Chapter 8
Ganlin woke up breathing heavily, his dreams haunting him.
After the wizard expelled him from the temple, the rest of Ganlin’s sleep was dominated by short nightmares that meant nothing to him. Quick flashes of things he struggled to remember upon waking, only capable of remembering the terror that had filled him within each and every one.
He started to get up, but quickly collapsed as pain danced fiercely across his back, making Ganlin groan. Ganlin took a deep breath and collected himself, then he grit his teeth and tried again, being able to push himself up enough to get his knees underneath him and switch to a kneeling position instead as he caught his breath and tried to recover from the pain his movement caused.
The pain from his collision with the tree had become long forgotten, wiped away from his mind by the sharp pains of the new wounds that scored across his back. With a cautious hand he reached forward and touched the top edge of one of the wounds, pulling his hand back with a hiss right after he touched it. His hand came away with a small spot of thickened blood, meaning the wounds would be scabbing up soon enough.
A sharp knock came to the door, and the guards came through a second later as Ganlin was trying to get from his knees to his feet.
“Come on, get a move one.” One of them said as each grabbed him by an arm, manacled him and took him to the courtyard. As they made their way Ganlin was able to get his feet properly beneath him and start walking on his own.
Ganlin was chained in with the other prisoners, and he could hear some of them laughing behind him. Ganlin kept staring forward as the group began moving down.
Walking was unexpectedly easy, as long as he tried to keep his movement entirely in his legs rather than his back, the wounds were not agitated too much.
Ganlin felt something wet on his shoulder, making him recoil as it hit him. He turned his head around to see a prisoner behind him to his left smirking at him. Ganlin looked down towards his shoulder to see spit running down his skin. Ganlin felt his anger rising, but stuffed it down. There was nothing to be done.
They made it to the floor of the quarry, and Ganlin was given his pickaxe and sent off to work on a section of rock along with the other prisoners. Ganlin went over to part of the rock and raised his pick above his head, then almost collapsed as he swung it down into the rock.
The movement of his back from the swing stretched out his wounds, making the pain rear its head like some hideous beast. Ganlin took a moment to catch his breath, then grit his teeth and began his second swing.
The day trundled on slowly, like an old shenjaw that was out of the water. The sun got high, and it was an unusually warm day, causing Ganlin to start sweating. The moisture running into his wounds made them sting, but Ganlin fought the pain as viciously as he could, turning it into energy he could use for striking down at the rocks.
A cold splash landed on Ganlin, right on top of his head.
He turned around to see if someone else had spit at him, but noone was close enough to him to be able to hit him like that. Another spot of wetness landed on him, this time on his shoulder.
Ganlin looked up in bewilderment. Above him was a thin, dark cloud. Another drop of water came from the sky and landed on his forehead. Ganlin stared up at the sky in amazement as more and more drops came down. He had heard tales of such a thing, occurring on the coast of Ank’har. What was it called again?
It didn’t matter. The water felt wonderful to Ganlin, it was a near holy experience as he felt it more drops come down and land on him, rolling down his skin. It was a wondrous sight, a wondrous feeling.
A whip cracked across the stone just next to Ganlin, making him snap his eyes open and turn to the guard who was standing before him, sneering with their whip in hand.
“What’s wrong, foreigner? Never seen some rain before? Get back to work before I make you.”
Rain. It’s called rain.
Ganlin turned back to the rock and continued mining, his spirits lifted by the rain. Ganlin mumbled the word to himself.
“Rain.”
It was a fun word to say, and Ganlin thought it perfectly represented how the rain made him feel. It was a good word, even from the mouth of a sneering guard. Ganlin enjoyed the sound of it. Just thinking about it calmed him somehow, gave him the strength to push through the pain his back was in, and just keep mining.
As the day drew on, the sky got darker, and the drops of rain got heavier. The guards kept the prisoners working as usual though, and Ganlin didn’t mind. The air was getting colder, and Ganlin felt himself shivering, but he didn’t care, he enjoyed the rain too much. Something about it was just so magical. Even the sound it made as it hit the stone was beautiful to Ganlin. Water had always been something precious to him, he was Ank’haran, after all. It’s not like he had never seen water before, the clans always planned their movements around the Osae-lakes so that they could collect any water that they may have needed for the animals.
Still though, something about the rain just felt so… inexplicably precious to Ganlin. That was the only way he could think of it. It was as if his entire life in Ank’har was missing something, and that thing was the rain, falling from the sky.
Eventually, the foreman called for everyone to stop their work, and Ganlin was being chained up with all the other prisoners.
The rain kept falling in fat, steady drops as the guards began leading them up the ramp and back into the prison walls. The ground was slippery from the water, and for once the ascent was slow, the guards not wanting to risk injury by forcing prisoners to move any faster than they already were.
Ganlin kept looking up at the sky, having to throw his head back from time to time to flick his wet hair away from his eyes so he could stare up at the mesmerising sky, darkened by the grey and black clouds that blocked out the sunlight. He savoured the way each drop splashed across his skin.
Then he almost tripped.
There was a foot stuck out in front of him, and Ganlin almost fell over as he just managed to step over it, stumbling forward and almost slipping on the wet rocks as he managed to right himself up again. His movements echoed throughout the procession, putting their movement to a halt as all the prisoners swayed before finding their footing again.
The guards gave the group a collective glare before one of them said “Careful with it.” and everyone got moving again.
Ganlin looked to his right at the prisoner who tried tripping him, but the prisoner kept their eyes straight ahead, not meeting Ganlin’s gaze. His glance at that prisoner almost cost him as the prisoner on the other side of him tried to trip him while he was distracted. Ganlin came even closer to tripping, and the impact on the whole group was even more extreme. None of the prisoners fell, but it took some time for the group to be in a position to keep moving again. The guards sounded agitated as they yelled for the group to keep moving. People were beginning to whisper and look towards Ganlin, all of them knowing that he was the one who fell, but not knowing the reason why.
A few more steps, and another foot. Ganlin was prepared for that one, and stepped over it without issue. He wasn’t, however, expecting the person chained in front of him to stop mid stride, making Ganlin ram into their back. The impact sent them stumbling forward as Ganlin fell back over the opposite direction, his back smashing against the sharp rocks.
As the prisoners fell over into each other, some of them started shouting at and pushing each other, making all the other prisoners even more agitated.
The group fell into pandemonium as prisoners started attacking those that fell into them, guards started attacking prisoners, and some prisoners began trying to break free of their chains while the guards were distracted, eager to make a run for freedom.
Ganlin was yanked back up to his feet as the whole group shifted, and was greeted by a fist swinging towards his face. He ducked out of the way, just avoiding tripping by bouncing off the back of somebody behind him, and shoulder checked the person who swung at him. The two of them almost fell down, but the chains ran out of slack before they could, causing Ganlin to land on top of the other prisoner, both of them suspended above the ground.
Ganlin’s foe began swinging their arms down at Ganlin’s back, making him scream in pain as the metal cuffs bashed into his back wounds.
Ganlin, desperately trying to use what little arm movement he had to punch the enemy in the torso, lunged forward in a frantic move and bit into his enemy’s shoulder. Ganlin heard him scream as the mob of prisoners moved again, pulling Ganlin away and into the chest of someone else entirely. Ganlin slipped and fell over, his movement inhibited by the chains, but before he could hit the ground somebody picked him up and put one of their arms around his neck, trying to choke him.
As Ganlin struggled against the attack by throwing his elbows back into the torso of the brute, another prisoner ran towards Ganlin, their intent to attack clearly written on their face.
Ganlin threw up his leg to kick them away, but forgot that his legs were kept together by the manacles around his ankles. The complete misallocation of his centre of balance made him fall again, taking many of the people around him down with him.
Ganlin was at the bottom of a heap of bodies that were all kicking, grabbing, and punching. Ganlin did what he could to defend himself from the brawl by drawing his legs closer to his chest and pushing away any hostile limbs that came too close to him.
The noise was near unbearable; a constant roaring of voices that was smothered by the press of bodies on Ganlin. There was shouting, screaming, the smack of people hitting each other and of people falling hard against the rocky ground. All Ganlin could do was focus on breathing as he swung out at anyone who was reaching for him, trying to proactively protect himself from any attacks. A stray elbow came back and smacked into Ganlin’s left eye, stunning him. Someone was punching his legs. His back was in an unspeakable amount of pain, and he could feel himself starting to become dizzy, almost as though he had stood in the hot sands of Ank’har without shade or water for too long.
Suddenly, the pressure on his chest was easing. The sounds of the brawl were dying down. The person above Ganlin was suddenly lifted and cold drops of rain landed on Ganlin’s face. People were picking him up, too. He couldn’t put together who, a guard, maybe. As Ganlin was pulled further and further, he realized that his chains had been broken, and the prisoners were disconnected from each other. Ganlin still felt dizzy. Tired, too. It was hard for him to concentrate, to piece together any thoughts that made sense. His head hurt. He was dizzy. He fell asleep.
Ganlin was consumed by pain the very moment he awoke. He was laid down on his back, the tender skin rubbing against the ground. Dirt, he thought. After the pain, he felt raindrops against his skin; it was still raining. How could the sky contain so much water? He cleared the thought from his head and tried to concentrate on his current situation. He opened his eyes to try and get a sense of his surroundings, but his left eye was swollen, making it difficult to see through it. With his right eye he could tell that it was night time, and that he was outside. His limbs were bound together in chains, preventing him from moving anything other than his head. He turned it to look in one direction and saw the main gate of the prison, confirming that he was in Silvirtharn’s front courtyard. Turning his head the other way, Ganlin saw he wasn’t the only one in his position; five other prisoners were chained up on the ground, the six of them forming a line outside the front door to the main building.
Past the prisoners, Ganlin saw a group of guards erecting a tall wooden pole. Ganlin’s heart trembled at the side of it, his dread rising as it was fully put up and some guards came over to the lined up group of prisoners and grabbed the one that was farthest away from Ganlin. The two guards lifted up the prisoner and dragged them over, chaining them to the pole the same way they did with Ganlin. After tying him, the guards stood back and waited, watching the prisoner writhe as they woke up and tried to get out of their bindings.
The prisoner’s cries were silenced when the door to the prison opened and a group of people walked through it into the courtyard. Ganlin recognized three of the six people as the prison’s highest ranking officials; the foreman, the captain of the guard, and the warden. The others Ganlin couldn’t see clearly enough in the darkness to even know if he recognized them. The tallest one of those Ganlin didn’t recognize was holding a small box of something, and they seemed to be taking great care with it; something precious was clearly stored inside. The group was led by the captain of the guard to the main gate, where they stopped and talked for a few more brief moments before the door was opened and the strange half of the group walked out.
The three leaders of Silvirtharn spoke in low, hushed tones as they walked back across the courtyard, the foreman and warden heading inside while the captain of the guard stayed outside.
Once the door to the prison closed, the captain turned and strode towards the pole, stopping a few strides away. A guard walked up to the captain and provided them with a whip. The captain spoke as they worked upon unraveling it.
“After today’s incident in the quarry, each prisoner who had remained conscious was questioned about the event. Many of them pointed to you as having been one of the main aggressors. For your involvement in this, and your attacks against the other prisoners. You shall receive fifteen lashes.”
The ship cracked through the air the second the captain finished their sentence. Ganlin closed his good eye and turned away as the whip struck the prisoner’s back. Ganlin tried to ignore it, attempting to focus on anything else that he could instead; the way the hard ground felt on his back, how much each of wounds hurt, the fact that his left leg was itchy and no matter how he tried to contort his body the chains wouldn’t allow him to reach enough to scratch it. He tried to tune out the sounds of the whip and listen to the rain instead, but that did nothing but make the prisoner’s cries even more noticeable.
Time dragged on slowly, and dread gripped Ganlin’s body tighter and tighter as the guards went down the line and grabbed the prisoner’s for their punishment. The harshness of the punishment became more severe with how involved the prisoners were with what had happened in the quarry. The first prisoner received fifteen lashes, then the number went up to twenty, then twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five. At one point during one prisoner’s whipping, the captain of the guard had to stop to take a break, remarking that their arm was growing tired.
Ganlin’s head had become a dark pit of nothingness when the guards finally picked him up, dragging him towards the wooden pillar and tying his wrists above it. To a degree, it didn’t even feel real to Ganlin, it was almost like he was floating or in a dream, merely watching it happen rather than experiencing it.
“After today’s events in the quarry, each prisoner that was still conscious afterwards was questioned concerning the event.” The captain said, reciting what they had said to each prisoner before. “There were a few conflicting recollections of what had happened, as is natural, however all of them point to one immutable fact. That fact is that you were the prisoner responsible for it all, being careless with where you stepped, causing the near-falls of the group, and becoming aggressive when those near you became frustrated with carelessness.”
Ganlin wasn’t listening, choosing instead to focus on the sound of the rain against the ground and against the wood of the pole, desperate to keep his thoughts away from what was about to happen.
“As punishment for being the main cause of the brawl that happened today, you shall receive forty lashes, and be subjected to the pit for two days.”
Pit? Ganlin had never heard mention of any pit? What was the pit?
Thoughts were destroyed as the first lash hit his back, scattering his thoughts into oblivion as the strike undid any healing his other wounds may have managed. Ganlin grit his teeth through the second. Screamed at the third. Was crying by the seventh. Fell unconscious at the twelfth.
-End of Chapter 8-
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