Salderia, Chapter Two- "The Hollow"
October 3, 2014 - accent chair
The Gray Boy sighed as he was led by a canyon. The fill was illuminated usually by a light of a cloudy sky, that was splendid adequate for a child to see where he was going, yet usually barely. His captors pronounced little; usually snippets of that bizarre language. Of course, even his denunciation was bizarre to him, deliberation he didn’t even remember what it was called. He was astounded that he could form awake thoughts, let alone words.
His name, who he had been before a glow threw him here, and since he was here were finish mysteries to him. All he knew for certain was that he had died. He remembered flames, screaming, nothing, some-more flames, some-more screaming, and afterwards waking adult in a desert. All signs forked to genocide and rebirth.
Maybe that’s since he was so calm. It was odd; he vaguely remembered being always gloomy and afraid. But now it was as yet a enormous weight had been carried from his body. He felt happy, during peace…and had no suspicion why.
“Music,” he pronounced aloud as he was marched around a bend. “I could go for some music. Anyone have a song actor on them?”
The scrunching of feet on mill and a swishing of robes was his usually answer.
“Well then, suspect I’ll have to perform myself.”
“Ohhhhh…” he began singing, “I desired a poetic lady walrus, her thick skin was poetic and porous. Against my legs her flippers did knock, as her whiskers tickled my vast — “
Pulsating lights flashed before a boy’s eyes and his skull reverberated with pain as a purloin boundary slammed into his head.
“Shaka!” a rifle’s owners snarled.
The Gray Boy had a titillate to massage his head, yet his hands were shackled together and cumulative to ankle shackles. “Not a limerick fan, eh?” he wisecracked by a pain. “What about a dirge? we know some — well, we consider we know some — “
Another blow to a head. “SHA-KA!”
“Fine! Excuse me for perplexing to move a small aptitude to my kidnapping!”
By a time a Gray Boy and his captors reached their destination, he was exhausted. For hours he had been marched between a ravine walls; around bends, adult high slopes, over hulk rocks, underneath parsimonious arches. While he was a bit shorter than his captors, a Gray Boy still had to drop his conduct to keep from clonking it opposite a stone. He was relieved when they finally stopped.
The stay wasn’t utterly what he expected. The stay was in a giant, low vale in a ravine wall. There were no tents; usually vast boulders that, as he got closer, a child saw were indeed hollowed-out shelters, finish with windows and doors draped with fate tailored to demeanour like partial of a stone. In any preserve were cheap-looking wooden chairs, groundless steel tables, and a vast intense box in a “corner” of a rock. On a boxes were images of serpents coiled together, their heads touching lovingly. There was a gloomy smell of roasted meat, and a sniff of alcohol.
The inhabitants of a camp, distinct a boy’s captors, were not hooded or masked, yet they wore identical robes. In a nebulalight, a child saw glints of armor underneath a robes. The child couldn’t unequivocally tell since of a low light, yet he saw hints of orange, red, and combinations of a dual in regards to a inhabitants’ hair and skin. But it could have been a pretence of a light.
The Gray Boy was taken to a hollowed-out rock, no opposite than a others, and shoved inside. The guards unshackled him, roughly slammed him into a chair in front of a list with another chair on a other side, and shackled him to a chair. Then they left.
The boy’s stomach growled, and he wondered if he’d be fed. As he waited, a child sealed his eyes, perplexing to remember some-more from before he woke adult in a desert. There were many images of people he was pretty certain he knew, yet there were no feelings or names to them. The child felt love, happiness, sadness, anger, fear, and loss, yet had no suspicion who or what to request those feelings to. It was as yet a images and feelings were in totally apart rooms.
A shuffling behind him snapped a child out of his meditation. He looked adult to see a pleasant-looking aged lady travel past him. She sat opposite from him, unsmiling.
“Finally!” a Gray Boy said. “Is there any approach we could get something to eat? Pizza? An apple? Apple pizza?”
The woman’s eyes darted to a guards station behind a boy. One of them punched him in a behind of a head. The child grimaced.
“Who are you?” a lady asked. Her accent was unequivocally thick and unfamiliar, yet a child accepted it!
“Oh, during last!” a child cried happily. “Someone who speaks…whatever denunciation I’m speaking!”
The lady blinked. “You don’t know what denunciation you’re speaking?”
Names of what a child suspicion competence be a answer swirled in his mind. “Arabic? Russian? Hebrew? Spanish? French? English?”
The lady glanced during a ensure again, who again struck a boy.
“No games, boy,” a lady pronounced quietly. “Who are you?”
“Well, that’s a question, isn’t it?” a child replied. “Who am I? How did we get here? Well, we know how we got here; your poetic companions brought me here. And we know how we got to a canyon; we walked opposite a dried for days. But how we got in a desert?” He shrugged.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Is this a trick?”
One of a guards muttered something in a unfamiliar language, eliciting a reprimanding bellow from a woman.
“Why would we pretence you?” a Gray Boy asked.
“Slavers know small else besides cunning and death.”
“Oh-kay….how does that request to me?”
The lady burnished a skin between her eyes. “Because we are a Slaver.”
The child shook his head. “No…I’m flattering certain I’d remember owning a garland of people. And deliberation a suspicion of that creates me wish to chuck up, it’s flattering protected to contend I’m opposite that arrange of chicanery.”
The lady snorted with disgust. “There’s that Slaver distortion we was looking for. Why is a initial judgment out of your accursed mouths always ‘oh, I’d never possess slaves! I’m a good Slaver! In fact, we shouldn’t even call me a Slaver! Call me what we unequivocally am, Human!'”
Human. Now that seemed to make sense. “Well…I’m flattering certain we am human,” a child pronounced carefully. “But we really don’t possess slaves!”
The lady sighed and stood up. She pronounced something to a guards, who unshackled a child and dragged him outside. They cumulative him to a vast mill post, where he was surrounded by armed group (maybe women?). The comparison lady stood in front of them, a purloin in her hands.
The people standing their weapons.
Realization dawned. “Whoa!” The child pronounced quickly, “Can’t we speak some more! I’d most rather cite difference to bullets! Much reduction painful! Well, depending on who’s talking. we consider I’d most rather be shot than hear a Vogon recite poetry, for example…” He had no suspicion what a Vogon was or what it had to do with poetry, yet it seemed to make sense, anyway.
Fifteen purloin barrels were directed during a Gray Boy.
“Okay! Okay! I’ll answer any questions we have! Ask me anything! we can’t pledge my answers will make sense, yet —”
The woman’s face was disfigured with rage. “Ka-“
The silt around a child unexpected erupted as dozens of rattlesnakes detonate from a ground. The snakes slithered adult a boy’s body. They wrapped themselves around his legs. They coiled around his arms. They circled around his torso, regulating a ones next to keep themselves up. All a snakes rattled in unison; a child suspicion his eardrums would burst.
The snakes hissed aloud during a people about to fire a Gray Boy. His would-be killers forsaken their guns, solidified in shock. The aged woman’s mouth hung open.
As a snakes ceased their hissing and rattling, overpower hung over a camp. Everyone was staring during a child and his surprising assistants.
“Well…” a child said, perplexing to keep from vomiting. “…I theory we have something to speak about after all.”