Bound by Darkness (Bound By Series)

9. Clinging Sickness

Chapter 9

Clinging Sickness

MORIA

The pungent smell of sweat wafted through the damp cave as I curled my legs to my chest, creating extra space for the girl beside me.

Her arms and legs were spread wide as she rested on her stomach. Her breathing rasped in the dead of night as her brown hair curled around her flushed cheeks in wisps that framed her rounded face. Not a single blemish marred her skin and her fingernails were still clipped neat as if she’d never seen the stains of labor.

She had most likely been someone of importance. A person who had lived a lavish lifestyle until she’d been turned in. Fae or half-breed, it didn’t matter. Everyone arrived here for one reason—to die.

The young girl shivered violently, her forehead glistening with sweat as her lip wobbled, a whimper escaping.

Others echoed back, their coughs weaving sickness into the stale, stagnant air. A death trap waiting to suffocate and kill from the inside.

The girl moaned, her hands curling against the flooring. She’d been like this for five days. The entire five days I’d been here for.

How she’d survived this long was a mystery, let alone how she managed to pick up her ax each morning. I didn’t want to know the resolve it took to fight through the stinging of sickness, but something tugged me toward her as I looked at her from the corner of my eyes.

“Can you… stop staring at me?” a whispering voice asked.

My eyes widened as I found the girl peering at me. Her eyes were a stunning cerulean blue as she blinked back the remaining sleep.

“Surprise. I’m not dead.” Her arms shook as she positioned herself upright. Sweat dripped from her body as she raised a shaky hand to move the hair from her face.

“You… should rest as much as possible until it’s time for shift work.”

“Too late,” she replied. “There’s the big boss himself.”

On cue, a man drifted into the cave, his beard the color of salt. “Wake up,” he bellowed. “Shift work!”

“Is he deaf?” the girl said next to me. “I mean, it’s the crack of dawn. The birds from the neighboring forest could hear him.”

I bit my lip to stifle my laughter—this girl.

“You there,” the man bellowed as his finger pointed to her. “Number.”

“It’s Ellia .”

The man’s knuckles turned white. “You are a slave, girl. You do not have a name. Number.”

Ellia grinned. “Fetch it yourself.”

The man’s feet pounded the earth as he closed the distance between us.

Crouching in front of her, his hands wrapped around her hair as she desperately tried to untangle herself from him.

A punch to the side stilled her movements as he tossed her against the ground.

“Stop it.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my lips.

Lifting her arm, he examined the number tattooed in ink. “194. You’re one of the new ones,” he spat. “I can see the fever in your eyes. You won’t last but a few weeks,” he said as he curled his hands. “Two extra hours to your shift should quell your tongue.”

Blood splattered the floor. “Try me,” she rasped between fits of coughing. She wiped a trickle of red from her lips.

“Stop it,” I said a little louder. This wasn’t… this wasn’t right .

The man turned toward me. “She your friend?” His fingers snatched my arm as he examined the number tattooed on my wrist in ink. “Well, 207, what did you say?”

My head dipped low as hair fell over my eyes.

“Quiet, are we?” he mused as his fingers gripped my chin. “I asked if you have anything to say?”

My eyes widened. “N—No.”

“Pity.” His fist collided with the hollow of my cheek.

Blood splattered from my mouth onto the floor as the people beside me stepped away.

The coughing in the cave stopped.

“I’ll ask you again. What do you have to say?” he spat.

“Please, I—” His fist collided with my jaw as I gasped for air. Gayle had always avoided my face during my time in the prison.

The sentinel’s fist impacted again, slicing deep. The sting was worse than any of Gayle’s beatings.

“Stop! I don’t know her!” Ellia cried out.

The man tensed his hand as he stood. He left me lying there on the floor as blood dripped from my split lip. “I suggest you keep quiet and answer my questions when I ask. Otherwise, I might not stop next time. ”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked back to the entrance. “What is everyone doing? Line up!” he yelled. “Including the both of you.”

Ellia groaned as she lifted her arm underneath mine. “Come on.”

My legs threatened to buckle underneath me as I glanced at her. “I’m… fine.”

Ellia’s eyes softened. “You’re not fine.”

“I would be if you’d follow the rules and keep low.”

Ellia’s lips pursed together, but she said nothing more as we lined up at the entrance. Before we left, she’d already wiped the sweat from her brow four times. My heart bled for her state, but staying near her would kill me, and break the promise I’d made.

I needed to stay away from her if I was going to survive to find Thalia again.

Quietly, while no one looked, I thumbed the necklace I’d smuggled in my pocket, and prayed her strength would pass through it.

Dirt caked beneath my nails as the pickax drove into the solid mass of stone before me, clouds of dust coating my lungs in its vile stench.

Oil lamps lit the underground fortress. It was a massive cylindrical tunnel with no faelight in sight. Not even a wisp of fresh air met the depths at which they had sent me. One incorrect swing and the ceiling above would crush me before I could scream to the gods for favor.

Ellia stood next to me as her pickax barely made contact with the wall. Her swings were pitiful and her cart was only a third full. She’d hardly collected any black material, and her skin was slick with sweat and grime.

“Five minute break!” a sentinel shouted as a cart raced down the makeshift tunnel system.

The cart stopped at the bottom.

Rations.

Prisoners fled to the cart, their chained hands grabbing the limited supply from inside as they fought against each other for an extra pouch of water like a pack of kelpies.

Dropping my ax on the ground, I headed toward the fray. Thirst clung to my throat, begging me to trample those around me as I reached my arm into it.

A man to my left shoved me out of the way, his long arms hauling pouch after pouch to his chest.

I pushed my way back to the cart, my arms straining to reach the bottom?—

It was empty.

Not a pouch or morsel of food remained.

Tears pricked my eyes as I sauntered to my section, my legs collapsing upon arrival.

My stomach and throat screamed their protests, but I had nothing to offer them.

“You… you didn’t happen to grab a pouch did you?” Ellia asked, her eyes swiveling to mine.

“No.”

“By the Mother,” she cursed, her pickax clanging against stone as she sat next to me. “I was hoping there would be something left.”

I nearly scoffed at the statement. I’d give anything to have a sip of water or taste stale bread if it meant the ache in my stomach would stop.

“Thank you again for?—”

I held up a hand. “It’s fine,” I said as my head leaned against the crumbling stone .

My head never seemed to stop aching either—a residual pounding as if someone was drumming against my skull.

Ellia coughed, bits of blood splattering her sleeve as she wiped the sickness from her mouth. “Hold on.”

With a grunt, she stood, her body swaying with each step as she headed toward the man who had shoved me out of the way. Multiple pouches of water rested beside him as he downed one after another.

Was she suicidal?

My eyes floated to the dim ceiling, not a drip of light touching my skin. This was worse than the prison. Even more harrowing than living at home with my father under his tyrannical rule. As the sounds of munching filled the tunnel, I couldn’t help as my mind wandered to Thalia. Was she alright? Was her new master treating her okay?

At least she wasn’t in the prison rotting alone. If she hung her head low, she’d even have a shot of a normal life if she was at her new province. A life lacking freedom, but a life consisting of necessities. A life I’d accept. A safe life where only one man would touch me. I’d give anything for a bit of comfort and food.

“Here,” a meek voice said. I followed the sound, my eyes landing on Ellia as my mind stilled.

In her stained hand rested a pouch. Unopened and unused.

“How—”

Ellia sat down, another cough bellowing from her gut. “We made a trade. I’d fill the rest of his cart for two pouches of water.”

I gripped the pouch tightly, feeling the water slosh back and forth beneath the smooth hide as my head snapped up. “You did what?”

Ellia took a large swig. “You needed water.”

“I… I can take care of myself,” I said as I glanced at the man across from us.

Was it my pride stinging me? That a girl half my age refused to back down from a challenge?

“You looked pitiful sitting here,” she said. “Your face is easy to read.”

“My face is not?—”

Ellia chuckled, a grin crossing her flushed cheeks. “Drink the water and thank me later.”

A frown stitched itself onto my lips as I reluctantly raised the water, savoring the lukewarm liquid as it trickled down my throat. I squeezed the pouch, making sure every last drop hit my tongue.

“Breaks over!” A voice echoed against the walls as everyone scrambled to their feet, groans emitting in the room.

Tossing the empty pouch into the cart, I picked up the rusted ax as the blisters on my hands tore.

Ellia grabbed hers, nearly knocking into the wall of stone.

It was pitiful seeing her like this.

She’d added more work to her load to give me water. She had done that to a mere stranger, and the overwhelming feeling of guilt pressed into me as I stared at the worn ax.

Before my head talked me out of it, my hand reached out to touch her shoulder.

She jumped in response, her ax whipping around.

I barely had time to step out of the way before it sliced my hair. “Watch it!”

“Sorry,” she replied, her mouth dropping in a grimace. “You startled me.”

My hand rose to touch my hair. It was okay. Nothing had been cut. My breathing flattened as I tossed it over my hunched shoulders. Was I sure I wanted to do this? Was I— “I’ll finish the cart,” I blurted, silencing the wheel of thoughts .

She paused. “Cart?”

My head dipped in a nod. “For the water. I’ll mine the rest of his so focus on your cart as thanks.”

A beautiful smile lit her face, and for a second, a young girl gleamed back at me, not tarnished by Galar’s conditions as she said, “Thanks.”

Without another word, I headed over to the man’s section, my hands as heavy as iron. He didn’t say anything as he rested his head against a wooden beam, his eyes closing as he slept.

If I was Thalia, I’d have slit his throat for his arrogance. But I wasn’t her. I was trying to survive the best I knew how.

As my ax met solid rock and dirt, I imagined his face as I crushed the pieces to bits of dust. It helped to calm the storm inside me.

The raging for Ellia.

Strike.

The raging I felt for not fighting to save Thalia that day in the cell as Gayle dragged her away.

Strike.

The raging I harbored toward myself for letting men defile me for years.

Strike.

The intense hatred I directed toward myself.

Strike. Strike. Strike.

Every hit chipped at the chains surrounding my heart and released a part of myself I’d hidden in the depths of my shadows.