25

When a medic was sent to Orion's cell to cleanse the whip lashes and check on his condition, Orion was
staring blankly at the wall. He'd had his eyes open long enough for them to be watering, and the medic
frowned. But still, although somewhat severe, the reaction was to be expected, after what Blackmoor had made
him do. He shrugged indifferently and used the medical scrub brush and the harsh antiseptic to clean the lashes
on Orion's back. He was surprised when the cub did not cry out, indeed hardly moved while he performed the
task. mental shock. He would likely come out of it in a day or so.

It actually took nearly four days for Orion to recover enough for any punishment to make an impact.

Blackmoor had once during this time smacked him hard enough to send him into the wall, and Orion had said
nothing. The scant water he was given had to be forced down his throat; he did not fight, but he didn't cooperate either.

But finally, one morning, a guard came in to check on him to find him curled in the corner, the first time
he had done anything but sit and stare blankly at the wall. Orion was crying quietly, curled into a little ball.

"Hey kid," he said, and Orion made direct eye contact with him. Yes, he was recovering.

"I-I want T-Tamarin b-b-back!"

The guard blinked and turned away from the cell, scowling at himself at the shock of conscience that he
had felt at the child's heartbroken cry.

But Blackmoor was notified, and Orion was given a couple more days to recover, and heal. Blackmoor
wanted him to be able to take his punishment, and to remember it well. Finally, he stood in Orion's cell,
watching the little boy cower away from him. He snorted in derision. "Pathetic," he spat. as if the word itself
were a curse. "Get up."

Orion of course did not, and Blackmoor had to drag him from the little stone cell. That was the last he
would see of it for a long, long while.

The escapee was taken to a place he had never seen before...he had not even known it existed. None of
the slaves talked about it...because most of them did not know about it. Only those who messed up severely ever saw this place, and they were not many. Even Hyder would not be brought here.

Orion shook in fear as he was dragged down to a level of the building below the ground. A cellar...or
more appropriately a dungeon. Those that did know the place called it the pit. The sewer passed through
here, and Orion could smell it. The odor made him want to gag. It was a dirty, damp, dismal, frightening
version of the upper level, with tiny, dirt floor cells and a small chamber for discipline.

It was here that Orion was strapped into an old iron chair, shivering in the cold, and watching
Blackmoor fearfully for what he would do next. But a blindfold was tied roughly over his eyes, making him
yelp in alarm. He felt himself start to panic; the situation was bad enough but not being able to see... He heard
Blackmoor behind him, doing something, and felt heat. He was grateful for it...at first. It took some of the harsh chill out of the air. but when he heard Blackmoor stoking coals, he suddenly knew what was going to happen. He was going to be branded. he even heard the iron being moved around in the coals. "No..." he whispered, but yelped when he was smacked upside the head.

"Quiet," Blackmoor growled. "Did I say you could speak?" Orion shook his head, biting his lip. "Then
don't!" The jackal let the iron heat up, and released one of Orion's arms. The boy tried to fight, but he was
weakened by his ordeal thus far, and could do nothing as Blackmoor raised his hand towards a shackle hanging
form the ceiling It was there for the very purpose he was going to use. He brought it down enough so that it
would reach, and snugged it around Orion's wrist. Then he retrieved the red-hot iron and held Orion's body still.

At Orion's fear protest, he responded with no words, only pressed the brand into the sensitive flesh under his arm.

Orion screamed and tried to jerk away as the brand sank into his skin. It was a largish brand, with
heated spikes in the shape of the Plundaarian letter P. P stood for "potinn", the Plundaarian word for escape, or
escapee, the same one Tamarin had sported on his foot. Blackmoor held Orion still while he held the spiked
brand in his skin, then finally withdrew it. He rubbed some of the hot ash into the wound to ensure scarring,
then let Orion's arm down. He let out a strangled sounding cry as his arm was lowered and the burned skin still
felt as if it was being seared.

Blackmoor casually put away his equipment, and finally forced Orion over to the wall. The child was
beaten with a rod.

After this, Blackmoor left him there for a while, chained to the wall, then returned and beat him again.
he smiled unpleasantly as Orion begged him desperately to stop, but he did not, and moved on to a whip when
he had tired of the rod. "I will not stop, he told the sobbing cub calmly. "I told you that you would pay for
defying me, for fighting, for escaping and making me look bad. I told you that you would pay." And the jackal
continued.

After four days of this, being beaten frequently with a rod, or with the whip, sometimes by Blackmoor
and sometimes by a taskmaster, Orion was taken down. he collapsed to the floor, unable to stand, and was
dragged across the dirt to one of the tiny cells. It was dark, with a solid steel door. And it was small... Orion
cried out as the door shut on him, and crawled to it to start banging...he pounded no the door until his hands
were bleeding, so great was his panic. But the door remained closed and locked, and Orion sank sobbing to the
floor.

After a while, the feeling of suffocation abated a little bit. he was vaguely aware that he had wet himself
at one point or another, and that he had to go to the bathroom again. There was a hole on the dirt that led to the
sewers, and he could smell it. he crept toe two feet or so over to it, whimpering at the pain from the beatings,
and did his business. but here there was nothing to clean himself with. There was only a pile of straw and dirt.
He used some of the straw to do a poor job of it, and had to endure feeling dirty afterwards. not that anyone
could tell, he thought hatefully. The whole place smelled like excrement.

After a long time, Orion curled up carefully on the dirty straw and closed his eyes. He did not sleep so
much as pass out from exhaustion, not a foot away from the hole-toilet.

For the next month, Orion was left in the little cell. He was fed every few days, only enough to keep
him barely alive, and given water somewhat more frequently. But he never got enough of either. Pretty soon,
he stopped eating, figuring it better to starve, than to suffer. This ploy had been discovered, and he beaten
badly for it, and then force fed. He ate his food after that.

Several times, after eating the food given to him, he had become ill, with horrible stomach pains.
Enough to make him cry, the cramps did not stop for a few hours. Poison. The food had been mildly poisoned.
But what choice did he have? If he refused, he starved, and they would not even allow him the release of death.
At irregular intervals, someone would come down there, drag him out of his cell, and beat the living
daylights out of him. Orion never knew when they were coming, and they occurred anywhere from every
twelve hours or so, to every few days. Once a whole week went by, then he was beaten three times in the space
of twenty four hours. Each time, he begged them not to hurt him anymore, but it never did any good. They never stopped. Just kept hitting him until he couldn't stand it...then left him alone. Bones had broken in several places, some cracked, a couple broken obviously. They were not tended.

The torment was not kept to traditional beatings, either. Once he was forced to drink water until his
stomach felt as if it would burst, and he was sick. He'd thrown up several times after that, and felt ill for a day.

He was often dunked, in filthy, stinking water in the fetid dungeon. After one of these, the boy got an ear infection. The medic that came down every few days to make sure Orion would not die on them, had been somewhat concerned over the infection...not because he cared about Orion, but because a deaf slave was of less value than one who could hear. Finally he had given the boy an antiseptic shot and put eardrops in both ears.

It took a long time, especially since Blackmoor didn't stop dunking him just because of that, but the painful infection did clear, with no damage to the inner ear. It only made him miserable.

The cell was cold, and often damp. Condensations formed on the walls, seeping into the dirt, and
chilling the boy to the bone. It was rare that he did not shiver, and he has begged several times for a blanket
Every time he was denied.

Nearing the end of his month in the pit, Blackmoor came in once more. Terrified, as he had done
several times, Orion whimpered and backed up into the corner of the tiny cell. His claustrophobia never
completely loosed its hold on him in this tiny place, but it had eased up a good deal as he became used to his
surroundings. And he would rather stay in it than face Blackmoor again. but the jackal said nothing to him yet,
only dragged him out of cell towards the chamber at the end of the hall.

Orion whimpered and asked that he not be hurt again. Or dunked. But Blackmoor just smacked him
in the face, and shoved him violently backwards. The jackal grabbed the chain between the leg irons, to hoist
Orion's feet into the air. A chain was attached form the ceiling to his ankle chains, and so Orion's shoulders and
head were the only things on the ground. Hie chained hands could not help relieve the pressure. What was Blackmoor going to do?

"Now," Blackmoor said, looking at the gaunt, wretched cub on the ground. "I am going to make sure
that you do not ever try and escape again, Orion. In fact, you won't be able to run at all for a long time."

One of the boy's legs was broken, he could see, and smiled unpleasantly.

Orion was crying. "I-I-I won't...I w-won't...M-m-master...I won't, n-not ever a-a-again...I-I promise, I
promise! P-Please...don't' h-h-hurt me anymore..."

"Quiet!" Blackmoor went to the wall and selected a short bamboo rod. He brought it over to Orion's
suspended feet and struck it, not too hard, not too light. He struck the soles of his feet, where it was sensitive.
Orion cried out and whimpered, not knowing what would happen.

Blackmoor began to rhythmically strike the soles of the boy's feet, not quite hard enough to break the
skin, at least not yet. But as he continued, his blows became harder, and soon Orion's feet were cut and
bleeding. He was crying hysterically, still begging Blackmoor to stop. But he did not until he thought that Orion
had had enough. And he was taken back to his cell.

This happened two more times during Orion's stay, every other day. The final time, Blackmoor hit
hard, splitting the skin of Orion's feet open, making them bleed down into his legs. The young slave was in hysterics,
and had given up pleading. His teeth were clenched, his eyes squeezed shut, his hands balled into fists. He was
only waiting desperately for it to be over.

And finally it was. Blackmoor let Orion down, where he lay sobbing, not moving at all. "Get over
here," Blackmoor commanded, moving to the wall and leaning casually against it. Terrified not to obey, Orion
forced himself to crawl, as he could not stand on his swollen, bleeding feet. "Kneel, wretch." Orion did, crying
out in pain as he did. "Good," Blackmoor growled. he noted that Orion looked down at the ground as he was
supposed to, and knelt even though it caused him pain. He'd learned this lesson well. "What are you?" he demanded.

Orion's stressed mind thought frantically, and finally, he stammered, "A-a-a s-s-slave?" he said,
his voice a hoarse whisper

Blackmoor smacked him. "What are you, you stupid, weak excuse for a slave?! What have you learned
here, brat?"

So that's what he wanted. He wanted Orion to tell him all the nasty things that they'd said about him.
"A-a w-w-worthless wr-wretch," he stammered, tears falling form his eyes."

"That's better. What else?"

This went on for a few minutes, until Orion could think of nothing else that they had ever called him.
His face would have been flaming in shame had it not been so abysmally pale. Finally Blackmoor stopped.
"Good. Stand up, wretch."

Stand...? But..but he couldn't stand! Orion was about to stammer that he couldn't, but imagined
Blackmoor really giving him a reason not to be able to stand, like crippling him, and his bit his lip. Slowly,
the pain apparent in his expression, Orion forced himself to stand on his battered feet. The bones had been cracked, the skin open and bleeding, and he could not put weight on one of his legs. It had been fractured.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, brat," Blackmoor growled as he began to lead Orion upstairs.

Upstairs! Could...could it be over? was Blackmoor letting him go back upstairs? Was he done hurting
him so badly? "Y-y-y-yes...y-yes, M-m-master..." he whispered.

"Good! Then you're not as stupid as I thought, wretch. Hurry up!"

Orion did stagger on his feet as fast as he could, which was not fast. Had Blackmoor not had a strong grip on his arm, he would not have been able to walk at all.

The child was taken to the medical station, where a few slaves lay. The medic on-duty, a vultureman
named Groctis, looked at the little slave as he was brought in. "I want him cleaned up, he smells like shit," the
jackal greeted him. Orion did smell like excrement. not being able to clean himself, living in the filthy
dungeon, he smelled bad. "I want his injuries cleaned, nothing more. No painkillers, no bandages." he looked
at the boy's feet. "Except his feet. I don't want infection." He paused. "And splint his leg so he can walk.

The Reptilian nodded and led Orion gently towards the shower, using his skeleton key to remove the leg
and wrist irons. He did not need them while he stayed there, and the medic was one of the more decent Mutants in the place.

"Allow him some broth and water, and rest for twenty-four hours, then return him to the east cells."

The medic nodded again, and Blackmoor left with a growled threat for Orion to behave.

The terrorized cub had no intentioned of being disobedient. He did exactly as he was told to, and
immediately. The medic helped Orion limp into the little shower in the medical room, leaving the door open. Groctis he knew of Orion's fear. He helped Orion wash up, as the boy was reluctant to wash the injuries, because it hurt. As Orion cried out as his back was scrubbed, the healer said gently, "Shhh, I know it hurts. We're almost done." Orion didn't say a word against him.

Finally Orion was clean, and smelled like clean fur, not the sewer. Groctis helped the young slave onto
the medical bed and told him in a low tone that he had to sanitize the injuries on his feet. Orion only nodded
timidly, clenching his teeth in anticipation. He whimpered as the wounds were cleaned, and the bandages put
on. So exhausted, he was scarcely able to stay awake long enough to drink the broth and water. Finally he
was allowed to sleep, and sank into the deep slumber that only unconsciousness or sheer exhaustion can bring..

The medic covered the shivering cub with a blanket and turned the heater in the room up while he worked.

Chapter 26

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