Part 3

Bitter Pill

The next day Fenris was able to get up and even struggle into some clothes, though he winced as he did so. It was obvious the markings branded into his skin were still extremely tender. The slaves gathered around him, concerned, but he said nothing to any of them. He only gave Ava the briefest flash of eye contact before casting his gaze back down to the floor. She watched him, moving slowly, painfully, like one had had been in a bad fight. Every muscles seemed to ache.

At breakfast he ate little, but did drink a cup of water with a few herbs in it that the cook gave him. Still Fenris said nothing. Not thanking those who had aided him the night before, nor scolding them for hearing his screams and hiding rather than trying to come to his aid. Instead he seemed lost within himself. Contemplative and distant.

He was called for to bring his master's breakfast, and he did so, though Ava offered to tell the Master he was ill and bring the meal up herself. He waited in silence for the tray to be loaded with food. He watched each item carefully, vigilant for anything that would displease Danarius. Ava was so busy watching Fenris that she didn't keep her usual close track of Hadriana's meal.

Normally, when the pair walked up to the main house with their laden trays they would talk. Or, more specifically, Fenris would ask Ava something in that way of his that always got her talking. This time he was utterly silent. He moved stiffly, though obviously making an effort not to show it. She walked slower so he would not feel that he needed to keep up with her. "Fenris," she whispered, as though even the volume of her voice could hurt him. He said nothing. His eyes did not lift from the tray. "Fenris, are you alright?" she pressed.

He didn't speak. Didn't look at her. Ava turned her attention back to her own path up the hallway. She could remember her first bad beating. Ten lashes when she was thirteen. She had made it to a pretty substantial age before getting a punishment so severe. She was good at playing the game. At keeping the masters happy. She remembered afterwards a kind fellow slave had seen to her striped back.. She too had fell silent and turned inward. Protective. Like curling around a wound. Being struck in such a way made you introspective, worried, jump at shadows. That feeling of never being safe again. Never knowing when the next blow would swing down and someone would count "eleven!"

"It's alright, Fenris. You don't have to talk," she said, trying to sound reassuring, but her voice broke at the end.

The days and weeks went by and they found Fenris unchanged. He remained sullen, silent and moody. Though his pain seemed to lesson he still flinched away from anyone's touch and Ava heard him make little gasping sounds when he put on his clothes or armor.

The armor was new. As was the long blade he wore. Danarius seemed to have decided that now, freshly branded as he was, Fenris was to train to become his bodyguard. The elf spent most of his days in the practice yard beside the work yard. Sometimes Ava would peek through a hole in the work yard fence and watch Fenris practice. He was getting alarmingly skilled. It was strange to watch him take on waves of Danarius's guards, hardly breaking a sweat. He seemed determined not to let any of their blows land. He always struck them long before they could get within their reach of him.

On days when it rained, which were growing more frequent as the seasons changed, the guards would be allowed to remain inside, but Fenris would train in the work yard, attacking a dummy he had made out of firewood and old sheets. It was a gnarled thing and took a lot of punishment. When Ava was out doing chores she often looked at it sympathetically.

Still Fenris barely spoke. Even as Ava traveled with him when Hadriana and Danarius went to parties or special events. She found she missed the young man with the wide, wondering eyes that had been so unafraid and friendly. Everyone else was starting to talk about Fenris behind his back. How he thought himself better than them now that he had those markings. How he put on airs. Ava didn't think he believed himself superior, but she had no idea what was going on in that head of his.

"It's a lovely night," she tried as they rode the carriage back to Danarius's house after yet another lavish party.

Fenris no longer sat, but hung on the back of the carriage as though ready to leap off at any moment. She was never certain why he didn't just do so. It seemed he had so little reason to stay. He said nothing in reply to her words, his olive green eyes scanning the cityscape for any sign of trouble.

The carriage reached the house and Ava jumped off, hurrying to Hadriana's side of the carriage to hand her mistress down. Hadriana had spent a frustrating evening. Everyone had been fawning over Danarius and Fenris. Cooing and doting on them, asking how the markings had been achieved. What could Fenris do? Could they try the same ritual with their own slaves? Ava hadn't been near enough to hear any of the answers.

Hadriana was in a bad mood. As she lighted from the carriage she complained loudly, "Ouch! Slave, mind your hands! You pinched!"

"'M sorry My Lady," Ava dipped a hasty bow. She felt Hadriana's hand smack across the back of her head. It wasn't a hard slap, but it served as a warning.

The pair came around the carriage to meet Fenris and Danarius on the other side. Fenris actually looked up, if only for a second, and caught Ava's eye. She was so startled by this that she misstepped and trod right on Hariana's hem.

"You idiot slave!" the woman snarled. She slapped Ava across the face, sending her reeling. Before Ava could recover herself she looked up to see Fenris standing between Hadriana and her. His lyrium markings were aglow. His back was to her, so she could not see his face, but Hadriana was suddenly looking a whole lot less haughty. Ava wished she could speak. Tell Fenris to back down, but she feared she would only make it worse.

"Ah now, my little wolf," Danarius soothed, as though he were not faced with something as deadly as a coiled adder. Fenris could have slaughtered both magisters before either had the chance to reach for magic. Ava knew it with certainty as she straightened, tense and watchful, her hand to her jaw where she knew a welt would form. "Be still, Fenris," Danarius ordered.

At first it did not look as though Fenris planned to obey. He was still as taught as a coiled spring. Hadriana had managed to go from shocked and afraid to annoyed once more. She had too had straightened, lifted her chin and managed a dominant pout. There was a glint in her eye that Ava knew well. This was far from the end of the situation.

"Fenris. Come inside," Danarius turned his back on his deadly slave and began to walk towards the door.

To Ava's surprise Fenris did as he was bidden. He slipped so easily back into the posture of the cowed slave that Ava felt a little jealous. She was good at that, but somehow he was better. Still her mind was caught on the image of him, glowing white-hot in the sultry evening, leaping to defend her. She wished he wouldn't because it only got Hadriana more upset, but there was little Ava could do any more. What was done was done.

After dinner Ava fixed Hadriana's hair up for the night, arranging each strand with practiced ease. Her mistress's hair was straight, uncomplicated. Ava was secretly glad the woman did not have curls. She removed the last hair pin, setting them gingerly aside on the night stand. The door behind them opened and she didn't look up. She knew it would be Able, come to put Hadriana in a better mood. The magister apprentice was still spiky, but she had not not struck Ava again. Instead she gave her slave little smirks which Ava knew meant that her mistress was plotting some new punishment to come.

Perhaps sticking Ava's hands into a bowl of water and then freezing it. Or sending little currents of electricity across the floor to sting Ava wherever she stepped. She had learned from years of experience never to underestimate the wicked powers of Hadriana's mind.

Hadriana turned around suddenly, before Ava was finished with her hair. "Mistress?" Ava asked timidly, backing away, her eyes cast down. Had she accidentally pulled a hair?

"Ah, excellent, so glad Danarius could spare you, Fenris." Hadriana purred.

Ava couldn't help it, she looked up. There he was, standing by the door in a loose tunic and leggings looking stoic and unconcerned. Certainly he had to know why he had been summoned to the Mistress's chamber. Ava fought down her words. She would say nothing. Betray nothing. Seeing him standing there twisted something inside her like a dagger in her gut. Like some of Hadriana's ice lashing her skin. Why had she ever thought that her friend might be spared this last humiliation?

Her mistress must have sensed something, or perhaps she merely assumed. "Ah, Ava, look who has come. Your little friend." She crossed the room and draped herself over Fenris. His wince when she did so was small, but Ava caught it. The magister did not notice or heed. She tugged the open tunic collar lower, revealing Fenris's chiseled chest, scarred with white lyrium brands. She traced her fingers along a brand and Fenris noticeably shivered. This seemed to delight Hadriana. She turned her gaze back to Ava, true evil shining in her eyes. "What's the matter, sweet? Are you jealous?"

Ava would not have described what she was feeling as jealousy. Oh no. It was revulsion. Like bile building at the back of her throat. Seeing Fenris in her mistress's chamber was so utterly disgusting to her. He was still silent, his face stoney and his gaze distant. He knew what awaited him. Ava swallowed hard because it was that, or vomit. "No my lady," she said in a whisper.

"Oh, come now. I see you looking at Fenris all the time. I've warned you about your eyes, Ava. Foolish girl. Did you think he'd want you? Slip of a thing all covered in ugly scars?"

"Shall I go, Mistress?" Ava asked, forcing her own face to be impassive. A lifetime of practice was the only thing that kept her together.

"In a hurry are we?" Hariana asked.

"You don't like me to watch, Mistress."

"Hmmm," Hadriana pursed her lips still running her fingers languidly over Fenris' chest. "Very well."

Ava had to moved awkwardly past Fenris as she tried for the door. She did her best not to look at him. She didn't want to have the image of him in her head, waiting for whatever their cruel mistress had in store. Used again, like an old rag, before being discarded. Once outside of Hadriana's room Ava ran back down to the kitchens and the compound, fiercely thinking about anything else.

She waited up. She knew this was stupid, but she did. Able chatted with her for a while as they nursed warm tea in the chipped, clay mugs the slaves were allowed to use. "She won't make him stay," Able assured Ava kindly. "She get all funny afterwards and doesn't want you touching her. Like she remembers you're a filthy slave and an elf. She'll let him come down when she's had her fun."

By the time Fenris entered the kitchen even the cook had gone to bed.

His head was down, his shoulders slumped and he looked asleep on his feet. His markings glowed faintly. His shirt was gone and Ava could trace every harsh line down his abdomen. She stood, uncertain how to best offer her sympathy. "Fenris-"

He walked past her without a word and retreated to his little room. She watched him go, a silent feeling of despair crawling through her. This was his life. Her life. All of their lives. She had been sold to these magisters at a young age. Had been selected by Hadriana as her personal slave when the woman had become Danarius's apprentice. She had learned how to be, how to stand and act as though she were of no value at all. It was second nature. Don't look up. Don't touch anything unless you have to. Don't speak a word. She'd seen slaves come and go. Those who couldn't learn were sold, or worse.

"I've seen slave markets," Ava said to Fenris's retreating back. To her surprise he stopped, turning his head slightly, looking at her with one eye over his hunched shoulder. "When I was little. Magisters prod and poke and look at your teeth. You stand in your small clothes, or naked, and they look at you like you're cattle. Some even use their magic on you to see how you handle it. I thought this was better. Having a master. Knowing the rules. It is better," she reassured herself more than him. "What's the alternative? Death?"

"Freedom." This was the first word she had heard him speak in three days. He turned from her and was folded into the darkness of the slave compound.

Ava watched him go, rendered mute. That word, taboo in her own head...he had uttered it so easily. She had thought he had forgotten their silent vow on the night he had been branded. Perhaps she had made it up. Seen more in his eyes than was truly there. But tonight the word had been firm. Like a decree. Had he been a free man once? Could he remember? She stood slowly, unsteadily, and followed him into the gloom of the compound.

Rain spattered the work yard and Ava cursed under her breath. She used the word "Fen'Harel" even though she wasn't certain what it meant, but at some point it had found its away into her vocabulary. She rushed out into the yard, the rain already growing heavier. The laundry was still on the line. Not the Mistress's best things, of course, but still a bother to have to rewash. She scrambled to tug each piece into the basket she balanced on her hip, already getting soaked.

She swiped the rain out of her eyes with another frustrated sound and looked up as a motion caught her attention. "Fenris?" she asked.

He was across the yard from her, on the other side of the hanging laundry. He wielded a practice blade, which was sized and weighted to mimic the deadly sharp one he wore when he was acting as bodyguard. He looked up at her when she said his name. This surprised her even more than seeing him out there, training in the rain.

He stopped, lowering the practice sword, which was essentially a plank of wood with a handle; and nodded at her in greeting. Hurriedly she turned and stuck her laundry basket into the doorway to the kitchen, where it could remain relatively dry. Then she crossed the yard to Fenris, bare toes squishing in the muck. She noted that he too was not wearing shoes. The markings went all the way down his toes. She winced just to look at them.

She knew she watched her approach out of the corner of his eye, even as he swung the great, unwieldy weapon. She stopped several paced from him, folding her arms and watching. She wasn't certain what had drawn her over. Then he was closer to her than she expected, closing the gap between them with determined steps, his 'sword' dragging behind in his loose grip. His face was nearer to hers than she thought it had ever been, and her breath gave a little hitch. She almost pushed him away, but stopped herself because she didn't understand why she would. He was no magister. Wasn't going to hit her, or force himself on her, was he?

He looked down at her, rain falling from his hair onto her face. His own features where framed in white, like a piece of art. "Er, Fenris," she said after a moment of him standing so close. "Is there...something you wanted?"

"I wanted to talk," he admitted, his voice quiet. He didn't cage her with his arms against the wall, didn't touch her at all. Still, his eyes held her, if willingly.

"About?" she felt her cheeks go hot. The males slaves seldom got this close to her. None of them were interested in her in 'that' way. In general they kept this business to themselves. No use her getting involved, being their pseudo boss and all. Also, they had no way to prevent pregnancies and everyone was careful. Pregnant slaves were often cast out, or killed.

"I can't talk inside. I don't want everyone to hear yet. Out here is better... and the rain... I can't feel my markings in the rain. It's cooler."

"I see," she squeaked embarrassingly. Her own hands remained firmly at her sides. She wasn't certain what she should be doing or feeling. Fenris was her friend, and she had hoped that one day he would come back around to speaking to her, but this was odd. Certainly she recognized that he was handsome, but did she feel this way about him? Standing this close her body didn't ignite with eager fire. There was no lust, no longing, but she still liked it. The proximity of him. The way he curled down over her, like a protective shell. He was even shielding her from the rain a bit.

"I wanted to talk to you about escape."

"Es-" she couldn't even make herself say the word. Her eyes went wide. "Fenris, are you insane? We can't escape! Danarius would hunt us down and kill us. That's if we got out of the house at all! His guards would slaughter any of us."

"Not if I fight them." Fenris said, his eyes boring into hers. His intensity rolled off of him like waves of magic. She could feel it to the ends of her toes. "Danarius is foolish, sloppy. He trains me in combat, and I play the part of the willing, cowed slave, but what he's really doing is building a slave who can defeat him."

"How long...?" she managed to hiss.

"Since these," he held up his hand. The lyruim brand stood out against his skin, even in the dusky dimness of the rainy yard.

"Fenris I-"

"I want you to come with me. I want to get the others out too, but I don't think they'll go. At least not all of them. But you-"

"Me?"

"I know you've been in this life a long time, and you know it, but I see you. Little things you do that will forever mark you as a woman who should be free. Come with me Ava?" he took her hand. His fingers were cold with the rain, as hers were. His eyes were inescapable. Too large with almost the look of a wild animal, though admittedly Ava had not seen many of those in her life.

"I... will think about it," she answered finally.

"And decide which of the others would come with us?" he asked, giving her fingers a little squeeze. She didn't answer and his expression grew more concerned. A line formed between his thick brows. "Ava, tell me you aren't going to turn me in! Tell me I guessed right about you."

"You...you did," she said, and as the words fell from her lips she knew they were true. "But, won't I slow you down?"

"You know this house like the back of your hand. I suspect you've memorized every guard rotation without even realizing. You have everything, every servants' movements, very meal time, down to the second." he hadn't let go of her hand and her fingers were starting to warm, though her nose was beginning to run. She knew it was going red at the tip. "You won't be dead weight. I'll need you."

She thought for a long moment, not looking into his eyes. If she did she knew she would answer yes without hesitation. That was his power. Finally she lifted her gaze back to his. "I'll do it. When?"

"A fortnight, if all goes to plan," he responded, a look of extreme relief washing over him. "Thank you," he said, cupping her jaw for the barest moment before pulling back from her. "I'll have more information to you shortly," he smiled. The first smile she had seen since his skin had been branded. It was like the sun finally shining after a long night. She smiled too, her lips unused to the motion. The scar on her face tightened. He was almost beaming.

The two parted ways, each already plotting their next move. Ava processing the notion that she might one day walk the earth as a free woman. It seemed impossible. What did free women even do? She looked over her shoulder at Fenris. He had gone back to hacking away at the hapless practice dummy, slicing through the rainy air with his 'sword' as easily as he would with the real thing.

The escape was planned, but never carried out. A week before it was to take place Danarius took Fenris and left for parts unknown to the slaves. Some days later the magister returned, but without his bodyguard.