a while?" I ask Bane, noting how he won't meet my eyes. Some afternoons he sits with me for a while, just talking, and I'm grateful for it. We practice the self-defence skills he's taught me, and one time I struck him with such forc that the actually stumbled back; he grinned as I apologised, and told me he was proud of my progress; I, in turn, felt proud of myself because of it.
"I have a fight to prepare for," he tells me, and wishes us all a good morning as he leaves. I follow his eyes to the centre of the pit, where a great, raucous crowd is beginning to assemble. Already they are waiting for their champion.
"Good luck," I call.
He won't be needing it. Bane dove back into competitive fighting again as soon as he left these cells with Barsad. With the smart young man and Carriveau loyal at his side, no one dares to challenge Bane outright, though they will still trifle with him under the pretence of the games; Bane does not lose fights anymore. He takes punches, he bleeds, but he never goes down. He was always muscular, but not he's hard as a rock, and to see him fight is a thing even I have learned to enjoy; it's bewitching, the way he dominates any and all challengers. He fights to remind people why he holds position as the alpha of the prison, and, I think, for fun.
I go back to my work until the tittering out front of the cell becomes too much to ignore; a chanting begins as Bane descends the stairs, shirtless and ready for the fight. I come up to the bars with the others, including young Talia; I don't really think she should be exposed to such violence, but down here this is as vanilla as it gets.
The fight has begins. Bane's challenger is Eheimloch, a giant of a man who he has fought many times. Every time I see Bane come out to fight my stomach sinks a little; not because I'm worried for him, or because he looks unprepared, but because he looks so ready; there is always a flame in his eyes, a fire in his step that rages of how he loves a battle.
"Can I just go a bit outside to watch Uncle Bane?" Talia says hopefully, craning her head a little to try and see.
"Certainly not," Andri says sharply, muttering Budalasha gotze under his breath. He is beside me now, his face against the metal warmed by the strong sun, stubble toughing its curved surface because his face is so close.
"Be patient," he says.
The punches begin, and Talia is confused.
"Have you not seen them fight like that before?" Andri asks her. "The rules are simple. Last man standing wins. They throw punches at each other until the other hits the ground."
the crowd thunders a cry as Bane's opponent takes a hit. The bleeding man then swings once more for Bane, who remains still and doesn't so much as flinch as the fist comes up to his face; when it hits, Bane reels a moment, but it's not enough to put him off. Bane's fist rams into his opponent's jugular and the man is sent thundering to the ground, gasping. He wheezes a laugh and half of the crowd cheer, the other groan and try to sneak away before their failed bets can be collected. Bane receives another cheer as he collects his winnings- what appears to be a bottle of moonshine. He takes a ready swig and tucks it inside the strap of his back brace, which I am glad he is wearing. A small gathering of men around Bane's stature congregate about him- by the looks of it, haggling to fight with him next time a round is set up. He bends down to help his opponent up, who is reeling, congratulating him on fighting well and walking him over towards our cells.
"Here we go again," I mutter, up against the bars.
"Out of the way," Andri proclaims in his usual tone, opening the doors up and letting the pair of them in. Bane has only a small cut to his neck which I see to while Andri patches up his opponent.
"Keep taking hits like that and you'll kill off the last few brain cells you have left," I tease Bane,
"It makes for a good show."
"Still, you should be more careful. I don't want you getting hurt."
"You're not my mother, Anya, please don't mither me."
"On your own head be it," I say, like a defeated mother who knows she cannot prevent her child's antics, and seeks only to lessen the damage of the consequences. "Who is that guy, anyway?"
"Eheimloch."
"He's good."
"I'm better."
"Confidence is a killer," Andri mutters, and sends Bane's opponent on his way. "You already run this place, dod you not? Try not to give people too many opportunities to get the best of you. You wouldn't want your thirst for a fight turning into another war for power."
"It's always a war," Bane says with an element of bitterness.
His attentions are drawn by Talia, who is trying her best to climb up the bars of the prison cell.
"She is so alive," Bane says admiringly. "Look at the little savage go!"
I smile, but with a sadness. "She's a lively child, Bane. You saw how she ran at the first opportunity today; if you hadn't been there, things could have turned ugly. I doubt we can keep her caged much longer."
"We can," he says, "and must. Our little bird must not be allowed to fly."
Melisande is listening, so I lower my tone a little. "What sort of a life is this for her?"
"No sort of life," he admits, with a certain sorrow. "Not for a child. Not for any of us."
"She needs to see a little of the world," I hint at him. "Maybe then she'll realise it's not worth her running to."
He ponders that for a while. "She will learn, in time."
"Time?" I say, dwelling on the simplicity of the word. "Well, we have plenty of that- Don't we?"
Barsad soon comes to call him away on some errand or other, and though I ask him to stay, he tells me he cannot. He returns late that night, though, when all the others are asleep; I let him into the cell and watch in confusion as he wakes the little girl up. I watch fondly as he asks her if she'd like to go outside; she nods furiously, buzzing with the idea of it, and I watch as, encouraging her to be quiet as not to wake the others, he carries her out into the centre of the Hofra and sits cross-legged with her on his lap. They stay out there for a long time and I watch the pair with warmth in my heart as they talk away, about what I cannot hear, pointing up at the stars and the full moon and the black-ink sky as he tells her of a world she cannot know. When he brings Talia back she is almost asleep on his shoulder, and he places her back into bed without any of the others ever knowing she'd been gone.
"Thank you," I whisper to Bane, who is smiling softly, and I pull him into a hug. We have not been this close in months; it feels so good to hold him, and, slowly, to feel his arms come back around me. His face moves into my hair and he inhales deeply. We stay like that for a long while, my head against his shoulder. When he finally leaves, I lock the cell, return to bed, and my dreams are of the stars.
~oO~
Things the next day begin as usual, with washing, caring for Talia and the occasional patron coming to visit Andri. I've become quite skilled myself in medical matters, and Andri has jokingly taken to calling me his nurse. Today it is Carriveau we're treating, who has taken quite a bad punch in one of his fights and who Andri sends to bed with some concoction he tells him will numb the pain and orders to go to bed early.
As evening draws in, there has been no sign of Bane or Barsad today. Melisande and I are scrubbing Talia in the little tin bath we have for her. She complains profusely as I work my fingers through her hair, balming up a herbal soap we've managed to make using dried herbs, oil and a little lye that Andri has had saved for years.
"You have to wash your hair, Talia, if you want it to stay beautiful like Mummys," Melisande tells her in her own language, wiping bubbles from around the child's eyes. "It won't grow so long if you do not look after it."
The thought of this makes Talia lessen her complaining, and soon enough she's dressed in freshly-laundered clothes and ready for bed.
"Time for a story," she demands, and, as always, takes her pick of which of us will be telling the nightly tale. Luckily for Talia, as each of her family are from different parts of the world, she has a plethora of fairytales to choose from; her favourite has always been that of the Little Mermaid. Not because of her beauty (though her eyes do always light up at the idea of having long mermaid hair), or of finding a handsome Prince, but because she loves to hear about the sea. She has never seen oceans, can hardly imagine them, but the idea of such a miraculous thing is fascinating to her. That's the story she's chosen tonight, and after years of telling it to her, our version of the tale has become quite enhanced; she insists on changing aspects each time she hears it; perhaps this time it is not a Prince who she saves, but an old man at sea, and she gives her voice to the Sea-Witch in order to go on land and warn her new friend of some danger or other. Perhaps the Sea-Witch is not a witch at all, but a Princess herself, cursed by the Mermaid's father to a life of toil, and the little Mermaid must rescue her. In tonight's retelling, Talia decides that the little Mermaid has a big kitchen knife and guts the sea witch- eyebrows raise at this, but surrounded with so much violence, we are hardly surprised on the odd occasion that little Talia says something horrifying. Once the story is told and Talia is asleep, Andri declares that he is going out to meet with the apothecary and try to trade some remedy or other for a supply of new bandages. Alone with Bobby, who is already asleep in his chair in the cell joining ours, the two of us finish the last of our work and sit and talk a while.
"Talia will be seven next week," Melisande notes, "I still do not know what we should give her as a gift. I have made her a new dress, and tried to dye it pink with some of that powdered beetroot the cook traded me for, but I worry she will not like it. She is not the most typical of little girls."
"I've a little intel on what Bane is getting for her," I share, smiling at the thought. "He's having the carver make her a hairbrush, with real wooden bristles. She'll like that, don't you think?"
Melisande smiles. "Yes, I think so. She is growing to look just like her mummy."
Yes, I think, it's a good job she's growing with a boisterous fire to match it. During our own training sessions, Bane and I have discussed the idea of teaching Talia to fight when she is ready. I plan to discuss it with Melisande at some point, but now does not seem the right time.
"I think I'll join Talia and go to bed," Melisande yawns. "It is amazing how even having so little to do can tire you. It makes me think of home, and then it makes me horribly sad."
"Sometimes I think it's the thinking that really wears us out," I say. She gives a weary smile, pulls out her own bristly hairbrush, commissioned by the carver years ago, and begins to brush her hair as she does every night; one hundred strokes for perfection, she says.
I've tried that principle with my own, but it just makes it fall out.
There's a clanking at the bars, and I quickly turn my head to see two men stood there. I groan out loud.
It's a regular occurrence, the propositioning. It never happens when Bane is around, and only sometimes when Andri is allowed, but it happens often when it is just us women and the old Doctor in the cell beside. I tell the pair of them to leave us alone before they can even make their offer, and one of them laughs.
"Oh, come on, ladies. Surely you are bored of that big brute by now, eh? There are so many men here who could offer you many things-"
He leans against the bars of the cell, and they creak.
Silence hits the air. I don't know if he realises it before I do, but we both know the truth of it;
the cell is unlocked.
I dart for the bars the moment I realise, just as he begins to push it open; with one forceful thrust he has the cell open, and I'm pushed back by the force of it against the locked door connecting our cell with Bobby's, and in a moment the two men are inside. Melisande begins screaming, drawing in the attentions of all those around; I kick out at the first man as he makes a grab for Melisande, the hands of the other already grabbing for my arm, but I'm too quick for him and manage to slip out my knife before he knows what has hit him. I slash him across both hands and he pulls away with a cry, just long enough for me to wrap one arm around the throat of the man who has Melisande, and I'm about to draw the blade across him, I'm about to kill the bastard, but the moment I try there are more hands on me, and there are more men in the cell, drawn in by the screaming and the commotion, and suddenly there's too many of them and there's little I can do but scream as well.
One of them, I don't know who, hits me in the back of the head and the next thing I know I'm on the ground; they are fighting with me, they are fighting against each other, but the most terrifying thing of all is seeing that pair of tiny legs dart pass.
"Talia!" I scream, as though I am being murdered right that second, as the little girl jumps upon the back of one of the men wrestling with her mother and drives something sharp and silver into his spine. He screams aloud, throwing her off, but before she can get to her feet a man scoops her up; it's all I can do to reach out with my one free hand as I fight against my perpetrators and grab for his leg, clinging on, looking up and seeing that it is Bane. His head is covered but our eyes meet, and that is enough for me to know it is him. I release him and I watch him go, forgetting for half a moment what is happening to me. As soon as realisation returns I begin kicking out at the men again, screaming bloody murder, unable to break myself free; but, my greatest blessing, I don't have to. One of the men fighting with me collapses suddenly on top of my leg, and then another is slumping to the ground, and Bane is there and he pulls me free of the madness, dragging me outside of the cell. Barsad is stood there holding Talia, who is wriggling like a fish and screaming for her mother. Andri is there, too, running from the apothecary's cell and straight into his own, joining the fight within, doing all he can to free Melisande but taking a swift hit and falling amongst the rabble. Bane barks for Barsad to move, and suddenly the four of us are moving as one, Bane dragging me along in a daze and up the stairs towards our old cell. Before I know it Talia and I are flung inside, and Bane is locking the door, and the pair of them are off running back downstairs to rejoin the fray.
I'm hysterical, and so is Talia; the pair of us scream up at the bars, bleeding tears down our faces, screaming for the pair of them, for Melisande, for anyone who can do something. Our screams fill the entire compound, ringing through my head and my entire body, matched only by those of Melisande down below.
"You can't have her!" I actually scream out loud, angry tears cascading through my sobs. Talia is screeching like a wild animal, and suddenly I remember that she is only a child, and I'm doing my best to calm her, even though I'm far from calm myself. Eventually her screams turn to gentle cries against the bars, calling for Bane, calling for her mother, and soon she's too weak to do anything but lie across my lap, my fingers in her still-damp hair.
I sing to her- I try to sing to her. It's broken by sobs and filled with tears, but still I try. Things are quiet down below now, too, and as Talia falls into exhausted sleep Barsad and Bane return, both bloody, both broken.
I put my hands to the pewter bars and look up at them, the last of my hope in my eyes.
"Did you save her?" I ask, as though the alternative is not even a possibility.
Bane shakes his head. Barsad puts a hand to his shoulder and leaves him there; once he's gone, Bane bows his head and cries, thick sobs that shake his huge frame. I call out his name and he slides down the bars until our faces are inches apart, either side of that cell, and through them I bring my hands around his face and hold him there, his tears streaming over me, his eyes not once looking up at me. Eventually, he gains the strength to stand, and he unlocks the cell, being sure to lock it again once he's inside. He picks up the shaken Talia and lies her out on his own bed, taking a seat on the one opposite it. I join him, and we hold each other until the darkness and all the horrors it holds bleed away into morning.
