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Sandry's POV:
I don't know when I finally gained back my consciousness. All I could remember was feeling warm and comfortable, piled underneath soft blankets, laying on top of a plush mattress. For a few seconds, I was almost sure that I was back at the Citadel in Emelan, about to wake up to my room overlooking the verandah and gardens. There, I would stretch out of my bedcoverings before strolling over to the windows, glancing out them. From my room, I could see Briar stooped over the flowers, pruning and weeding. I would, of course, chuckle lightly at his figure that was half-emersed in a budding bush before reemerging, twigs stuck in his mop of black hair.
Throwing open my windows, I would let them clash against the stone walls. Briar would look up at me, his eyes squinted against the early morning sun. Leaning my elbows on the window sill, my voice would call out to him mockingly, "Hey there, handsome! I say, is the bush-look quite in fashion for the hair?"
A crooked smile would form on his face. "Ha ha, very funny, Duchess." Then, running a hand through his tangled mass of hair, he would command, "Now that you've woken up, you can help me weed your garden! And then, after that, we can weed, and weed, and weed, and weed. . ."
Rolling my eyes, I would slam my window in his mid-sentence before falling back on my bed. Smiling at my ceiling, I would always find myself giggling sillily, and then suddenly catch myself mid-thought. Then, I would frown before putting on my simple brown wincey dress to help Briar weed the garden, like a sensible friend should do.
But, this time, I didn't wake to my room with Briar working out in the rose garden. This time, when my eyes fluttered open, I felt my breath catch in my throat.
I was surrounded by thick walls of stone, in a room larger than the Citadel's ballroom. In the middle was a dining table, large enough to seat a crowd of twenty. However, around the table, there were large canopy beds, wide enough to fit a family in them. Draping around the bed were silk curtains, transparent and flowing. The bed itself was made of dark mahogany, stained until it was nearly black. And the blankets were thick and velvety, with yellow linen sheets, the kind that rustled every time you moved. I noticed that people were laying in these beds, all woman, oddly silent even for sleep.
And I was laying on one of those beds.
Sitting up quickly, I looked around the room in alert surprise, not quite sure why I was there and where I was. Shoving the rich blanket off, I swung my feet around the bed so that they hung over the edge.
Staring wildly around the room, I glanced at my surroundings. All around me there was stone. The floors were stone, with the exception of a intricately woven rug that was at the foot of every bed. The walls were blank and barren, staring down at me coldly. It was then that I remembered everything; The walls, the loneliness, Earl Heold, Her Gabriella, the holiness.
I ground my teeth in agony.
Sighing darkly, I shook my head, which felt like it had a cloud floating around it. Coherent thoughts were extremely inaccessible at that moment, let alone a plan to escape. Right then, I was having a terrible time with comprehending that I was within the realms of an ancient order which should have scared me to unconsciousness. However, instead of fear chilling my body, a wave of rage coursed through me.
I knew what they would do to Tris, knew every detail of the plan. It had all been written in, "Blaze and Force," and I had read it all. Sucking in a painful gasp of air, I glanced around the room with fiery eyes. From what I could see, there was only one large door to exit and enter the room, and it looked almost exactly like the door in Earl Heold's office. There was no way for me to budge it, and even if I could, I couldn't even begin to know how to save Tris and get myself out of this underground chamber.
Standing up, I stretched my aching limbs. How long had I been
asleep? Shaking my head, I sighed. There was no way to possibly
know. Down underneath the piles of earth above, there was no days
or nights in these dampened tunnels. I knew these tunnels were ancient,
older than documentation could tell. They used to home Her Gabriella,
and the stones and mazes of rock used to be her underground palace.
She wouldn't see the light of day until the twelve years was over, when
she would attend the annual tiend. Other than that, the people did
not deserve to see or live in the same realm as Her Gabriella, born of
goddess
and mortal man. The mortal man who gave his very life at
the paying of the tiend.
"You're up early," a voice stated plainly behind me, startling me out of my thoughts.
I turned quickly, glancing wildly around my shoulder, eyes wild. Standing behind me was a young woman, short and petite, her thick and wild light brown hair covered her pale face. She was barefoot and she held long reed that was stuffed with local spices and tar, somewhat of a lady's pipe, a fashion I had seen all around Nidra Island.
We stood in silence for a few seconds before she spoke. "Name's Phondaya. Folks, when I had 'em, just called me Daya. You can call me that." She took a drag from her reed before blowing out reddish steam, making the whole room smell of burning tar and thyme.
Watching her with alert eyes, I managed hesitantly, "My name is Sandrilene. Folks, when I had them, just called me Sandry. You can call me that."
The young woman raised her eyebrows at me before smirking. "Nice to know ya, kid," then, giving me a once-over, "pretty little thing, ain't shya?"
Hearing her comment, I squirmed impatiently under her stare. Her intense green eyes peered down at me, appraising me slightly. I felt uncomfortable, felt awkward in my own skin. Looking around the room, trying to avoid the woman's weighty stare, I eyed the thick walls, the rich table in the middle, the richly furnished room. Licking my lips, I managed to glance back up at her. "Where exactly are we, Daya?" I picked myself up from my bed before setting foot on the cold stone floor.
Daya eyed me some more before shrugging. "They call it the maiden's quarters, I believe. Don't really matter what they call it though. The matter of the fact is that you've reached your new home." She took another puff of her long reed before she walked measurably over to her bed.
I stood confused at the end of my rich bed before looking around the quarters more thoroughly. The whole room dripped of a dank musty smell, radiating from every corner. Woman in the other beds were starting to stir, making horrible moaning noises as they started to wake. Blinking at the groaning figures, I heard Daya speak again.
"You know, kid, you only get your sanity an hour of the day?"
Snapping my attention over towards her, I scrunched my eyebrows together. "What?"
Daya was now opening a trunk at the end of her bed (she had already extinguished her smoking concoction of tar and spices) and was pulling out various dresses, brightly colored. Taking out a flashy green one, she took off her nightdress before slipping into the green dress. Turning to me, she smiled, "Wanna tie me in the back here, sweetheart?"
Staring blankly at her, I finally registered after a second that she had talked to me. Blinking, I nodded before scuttering over to her. Taking the brightly colored strings in my shaky hands, I pulled them tight so that they snug around her waist. While I was tying the bow in the back, I asked, "What do you mean?" I looked up at her face, "About the sanity?"
Daya looked down at me slowly before sighing. Pulling her long brown hair back into a tight bun in the back of her head, she fastened it with two long wooden sticks. "Sandry," using my name and sighing again, she went onward, "I like you; don't know why, but I do. The reason I'm tellin' ya this is because I think you're probably a good kid. Cute, maybe, I don't know. I ain't doin' this to scare ya."
After I had finished tying the strings in her back, she turned and looked at me, her eyes solemn. Then, her hands on her hips she started, "Well, kid, it goes like this: I'm sure by now, you now what the basic hellish premise of this situation. You've been abducted by Her Gabriella. I'd suggest you get over it. There ain't no escaping it. Now, you'd better know: You are going to be used a breeding product. You'll be popping out those babes faster than you know. Me? I've already got three little ones with their daddy. Little daughter and two sons. Cute little things, they are. . ."
She kept on speaking for awhile, however I simply stood there, staring at her blankly. My thoughts were a thousand of miles away, as unconnected as they were. I thought that maybe this all was a sick dream, things that seemed totally unconnected, happening in a twisted pattern. Reality felt very far away all of a sudden.
How had things started to happen so quickly? Shaking my head, I suddenly felt tears burn on the sides of my eyes. Had life just happened so slowly before now that I had hardly noticed how fast other people lived their lives? Had I been sheltered? Had life been just a game, or had I thought of it as that?
And now, I would never get the chance to figure any of that out. Instead, I would be stuck here, producing children for this ancient cult, a cult that made my stomach turn like sour milk. I would lose Tris, I was sure of that. I knew details of the tiend, more details than even the ordinary noble. The simply fact that I could do nothing to help her either maddened me to no end. I knew that I would never lay eyes on Daja again either. Never to see her smiling face was like ripping a terrible gash in my heart. In hurt more than almost any wound. My uncle would be alone. Pasco would be unwatched, free to return to his former mischievous ways. But, what was more painful than anything was the fact that Briar was not coming. How could he? I was buried underneath a mile of earth, which was pushing on me constantly, above my head. He would never find me. And I would never see him again. I would never see him smile, could never ruffle his hair playfully, would never see his crooked smile, could never feel those strange feelings at the pit of my stomach when he glanced sideways at me, thinking I couldn't see him. Wouldn't feel something warm and wonderfully electric radiate from his fingertips to prickle on her skin when he touched me. . .
A tear suddenly cascaded down my face, as I stared blankly ahead, my mind obviously miles away.
"You're starting to feel it, eh?" A voice suddenly tore through my turmoil, making me blink furiously, my eyes moist and red.
Wiping the tear from my face, I looked up at Daya before lifting a trembling eyebrow. I fumbled with my hair, undoing a single braid before letting my hair completely down. Combing through it with my hand, I asked, "Feeling what?" At that moment, my past turmoil seemed like a foggy memory.
Daya pushed the lid of her chest down before shaking her head. "The Holiness. Feeling desperate?" I looked up at her, my face registering some recognition. The turmoil seemed to flood into my memory suddenly, the feeling of despair. "Yeah," Daya stated plainly, seeing my expression before leaning against her bed, "it happens to all of us, sweetheart. Feeling like the world is either stopped spinning or is spinning to fast. Like the earth above you is coming down on you, squish ya to pieces."
Staring a little curiously at her. "I never heard of this holiness."
"You haven't heard of anything yet, baby." Daya laughed, almost a little sadistically. "I can't really explain it. The first time you feel it, you forget it almost like a dream. But. . . it comes back. Everyday. Drives you to the point of insanity. Poor ol' Berana here -the one laying in the bed closest to you- can't live without the drink twice everyday. Well, most of them can't, now that I think about it. . ."
"The drink?" I interrupted, my voice sounding a bit incredulous.
Daya shrugged. "Her Gabriella comes in everyday to give your drink. Knocks your reasoning out for a day. Helps with the holiness. Like I said, kid, you only get your sanity an hour a day. Better for ya though."
Pursing my lips, I ran my fingers through my hair, deep in thought. Racking my brain, I tried to think of myself as I was in a reasonable situation. I had gotten myself out of tighter terms, surely. With all the adventures that Daja, Tris, Briar and myself had gotten into, surely I could weasel my way out of this one. All I needed was a way out. If I had gotten down here, surely there must be a way out.
Out where there was sunshine, clouds, people talking. Where there wasn't miles of earth piled on your head. Someplace where there was no such thing as tiend paying, things like compassion, happiness, and love existed. Real love.
I felt my eyes tear up again, but I managed to catch myself before a tear could fall down my face. The only thing that I needed was to get rid of this holiness. Gritting my teeth, I knew that I could conquer it. It would take some strength, but I could do it. The second thing I needed was my sanity. This was a problem.
Turning back to Daya, I asked quietly, almost afraid that my voice would carry to the wrong ears, "Does everyone get this drink?"
Daya appraised me with her glittering eyes. "Not everyone. The people under Her Gabriella don't. They're used to the holiness."
I shook my head, hair flying into my face. "No, no. I mean, do all of the maidens take this drink?"
A pause before: "Yes. . ."
"Do you have to? I mean, can you refuse to drink it?"
Regarding me as if I had grown a horn, Daya looked utterly confused. "Refuse? Why would you refuse? You felt the holiness, right? Ain't something that you wish to feel."
Swallowing thickly, I trotted over to my bed, lifted open my own trunk before pulling out a bright blue gown. Lifting out of my nightdress, I put on my gown. Then, looking back at Daya, I said lowly. "What would happen if I refused to take this drink?"
She looked at me strangely before shaking her head. This was obviously too much for her to understand.
Mind churning, I chewed the inside of my cheek thoughtfully. If I refused to take this intoxicating drink, I might be able to find some sort of way to escape. Surely, they let you out of the room; I could chart hallways and find exists. Also, I might avoid getting myself pregnant, producing children to free up their crowded gene pool.
Sure enough, in nearly an hour, when most of the woman were up (there was twenty-one of them-- the only two I could get to say their names other than Daya was a woman named Essa and another younger woman named Garti, the rest were moaning so high in their misery that they wouldn't bother with me. I only cried one more time; I happened to remember one day when Briar and I went swimming on a bright summer day.) Her Gabriella came into the quarters, carrying a jug full of a thick red liquid. I eyed her stealthily as she entered, looking as if she floated across the room. Yet, her eyes, steel and cold, radiated so much evil, it hurt to look at her.
The woman nearly sprinted out of their beds, some crawling towards her. They were moaning like they had been beaten and battered and Her Gabriella was their savior. She simply smiled cruelly at them before asking, her voice soft and buttery, "How has your morning been today, my precious ladies?"
They simply grabbed her robes, mumbling incoherent phrases over and over again. I watch in bitter silence in the back of the group, my eyes sharp and dangerous and my lips pursed. The only other woman who was standing semi erect was Daya, but her eyes looked crazy and her hands were clenched tightly at her sides.
Her Gabriella laughed, the sound floating around the room lazily, before she nodded her head slowly. "Very well. Very well. Come, my beauties, take a sip." The woman clawed at her, a young woman with crazy red hair taking the first drink. Almost instantly, her muscles relaxed considerably, her mouth drew up in an almost drunken smile, and she sighed languidly.
The woman nearly consumed the drink within a few seconds. The only last two people standing was Daya and me. But, after what felt like a few seconds, Daya rushed to Her Gabriella's side, kneeling at her feet and kissing her long, slender and terribly evil fingers.
"Please, Her Gabriella. Spare me a sip. Oh please. . ." Daya stuttered, her voice muffled between her hair and Her Gabriella's fingers.
Staring down at Daya with steely eyes, Her Gabriella nodded before handing Daya the cup. Daya instantly took her full before I saw her relax, her body giving way to a luxurious high.
I stared from Daya to the cup for the longest time. I could feel the holiness come upon me again, feel it pushing into my heart, my very soul. Blinking rapidly, something inside urged me to take a sip. All this would be over. All the holiness would be gone. . .
"Come, Lady Sandrilene," Her Gabriella's honey voice called to me, "take your sip. You will never have another worry, you will never taste the holiness again."
I stared hard at the cup in her hands. Even its glow seemed evil within her hands. "No," I said firmly, still glaring at the cup.
An air of confusion started on her face for a second. Then, however, it faded so that there was only a look of sweet evil. "No?" She asked, her voice almost mocking. "You can hold the bitterness? The holiness?" She came steps closer to me so that I could smell her, incense and holiness radiating off of her. "But, Lady Sandrilene. . . your love is not coming back. Yes, that's right; you'll never see him again. Your friend, Tris, is no more. Daja, is that her name? How will she possibly know to save you? Yes, Lady Sandrilene, there is little choice. You may bear this burden; I will not force it away from you. I only offer you a gift, an escape. Yet, you refuse. Lady Sandrilene. . . won't you get so very tired of being alone?"
Tears edged on my vision. The Holiness was seeping out of her very words, into my body, invading me. I could feel loneliness, feel the separation wrench inside my body.
Yet, there was a part of me that knew that what she spoke was a lie. That the only thing her words would get me was the very things that they offered to let me escape from.
Loneliness.
Shaking me head, I blinked away my tears before saying again, "No."
Her Gabriella regarded me curiously, her eyebrows raised before she nodded. Then, with little more thought, she called to the girls, "Come now, my ladies. Come with me."
We exited our room into a vast corridor of stone. Every other turn we took, the light would fade so that you totally lost your sense of direction. Torches were lighted, but the hallways were so dark that you could barely catch sight of your next step. Every once in awhile, however, I could catch sight of another corridor, men with lighted torches walking down them languidly, as if time had stopped. And it seemed that time had stopped.
To go over the next few days, (How long I was down there is uncertain. I suppose it might have been two or three days, but at the time, it seemed like eternity) would be entirely impossible. Too many volumes of books could be filled to the brim with the men and women I encountered, the conversations I overheard, the utter, total loneliness that consumed me almost everyday.
There were things that I learned though. I had gotten to the point were I could count how many steps would lead to every corridor. 157 steps till the first corridor. 239 until the second. At the second, approximately at the 241 step, someone would exit a room in the second corridor, a light would be seen and the sound of steps heightening up a stairwell could me heard. I figured that this might be the same steps that led up to the world above. To fresh air.
My chores in the Blaze of Gabriella were generally repetitive. First, I would feed the occupants of the Blaze in their giant underground mess hall. Then, I would move with the other woman, who were half-witted, to scrub the same corridor everyday until our hands were red and sore, blisters forming. Then, we would serve lunch, sew linens for the people of the Blaze, and finally serve supper. After supper, the woman who needed more of the drink would be given it and then we'd clean dishes, light torches, be given our dinner (our only meal of the day) and then be sent to bed. We woke up the next day and did the same thing over again.
During my time there, I was offered many a men's bed, offered to be the bearer of children for the most elite of the Blaze. Of course, I refused.
And as much as I hated to admit it, Her Gabriella was right about some things. And one thing was that I got tired of being alone.
At night I would lay in my bed, listening to the labored breaths of the women around me. I knew that Tris was not technically dead yet, if dead is what you call a ceasing of breath and pulse. But I knew that now there was little I could do to save her. She was being broken. And every time I thought of the broken ceremony, I shivered before turning over on my side, tears forming heavily in my eyes.
I would think of happier times. Times when Briar and I would pick blueberries in mid-summer. Of course, Briar would eat more than he would pick and, at the end of the day, would have the bluest lips that I had ever seen.
Laughing, I would mock him. "Wouldn't want to eat to many of those things, Briar; your blood might turn blue. Wouldn't want to turn into a noble would you?" With that, I would flutter my eyelashes at him jokingly.
He would shake his head, look down into his pail, pluck a berry out and chewing on it. "Don't worry about me being mistaken for a noble, yer most duches-ness. If your nose is an indication of what nobles look like, I ain't gonna be mistaken for any noble." With that, he would give me a crooked grin, his green eyes flickering with mischief.
It was then, when we held each others gazes, I felt the tiniest bit of a tickle at the pit of my stomach, but I would suppress it. Friends shouldn't feel tickles. That's what I would tell myself.
Then, with a tear-stained cheeks, I would bury my face into my pillow, cursing and crying myself to sleep.
I believe it might have been my fourth day when I woke up, upset and lonely as usual. Daya talked to me for a bit. She thought she might be pregnant again, and she chipped on about trivial things as I pretended to listen. I figured that maybe today, if I was quiet and discreet enough, I might be able to escape on my hands and knees through the corridor with the sounds of stairwell. I could not wait any longer. Death was not a pleasant option, but I knew I had little choice. It was either death by escape or rotting in the Blaze.
As usual, Her Gabriella came and gave the woman their drink. And, as usual, she would ask me, "Will you drink today, Lady Sandrilene?"
And, as usual, I would stiffly decline.
Then she would nod before leading us out into the corridors. We walked for several minutes, silent escape for Daya telling me, "Isn't the light so beautiful? So pretty, so pretty. . ."
We passed the first corridor. I began counting my steps. 158, 159, 160. . .
My steps echoed off the stone walls. My thoughts were suddenly betraying me. How could I forget Tris? What would I do if I actually get to a stairwell? Wouldn't it be guarded? Shaking my head, I simply concentrated on my steps. 180, 181, 182. . .
Right then, my palms became sweaty. I scrunched my eyebrows together painfully. Only a few more steps now. 210, 211, 212. . .
It was on the 234 step when it happened. We were nearing the second corridor. I was getting ready, slouching like a stealthy cat. And then I heard it. A sound like a hustle down a fleet of stairs, a panic, some voices yelling. Some man scream in agony. I knew that scream. Someone had just died.
Her Gabriella stopped us, but it was too late. We were now looking down the dimly light second corridor. Men were retreating from the steps, rushing towards Her Gabriella, obviously a defensive move. The men surrounded us, grasping us on the shoulders. They were clad in pure white, an army of sorts for the Blaze.
Suddenly, one of the white clothed men fell down the stairs, landing oddly on his neck before lying eerily still. Men were still shouting nosily, but they were coming closer.
Then, as the voices advanced increasingly, I could hear some distinct words. At first, I thought I might be imagining it, the holiness was pressing in on me. But then I heard them again.
It was a young man's voice, rough and guttural: "What have you done Sandry, you dirty son of bitch?!"
Another man's voice stuttered, "I don't know who you talk of. I know no Sandry."
This time it was a woman's voice, oddly familiar: "Oh shut-up, you lying bastard. Tell us where she is and we might not kill you. What about Tris? What have you done with her?!"
The scared man spoke again, "I know no one of who you speak!"
Someone snorted before the sound of fight ensued. Then, two pairs of feet were heard descending the stairs. They suddenly stopped, a muffled conversation was heard until it sounded as if one person was heading upstairs and one down.
For nearly a few seconds, I thought I might be dreaming. I thought I would wake any second and find myself in a dank, dreary room underneath the earth, surrounded by holiness.
But I was not dreaming. For when the person came down the stairs, I had to blink several times before it dawned at me.
Disheveled black hair, always in front of glittering green eyes. . .
The men started to move us away from the attackers. Fortunately, I was able to recognize the man at the bottom of the stairs before he recognized me.
Wrinkled clothes, torn pants at the knee. . .
Just as we were about to round another corridor, I grasped onto a stone wall, so only my head and hands peeked around a corner to stare at the man.
A surprised look on his face, grasphing a long sword in his right hand, a hand with two long green-like plants growing underneath the skin. . .
Then, with tears in my eyes, I screamed at him:
"Briar!"
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La la la la. . . Howdy all. Ah, are you mad at me? I am a terrible updater I know. It's okay though! **Dodges rotten vegetables thrown at her**
Well, life's been busy. That's my excuse. If you don't think it's good enough, you can take a stroll in traffic. Homework, birthday and such are the deal here. Sorry people. I hope you'll forgive me.
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