LINKS - Chapter 21 - Red Stone 


Despite its ostentatious name, Red Rock Grand City was, in truth, little more than a dusty collection of buildings, haphazardly arranged around a network of roads to nowhere. The city, such as it was, was nestled between a pair of worn down mountains on the edge of a vast stretch of open, empty plains.  Just under two centuries before, a lone prospector digging in the hills in search of gold, had come across something far more valuable: catalyst crystal. The find had sparked off a stampede, with thousands of prospectors flocking to the area, followed closely by those eager to capitalise on the boom. 

Before the mines had even opened, the Chancellor at the time had announced: “Red Rock Grand City will be a shining jewel, a shrine to The Lord, and the prosperity that she has gifted upon her people.”

The dream had been short lived. What had seemed at first to be just the tip of a massive vein had instead turned out to be little more than a small pocket, surrounded by crystal that had been ground to dust by the surrounding rocks. 
With naught but a few tons of viable crystal to show for years of effort and expense, Red Rock Grand City had become an embarrassment for all involved. Ten short years after the city’s founding, more than three quarters of its population had packed up and moved on to the next dream. Much of Red Rock City had been left incomplete, with roads only partly paved, a city hall whose west wing was little more than a skeletal frame of support beams, and a network of dry fountains in the city centre. A few prospectors still milled about the town streets, chasing long dead hopes of fortune and glory.

One of the few parts of Red Rock City that had been completed, before the city was all but forgotten, was the railway. In anticipation of finding precious catalyst crystal, the Halcyon Locomotive Alliance had built a branch of the 
Southern Spire Railway straight to Red Rock. Had it not been for the trains, Red Rock would have long ago become just another ghost town, empty and forgotten upon the windswept plains. It was probably the reason why, to locals and outsiders alike, the Red Rock branch of the railway was called ‘the nowhere line’.

The rushed construction had also included an immense railway station, a proud display of Halcyon’s prosperity and culture. It was a glorious edifice, complete with marble pillars, intricately carved stone walls, and rows of stained glass windows depicting images of the Lord’s many grand achievements and moments of triumph. An immense domed roof towered above the main hall, casting spots of coloured light upon the floor from thousands of small stained glass windows, glittering like the stars in the night sky.

 The halls, built in anticipation of great crowds, now sat mostly empty, filled only with the multicoloured rays of sunlight, visible through the ever-present haze of dust in the air. Though the station still held desperately to its former glory, the ravages of time were slowly wearing away at the proud structure like ceaseless winds upon a stone.

When the line had first opened, two trains had been specially built for the occasion, both painted in resplendent shades of crimson and gold. Named Iliana and Nerys, after the two daughters of the Captain General of the Order at the time, the trains had been serving the line faithfully for more than a century.  On one of the two lines of track that ran through the station, the name emblazoned in cracked and faded gold paint, sat the Iliana. 

The train’s whistle let out a blast, alerting the handful of porters and passengers milling about on the flagstone platform that the departure time was drawing near.

“I have to ride in the slave carriage?!” Azee’s voice rang out across the nearly empty platform. A few nearby passengers grumbled to themselves and shook their heads at the sight of the upstart pelt.

“Keep your voice down, you’ll get us both in trouble!” Luke sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s only for one day, then we’ll be in New Burleigh.”

“That’s fine for you to say, you’ll be in a carriage with… seats, and… and windows… and I’ll be in a freight carriage!” 

Azee glanced down the platform at the slave car, which was indeed little more than a frieght carriage. The exterior was reinforced with steel bars, and the only things that could pass for windows were gaps, each no wider than Azee’s palm, at the top and bottom of the walls. The large sliding door was halfway open, enough for Azee to see and smell the dark, stuffy interior.

“I made certain to put you at the centre of the carriage, it’ll be more comfortable there.”

“Luke… there’s no chairs, just a bunch of straw on the ground. There isn’t even a place to… there’s not even a bathroom.” Azee’s nose crinkled as she caught a hint of the smell coming from the carriage.

 Azee’s voice switched to a more pleading tone as she looked back at Luke. “Just… tell them I’m your personal servant or valet or something, anything…”

“I did tell them that.”

“And?”

“And they quoted the canon to me. You have to ride in the slave carriage, simple as that.”

“But-”

“It’s just the way it is Azee!” Luke snapped. “What do you want me to do? I tried to get them to make an exception, but they refused.”

Eloise stood off to the side, watching the argument with detached interest, carelessly munching on an apple.

“You’ve been acting like you have a stick lodged up your rear ever since we left Chess’ tower.” Azee growled, trying to keep her voice low. “Just what is your problem?!”

“I don’t have a problem.”

Azee forced herself to take a calming breath. “Luke, I know you better than that. What’s bothering you?”

“Would you like the list in alphabetical order or what?”

 “Luke-”

“You should have known something like this could happen. Besides, you’re the one who wanted to go on this little trip!”

Glancing around the platform to make certain no one had heard him, Luke lowered his voice again. “Just- Don’t worry about it, alright. It’s a short journey, we’ll be in New Burleigh before you know it.”

Azee glanced back at the slave carriage. She winced as a pair of canines, both their wrists and ankles bound by thick chains, were roughly shoved through the door into the dark confines beyond. “Don’t make me ride back there.”

“Azee-”

“Please Luke!”

“Just do as you are told for once.” Luke grumbled as he fiddled with the catch on a long silver tag, stamped with the Azee’s name, destination, and owner. 

Anger swiftly replaced fear as Azee’s fur bristled. She pulled her head back, preventing Luke from securing the tag. “I won't ride in the slave carriage Luke!”

Luke’s temper boiled over as he leaned close and hissed in Azee’s face, grabbing hold of her collar as he did. “Yes, you will! I can’t do anything about it, Azee, even I have to follow the rules sometimes! And you know what else, 
I’m starting to think Comb has a point, maybe I did spoil you too much!”

Azee blinked in surprise. It took a great deal of control for her not to push Luke away, or bare her teeth at him. 

“That was a mistake.” She growled under her breath through gritted teeth. “I promise you, you’re going to regret saying that.”

“I’ll add it to my list.” Luke reached up and wound the metal tag around Azee’s collar, securing it with a twist. “Lord knows it’s extensive already.”

As Azee grumbled, a large canine porter approached, dressed in a simple red poncho and a collar stamped with the insignia of the Halcyon Locomotive Alliance. “Sir, is your pelt ready for transport?”

Luke tested the tag, ensuring it was secure. “She is.”

“Good.” The porter jerked his head to Azee. “Let’s go.”

“Make certain she is well fed and watered,” Luke ordered. “She is of great value, and I want her placed in your most comfortable spot, you understand?”

“Yes, of course sir,” the porter replied, glancing away as the platform echoed with the clanging of a bell

“Hey! Don’t you ‘of course sir’ me!” Luke snapped, startling both Azee and the porter. “I want her treated well, fed and watered regularly, and provided with fresh straw. You will see to it, or I’ll have you for a rug, got it?”

“Yes, of course sir, my apologies.” The slave bowed, the words and gesture a practiced reflex after years of dealing with self important humans. As he straightened he gestured for Azee to follow him. “This way... please.” 

Luke watched as Azee followed after the porter. He felt a pang in his chest as she glared over her shoulder at him one final time, before she was led aboard the slave carriage.

Turning away, Luke started walking back towards Eloise.

“That was a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?” Eloise commented dryly as Luke walked back towards her.

Snatching up his coat and pack with a snarl, Luke marched down the platform towards one of the passenger carriages.

Eloise watched him go, before tossing her apple core into a nearby bin, as dusty as it was elegantly carved, and following after Luke.



***



Azee suppressed a shiver as the porter led her down the center of the slave carriage. On either side of her were pelts of various ages and breeds staring sullenly at the ground. All were bound to the wall by a length of chain affixed to their collars, and some even had shackles around their wrists and ankles. Mothers held their babes close, preventing them from meeting either Azee’s gaze or that of the  porter.

Many of the slaves wore collars bearing the mark of the ‘Order of the Crimson Gift’, the division of the Lord’s Holy Order that dealt with the slave trade. Slaves that bore such a collar had either been bought or siezed to serve as labour for a national project of some sort, perhaps a road, railway, or fortress. Even the Windhill ranch had had to ‘donate’ a few of their slaves to such projects in the past, and of the dozens Azee had seen leave, only a handful had ever returned. Most of these slaves were been taken to their doom.

For a moment, Azee genuinely wished she had taken Sinda’s offer and stayed with him at Chess’ tower.

“You’ll go here.” The porter commanded, gesturing at a small alcove filled with ragged straw near the centre of the carriage.

Before Azee could move, the porter shoved her forwards, knocking her feet out from under her. Azee fell to the ground with a surprised cry, and as she tried to get back to her feet, the porter placed his foot in the centre of her back.

“Just shut up and lie still.” He grumbled, seizing the chain on the wall and swiftly looping it around Azee’s collar.

Azee yelped as the chain caught in her fur. She tried to struggle, but each time she moved the porter pushed down harder, swiftly making it difficult for her to breathe.

With a loud click, the porter finished securing both ends of the chain to the wall. “There, master’s little pet is all safe and comfy.” the porter sneered, lifting his foot from Azee’s back. “I’ll make sure to have one of the chefs come back with a menu for you soon.”

Azee leapt back to her feet and spun around, fangs bared as she lunged at the porter. The moment before her jaws clamped around him, the chain binding her to the wall went taught, and she tumbled backwards, gagging and gasping.

“Careful there,” one of the other slaves, a large male on the other side of the carriage from Azee, chuckled at the porter. “The pup has teeth.”

Unimpressed, the porter scoffed and began to walk away.

“Why?” Azee demanded as she managed to sit up, her voice hoarse. “Why are you being… such a prick?”

The porter paused and looked back at Azee with a raised eyebrow. “Hmmm?”

“We’re all pelts,” Azee growled. “So why?”

“You’re just a pampered plaything,” the porter replied. “Some of us actually had to work to get what little we have.”

“You’re just throwing your weight around! Don’t we get enough of that from humans? Why do it to your own kind?”

“My own kind,” scoffed the porter. “You’re not my ‘kind’, none of you are. I was smart enough and strong enough to claw my way up, not like the rest of you.” 

“You aren’t different,” another slave grumbled, “The humans gave you what you have, and they can take it away.”

The porter lashed out with a foot, kicking the slave in the stomach, knocking her over with a agonized yelp. “Shut up, sit down, and know your place, all of you! Behave yourselves and maybe, just maybe, I’ll remember to have someone come back and water you before we get to New Burleigh.”

The other slaves fell silent, but Azee remained standing, glaring at the poter, her hands shaking as they clenched into fists.

“I said sit,” the porter snarled, stepping towards Azee, raising his chin slightly as he stared down his nose at her. “Do it, or you’ll be the reason no one here eats until we arrive.”

With rage still thundering through her veins, Azee slowly lowered herself down to her knees.

Without another word the porter turned and strode out, slamming the door and locking it behind him.

“For what it’s worth, I like your spirit girl.” The slave across the aisle from Azee chuckled as he looked her up and down with a low grumble in his chest.

Instead of answering, Azee curled up and pressed herself against the wall of the carriage.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” the larger slave barked, his friendly demeanor evaportating in an instant. “What? You too good to talk to me?”

Azee shuddered and her ears pressed against her head as she tried to block out the angry words being slung at her.



***



The train’s whistle cut a ringing blast across the platform, the sound ringing through the halls of the empty terminal, small streams of dust falling from the ceiling like drops of rain.  Outside on the platform, the last few passengers were hurrying to load their bags and climb aboard.

Moments later the engine shifted, the mighty wheels squealing and sliding on the rails. The carriages juddered hard as the train clawed its way forward, slowly gathering speed. Great clouds poured out of the funnel as the train crawled out of the station.

Another blast of the whistle cut through the air as the train began to pick up speed, but the people of Red Rock Grand City paid little mind.

 Soon the dusty old buildings of the city were left behind, revealing a seemingly endless plain of gently rolling hills covered in dry scrub.

From atop an all-but bare tree atop one of the hills, a lone trifit watched as the train accelerated. Its head tilted from side to side, letting out small squarks. As the train vanished in the distance, disappearing amongst the dancing waves of heat and dust, the trifit spread its wings and took to the sky, wheeling around and heading for home.



***



“I’m surprised at you.” Eloise commented from the seat opposite Luke. She glanced out the window at the scenery rushing past. “I didn’t expect a great and mighty Windhill to allow something as petty as the canon to get between him and his great love.”

Luke didn’t reply, instead he simply stared out of the window, though Eloise did notice him stiffen a little at the comment. The compartment Luke and Eloise shared was in the train’s silver-class section. It was small, with only enough room for two seats, a pair of beds latched to the walls, and a small rack for luggage. Still, despite the meagre accommodations, Eloise was relieved to have a chance to sit on something other than a rock.

“Couldn’t afford gold class?” She asked, glancing around and then back at Luke. “What’s the matter Windhill, been a rough few years?”

Luke continued to stare out of the window, not saying a word or moving a muscle. Eloise could have thought him dead, were it not for the rise and fall of his chest, and the occasional tick of his clenched jaw.

“Perhaps we could play a game to pass the time?” Eloise suggested.

Other than silence, no response came for a long while.

“No games.”

“Do you intend to spend the next day and a half sulking?” Eloise asked, raising an eyebrow at Luke as she leaned back in her seat. “You’ve barely spoken since we departed from Chess’ tower.”

When Luke still refused to answer, Eloise sighed in irritation, “Listen, Windhill, you can sulk all you want but-”

“You knew that she and Sinda were together when you sent me to talk to her, didn’t you?” Luke’s voice was so cold and venomous it seemed to steal the warmth from the air. Eloise could tell that Luke wasn’t asking a question, but stating a fact.

“I had my suspicions, yes.”

“You were one of two people who I ever told how I felt about Azee. I told you I was in love with her, despite everything that had happened, and your chosen course was to send me to her while she was…. mating, with that… pelt.”

“Now you listen here, Windhill, -”

“I don’t know what madness possessed me that made me think you actually intended to help me,” Luke interrupted, speaking through clenched teeth as he turned to glare at Eloise. “I suppose I simply underestimate your cruelty.”

“Cruelty? Windhill, your entire family legacy is built upon cruelty. You yourself have-”

“Yes, you’ve made that point many times already.”

“Yes, as until you do something to rectify it, that is what the truth shall always be.”

 Luke’s eyes narrowed as his hand drifted down to rest on the pistol at his hip. 

Eloise raised an eyebrow. “Really? Do you not remember what happened to the last person who aimed a gun at me? Is a fight really what you want, Windhill?”

“You know, at the moment, I’m genuinely not sure.”

Eloise opened her mouth to speak, but paused as she noted the look on Luke’s face. There was anger there certainly, but something else, something deeper. The more she looked at Luke, the more Eloise got the impression she had genuinely wounded him.

‘Maybe his dose of reality was a tad colder than it needed to be.’ But the more she pondered the thought, the more Eloise’s resolve hardened. ‘No, no this is exactly what needs to happen. I need to know whether I can trust him to grow on his own.’

“I trusted you, I even reached out to you, and you could not help but take the opportunity to betray me.”

Eloise spoke slowly, picking her words carefully, “You said you wanted Azee to be free to make choices, but you have been assuming that given the choice she would still choose to be with you.” Keeping her eyes on Luke’s pistol, she continued. “I do not think you quite grasp just how badly you’ve hurt her.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I never tried to hurt Azee. Or anyone for that matter! I did what I had to do, not one thing beyond that!”

“Chara.”

Luke froze, and this time it was Eloise’s voice that stole the warmth from the air.

“You have no idea what you are talking about.” Luke slowly got to his feet. “And neither does Azee for that matter.”

Eloise leaned back in her chair and sighed dramatically. “Yes. You two have danced a rather tiresome ballet when it comes to Azee’s sister.” She turned to look out the window again. “She’s afraid of what you will tell her, and you are afraid to tell her the truth, I wonder which will give out first.”

Luke paused as he slid the door open. For a moment he stood motionless.

“I’m not a particularly religious man.” Luke said at last, glancing over his shoulder. “I don’t know if The Lord was a divine being or not, or whether she has the power to sentence people to damnation. But in your case, witch, I find myself truly, truly, hoping that she can, and will.”

Eloise smiled to herself as Luke slammed the cabin door shut behind him.

“Poor boy… if you had seen even a fraction of the things I have, you would know that damnation is something I am well versed in already.”



***



“You’re crazy! We can’t fight the humans!”

“Keep your voice down,” Syn hissed, striking the hand of the girl beside her with her own. The girl yelped a little, drawing a few glances from the surrounding slaves, but nothing more.

Syn and around half of the other female slaves were working in one of the indigo fields on the western side of the Windhill ranch. The sun was hot, though mercifully there were a great many fluffy white clouds that drifted across the sky. A few overseers kept watch, staying in the shade of the huge willow trees that ringed the perimeter of the field. Half a dozen fores patrolled the rows, watchin their fellow slaves carefully.

As Syn glanced around to make certain none of the overseers or fore were paying any attention to her, a quiet whimper to her left drew her attention back. The woman whose hand she had struck, a young feline a few years younger than 
Syn,  named Nori, was still looking at her with genuine hurt in her eyes. She was small, with an unusually bushy tail and short yet soft yellow and tan fur. 

“You didn’t have to hit me.” Nori mumbled, rubbing her hand. 

“You were going to draw attention to us and…” Syn paused for a moment, before reaching out and scratching the feline between the ears with a sigh.

When Syn had been kidnapped and brought to Halcyon, she’d been shipped off to the interior of the country before she had any chance to plan an escape. Shortly after that, she’d been sold to the Windhill Ranch. Nori had been captured in the same raid that had taken Syn, though unlike Syn, she had been born into slavery on a plantation in Nadiria. They’d been sold together as part of a batch, and ever since, Nori had stuck close to Syn.

It was obvious to Syn that Nori had some kind of romantic interest in her, and though Syn shared no such feelings, it had made the small female a cooperative companion. 

‘Besides,’ Syn smiled to herself as she massaged the top of Nori’ head, ‘She’s soft enough, and gentle. And I suppose it feels pretty good.’

Most importantly, Nori was well liked amongst the others, and was a reliable voice of support, whereas Syn’s fiery temper and anger at her situation had earned her several enemies amongst her peers. 

“Thank you.” Nori blushed and purred as Syn continued to scratch her.

Syn smiled and withdrew her hand. “Don’t mention it.” She couldn’t help but chuckle a little as Nori pouted at her. “Don’t worry, you’ll get more later.”

Nori immediately brightened and the two returned to their task.

Syn and Nori were slowly making her way down a field row and pulling out the weeds that had intruded between the carefully cultivated indigo plants. Most of the weeds were shoved into a burlap sack that they dragged along behind them, while the edible ones were placed in bags they wore across their chests. It was tempting to leave some of the weeds behind in an act of defiance, but Syn knew that before too long a fore would be alone to check her work. The punishments for laziness, or willful defiance as the case may be, were as painful as they were humiliating. Syn’s back itched at memory of the blows she had suffered her first few weeks at the Windhill plantation.

‘The looks on their faces when we break free…’ Syn’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at the overseers, ‘Oh I’m going to make sure they have long, slow deaths.’

Noting the fire in Syn’s eyes, Nori spoke up again. “I don’t like this either… but talking about escape is dangerous. You could get killed.”

“I’m not talking about escape.” Syn replied, a dangerous edge to her soft voice. “I’m talking about fighting back. I’m talking about wiping the humans out and taking Halcyon for ourselves!” 

“But the Order-”

“Is going to be too busy fighting a war to stop us!”

“I…. but…”

“Don’t you want to be free?”

Nori looked up at Syn pleadingly. “Well… yes, but-”

“Then you’re going to have to fight for it! The humans would rather see us dead than free.”

“But I don't want you to get hurt.”

“I know, but if you ever want liberty, you’re going to have to take it.”

“But they have weapons, and there’s the Order.” Nori mumbled, pausing to look around to make sure no one was watching before pulling out a broadleaf plantain and shoving it into her mouth. 

“The rebels have weapons as well. When the lutrine was talking to Fray he said they had guns. Guns! 

Nori’s ears twitched as her face brightened. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“But I heard there are some new Order enforcers in town, and they are really brutal.”

“That’s just hearsay, don’t pay any attention.”

Nori tilted her head. “Heresy?”

“No, hearsay.” Syn sighed as Nori looked at her with confusion. “You know, rumours, gossip, tall-tales.” 

Again Syn sighed as Nori stared at her blankly. “They are making things up, telling lies.”

“O-oh… I see.”

“They really didn’t teach you anything at all, did they?” Syn snarled as she crushed a dandelion in her hands. “Bastards.”

“Keep the talking down,”  a fore, a scarred vulpine with a scraggly tail, called out from a nearby row. “Focus on your work. The sooner we get this field done the sooner we can all take a drink.”

Biting back the urge to snap back, Syn nodded and returned to pulling up weeds. The moment the fore gaze moved on, Syn turned to glare at her.  It was humiliating, she was a trained woodworker, she knew how to turn boring slabs of cedar, oak, pine, or hickory into masterpieces with nothing but a chisel, and here she was, pulling up weeds, being watched over by traitors to her kind.

“But one of them might be useful.” She grumbled.

Nori’s ears pricked up again. “Huh?”

“I think Chara probably had a fore she was working with.” Syn glanced around the field again. “It would be almost impossible without one… and she’d have no way of protecting herself if someone decided to rat her out to save their own pelt.”

Nori didn’t say anything, and instead continued weeding as if Syn hadn’t spoken.

“We just have to figure out who it was.” Syn pondered aloud. 

Noting Nori’s silence, Syn looked at her friend. “What’s wrong?”

“I just… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Syn purred a little and leaned close to Nori. “I won't, I promise.”

As Nori went back to work, Syn glanced around the field again, her eyes darting from fore to fore. ‘So… who would Chara have approached…’

Several rows away, Keeli’s ears twitched as she worked, keeping her head down. The longer Nori and Syn talked, the tenser she became.

“Everything alright?” a nearby slave asked, noting Keeli’s sudden nervousness.

Keeli jumped a little. “Uh… yeah, everything is fine.”

The slave cocked her yebrow for a moment before turning back to her own task.

‘She must have heard our conversation at the river somehow.’ Keeli stole another glance as Nori and Syn. ‘I have to tell Fray!’



***



The only thing that Trip could remember was pain. He couldn’t recall whether he’d been a prisoner for days or weeks. There were no windows in the dungeon, and whenever he was taken from his cell his head was covered with a stuffy leather bag. If someone told him he’d been in the basement of the Lillyvale Order Chapel House for a full season he would have believed it.

 Trip’s feet dragged along the stone floor as he was carried between a pair of order agents, one holding his left arm, the other dragging him by his hair. He would have tried to dig in his claws, had it not been for the fact his claws had been torn out.  He tried to raise his head, aiming to sink his teeth into one of the agents, but he had no strength remaining.

There was a loud metallic clunk, and moments later Trip was dropped onto the freezing cold stone floor. Judging by the stench of filth and rotting straw, he was back in his own cell. 

As Trip tried to get up, a lightning bolt of pain shot through his body as one of his integrators drove his boot into his ribs. Trip tried to cry out, but little more than a rasping wheeze emerged from his cracked and broken lips. 
He tried again to get to his feet, but his arms and legs refused to move. Even the bag being pulled from his head barely registered.

Amidst the hurricane of pain, Trip could make out a number of voices.

“Anything yet?”

“He’s told us plenty, but half of it contradicts itself! The little bastard is lying to us.”

Trip managed to smile to himself. One of the first things that Raid had taught his rebel was how to make himself useless to an interrogator. The simple truth was, no matter what he told them, they weren’t going to let him live. The best he could hope to do was keep them from finding out anything that could hurt his friends and comrades, and the best way to do that was to tell the interrogators exactly what they wanted to hear.

According to Trip, the rebel network was vast, stretching across the valley and beyond. Legions of troops from the north were hiding in the swamps, while mountains of weapons had been distributed across every plantation, ranch, and city. Of course he had even told them of traitors, nestled amongst the population, abolitionists and heretics, all plotting against the Lord’s Holy Order. Not a word of it was true, but it was enough to send the humans scurrying off to tell their superiors the information he’d given them.

Best of all, now that they knew he was lying to them, no matter what he told them, whether it was the truth or not, they would not be able to use any of it. Raid had told them that the temptation to tell the truth would be strong, anything to stop the pain. They had to prove themselves utterly unreliable from the start; that way, even if they did give up real information, it could never be trusted.

Trip gasped for breath as one of the agents placed their foot on his chest and pushed down hard, his bruised ribs screaming.

“Well, least he’ll provide some entertainment fer the crowd.” The voice of Duke, the head of the Order forces in Lillyvale, was unmistakable. 

“They’ve okayed his execution then?”

“Yep, fer the day after tomorrow. Agent Baskerville wants to make sure we make an example of him. Gonna be a whole shebang.”

“So, hanging or burning?”

Trip couldn’t help but whimper a little as he heard Duke’s answer.

“Neither, got clearance to use the garotte. The Agent wants this one to last a good long time.”

Another loud clunk rang out as the cell door slammed shut, followed by the mechanical sound of the lock. 

“Make sure he gets fed and watered, Agent Baskerville wants him to have enough strength to put on a good show.” Duke glared at Trip through the bars. “And if he don't eat, shove it down his throat.”

“You got it.”

“Mel, keep an eye on him.”

“Sure thing.”

That last voice stirred Trip a little. He raised his head as the thudding sounds of boots on stone moved away. Standing outside of his cell was the woman who had captured him. He tried to summon the strength to snarl at her, but managed only to grit his teeth before sinking back to the floor.

Rolling onto his stomach, Trip managed to crawl towards the small wooden bowl of water that had been left in his cell. The water smelled funny and had an unpleasant, brackish aftertaste, but he couldn’t bring himself care.

“You should have cooperated with us.” Mel said, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. She suppressed a sigh as she watched Trip desperately drink. “Lying to us only means that we’re going to have to tighten security further.”

“Do as I’m told.” Trip replied, his voice low and rasping.

“That’s right.” Mel nodded. “It’s like I said to you, all you had to do was do what you was told and you-”

“Would have died a slave,” Trip interuppted. 

Mel paused for a moment. “Not if you behaved yourself.”

“I’d never be free.”

“Maybe not, but at least you wouldn’t be here.”

“I’d have spent my life in chains, working for everyone but myself,” Trip growled, parroting words he had heard Raid speak many times. “I’d have died young, my children sold, my friends sold or killed. I’d rather die a hundred times before accepting that with my head bowed.”

“Wow, that’s a hell of a speech.” Mel raised an eyebrow. “So, was it the leader of your little rebellion that filled your head with that dreck.”

“No!” Trip wasn’t sure why he lied.

“And living in a sewer, with a bunch of other brutes, living like animals in the dark, was that ‘free’?”

“Yes.” 

A heavy silence fell between them.

“How’s the cut on your head?” Mel asked after a few moments. “Looked pretty nasty.”

“Why do you care?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think I am-” Mel scowled down at Trip. “- but I am not the kind of person who enjoys hurting children.”

“I’m not a child!”

“Yes you are. You can’t be more than nine.”

“I’m twelve.” Trip snapped, fresh strength in his voice.

Mel was genuinely taken aback. “Twelve?” Mel’s heart stuttered at the number. Even Trip noted a change flicker across her face, but it was gone in mere moments.

“Twelve?”

“Yes.”

“Really? But you’re… You’re tiny!”

“And you’re ugly.” Trip shot back without thinking.

“Why you-” Mel paused, and then sighed heavily. “I’m arguing with a pelt brat… what in the Lord’s name is wrong with me.” Straightening the hat on her head, Mel leant back against the wall. “Don’t matter none. Fact is, no matter what they do to you, I ain’t gonna enjoy it.”

“You work for people who will.”

“We all do what we have to to survive. Besides, it’s not like I wrote the canon.” Mel shook her head. “Don't even know why I’m talkin’ to you. No way a pelt could understand.” 

Trip unconsciously reached up and touched the right side of his head. Gingerly he probed the place where Mel had struck him with the butt of her rifle after his failed attack.

“Are you the one who’s going to kill me?” 

The question surprised Mel.“ I… No, Chief Duke says he’s going to do it. You and your rebels made a lot of trouble for him.” 

Trip wanted to smile, but his jaw hurt too much. “But you’ll watch.” he said after a few moments.

Mel stepped away from the wall, leaning towards the bars. “I’m still ain’t going to enjoy it, if that’s what you are trying to get at.” 

“Liar.”

“You’re calling me a liar? Just because I want to see justice served against you doesn’t mean I want to watch you suffer.”

“Liar.” Trip mumbled again, trying and failing to quell the fear he felt squeezing his chest.

“I haven’t lied once in my life.” Mel scoffed, crossing her arms. “But you? You attacked me after you surrendered.”

“You had a gun,” Trip mumbled, curling up into a ball. “And you can’t trust humans. I had to make sure Teff and the rest got away.” 

“Teff, she was the feline?”

Trip nodded. “Three and Five too.”

Again, Mel raised an eyebrow. “Three and Five? What kind of names are those?”

“The only ones they were given.”

“Well I knew you pelts gave each other weird names but-”

“You think we give ourselves our names?” Trip raised his head and glared at Mel over his shoulder. “My mother never even got the chance to give me a name, she wasn’t allowed, not that she would have cared to anyway....”

“Wha… But-”

“My ‘name’ is Two Thirteen Nine Fourteen.”

“Two thirteen nine fourteen… what in the lord’s name does that even mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. My free name is the one Teff gave me.” 

Mel wasn’t sure what to say. “What… is your name?” She asked after an uncomfortable pause. “Your ‘free-name’ I mean?”

Fighting back the urge to cry from the pain, Trip managed to pull himself up onto his elbows, his gaze meeting Mel’s. The two stared at one another, each unable to look away. For a moment, a tiny moment, Trip thought he caught a glimpse of compassion on Mel’s face, while Mel felt like she could see the yawning chasm of pain, anger and fear behind Trip’s eyes.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the moment passed.

With all the strength he could manage, Trip spat in Mel’s direction. His spit fell far short of her, but the point was made. Whatever shadow of concern had been present on Mel’s face vanished almost immediately. 

“Fine then, pelt, have it your way.” Mel stepped away from the bars, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

As Mel stalked away, Trip’s arms began to shake. Unable to hold himself up, he collapsed back onto the straw.

“It doesn’t matter.” Trip mumbled as he curled up as much as he could. “Raid will come save me. I know he will.”

Within moments the little rabbit fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.




End of Part 21

Special thanks to my Patrons: Dowel-Rod, Tokamak, ArcaniA20, Technic_Bot, Kapłan Sekty Pieczarek, Dbail & K’vofe!
And Special thanks to K’vofe for his stellar editing work.
