The Fifth

It’s been a few months since the War-King and his army conquered Skywall and deep in the mines Ishma, like all the other children, is having to work eighteen hour days while her ankles and wrists are shackled together. She knows that the purpose of the shackles it to stop the children from believing that they have any hope of escaping their new lives of slavery.

Ishma hasn’t seen daylight for weeks and when she had it had nearly burned out her eyes. She couldn’t remember the world above being as bright as it had seemed when she’d last seen it. She knows it’s because she spends so much time underground in the moody murk that is illuminated only by torches. But even then the torches are few and far between and are quite often extinguished. If the soldiers serving as their guards and jailors were not present the child salves would at least be able to relight the torches. But the guards are present and they often demand that the slaves continue to work irrespective of the light level or whether they can see properly.

However, Ishma refuses to give in to the intimidation and brutality doled out by the guards in this prison that has no bars. She knows the way out, but with these shackles there is no way that she, nor any of the other children, will get far before they would be caught. The shackles limit their movements too much to make escape possible, she thinks as she strikes at the jagged rock face again with the blunt pickaxe. The guards don’t care that her hands are covered in calluses which have become raw from the long shifts of heaving and striking at the unrelenting stone before her.

But Ishma knows better than to ask for another pickaxe, or a rest. Such things, if uttered, are met with beatings. She hasn’t experienced any of them yet, though she has heard tell of them.

The bone jarring clang of the metal pick head jabbing at the rocks echoes all around her. She is but one of twenty two children in this section of the mine and like all those around her is covered in black dirt. The dirt has been pressed deep into her skin and she wonders if she did have a way to clean herself, which she doesn’t, if she would be able to remove the black grime from her flesh. Somehow she doubts that she would be able to. Maybe this is how my skin will look from now on. She hopes not but that is only one of her problems as she, like many of those around her, are no longer clad in the clothes that they were wearing when they were first sent to the mines. Instead, she her body is covered in a simple burlap sack which rubs painfully against Ishma’s skin. It takes only the slightest of movements for the material to grate on her skin and while excavating she is definitely moving more than a slight amount, which is why her skin has become red and itchy.

This isn’t a life, she thinks as she continues to chip away at the rocks. This isn’t how mining is supposed to be done, she tells herself. The blunt pickaxes mean that the children are making very little effective progress and that is not the purpose of a mine. The purpose of a mine, she knows, is to dig as far and as quickly as can be safely achieved.

Ishma has concluded however that the War-King doesn’t really wish the child slaves, like her, to make progress. He and his army just want to work the children to death and they are succeeding at achieving that. Though, Ishma doesn’t know how many children may have died working in these mines in the last few months as the bodies are carted out of the dark spaces, by some of the still breathing child miners. Once outside the bodies of the dead are burned, unceremoniously. That is why she last went to the surface. She hadn’t known the young girl that she guessed must have been eleven but it was heartbreaking to see her body lifeless and beginning to grow stiff. The guards make no effort to remove the dead workers quickly as they serve as proof of the fate that awaits all of the slaves.

In fact, the guards often take pride in their displays of brutality. Thankfully however, the guards rotate often and only keep to short shifts. They clearly don’t want to become as accustomed to the mines like the children that they are working to death.

Ishma hates the guards, especially the man she saw kill her father while he was holding Ishma’s already deceased mother in his arms. The images often flash through her mind keeping her awake during the short hours they are allowed to have as rest. During those hours however the children are supplied with no living quarters. Instead they have to sleep in the tunnels which they are working in. This means that the only places for the children to sleep are the jagged sharp rocks which painfully jab into every inch of their bodies as they lay upon them desperately seeking rest. It’s a sick and cruel life but Ishma refuses to lose hope. She will find a way out, they all will.

But how many lives will be lost until then? A voice in her head asks. Ishma pauses for a moment but quickly realises her mistake and hurriedly returns to chipping at the rocks. Her eyes have adjusted to the low light levels, but without shoes on her feet she struggles to find purchase while swinging the pickaxe back and forth. She knows her feet are cut to ribbons, which is why they are wrapped in filthy strips of cloth. These strips are all that remains of the fur dress that she had been wearing when she’d been sent here. The guards had laughed and cheered upon her arrival, mainly because she is easy to pick out seeing as she is so much taller than most in the mines, especially for a girl. But Ishma had then and still does now ignore the chants and insults thrown at her. At first most had been in whatever native tongue the soldiers speak, but now they aren’t. The soldiers have clearly worked out that none of the children of Skywall understood their native words and that would never do. The soldiers serving as jailors had to ensure that the children knew that they were scum, who are less than human and unworthy of breathing the air that they had until they were sent to these mines. That is the view in the eyes of the soldiers and they make that abundantly clear every day.

Ishma still knows little about the soldiers or their War-King. She has no way of gathering information and those around her, most of which are younger than her, know even less. In fact, all many of the children know is that their parents and older brothers and sisters, grandparents, aunts and uncles were slaughtered mercilessly before their eyes. Ishma can’t blame the children for being too scared to even speak and wonders if they will lose such capabilities the longer they stay in down in the darkness. She hopes not, but it seems plausible that they might. Anything seems plausible now; as once she would have never said that Skywall would be able to fall, especially to barbaric monsters like those that have conquered her home.

“Hey you! Get back to work!” One of the guards roars as he stomps angrily.

Ishma dares to look over her shoulder to find a young boy, maybe ten, trembling on his knees as the guard, who has now reached the boy, stands over him eagerly anticipating the chance to deliver a beating. It is clear the boy is too scared to move as he holds up his trembling hands; it’s a sign of silent surrender. The boy is clearly no threat to the guard and by the looks of his skeletal body is beyond the point at which he can comply with the guards order and return to work.

Ishma feels a swell of rage deep inside her as the guard pulls back his arm in preparation to beat the boy. The guard knows the boy is weak and can’t continue working, but he doesn’t care.

“You insolent little…” The guard barks as he prepares to slam the wooden baton in his hand against the boys’ blackened skin. The guard doesn’t care where he hits the boy as long as his point is made.

Ishma quickly calculates that the impact will almost certainly break bones wherever it hits the weakened child and drops the pickaxe in her hands. She can’t allow this to happen, not while she still has life in her body. She refuses to let the guards get away with their acts of barbarity as she crosses the gap between her and the boy. Ishma shields the trembling boy with her own body, while standing face-to-face with the guard.

“What is this?” The guard right in front of Ishma demands.

“By the looks of things it’s a rat trying to stop us from executing justice.” Another guard spits angrily. He hasn’t taken a step toward his fellow guard or Ishma yet, but it won’t be long before he does.

“Step aside rat.” The guard in Ishma’s face orders through gritted teeth.

Ishma can’t see either guard’s faces as they are covered by their helmets and those screaming faceplates, but see can tell his teeth are gritted by the way he says his words. His thick accent drips through to make the pronunciation of the words sound sharper than they would otherwise be if spoken by a Skywall native.

But Ishma says nothing and just stands there with her arms stretched out from her sides so she can protect the boy, who is still cowering fearfully, his hands covering his face. The boy has never felt as terrified before in his life. And that includes when he’d had to carry the bodies of his mother into the street to be burned. When that had happened he’d been in too much shock to be afraid, but now the shock is long gone and all he feels is fear. It never leaves him and the guards know exactly how to make it a permanent resident within his head. In many ways he wants the beating. He hopes it’ll kill him, so he doesn’t have to carry on this way. But at the same time the fear of pain terrifies him. But death has to be better than this life, he thinks as the other children around him and Ishma stand frozen. They don’t know what to do so they simply do nothing. Should they act? They have no clue if they should. However, they are sure they would be no match for the pair of hulking armoured guards who might be brandishing batons at the moment, but are still armed with swords that hang off the right side of their hips. The children have seen what those blades can do and that alone paralyzes them with in-action.

“He said, step aside scum!” The second guard bellows as he takes a step forward, his hand tightening around the grip of the baton. He hopes this girl is stupid enough to disobey; she’ll make a good target. She’s tall and thin. The guard is sure she will break easily and he’ll take great pleasure in being the one to do it as he smiles sickly below his helmet’s faceplate.

“What’s all the shouting about?” Another guard calls as he and two others come stomping down the tunnel with their hands on their swords ready to draw. These three are the members of the next shift and the shift captain.

“We have a brave one.” The guard standing inches from Ishma advises.

“Is that so?” The shift captain replies as he draws closer. He casts his eyes over the rest of the children and growls deeply.

The response from each of those watching the events unfold is to leap back a step in fear. The shift captain smiles disgustingly below his helmet and nods lightly. They won’t dare try anything, he notes with satisfaction.

“Step aside girl.” The shift captain demands as his hand rests on the pommel of his sword. It’s a threat, albeit a silent one. Ishma knows it is but she refuses to step down. She will not allow these monsters to beat this boy. He has done nothing to deserve it.

“I think she might be mute.” The guard between the shift captain and the one in Ishma’s face offers.

“More like dumb.” One of the other guards spits. He is sickened by the girl. In fact, he’s sickened by all the children in this mine. If he had his way he’d kill them all, but that is not what the War-King wants. The soldier understands why, he wants the children of Skywall to suffer, but he hates having to guard these mines. The stench of these children is as disgusting as they are. It’s proof that they are less than human. They are vermin and like vermin should be exterminated.

“I won’t let you hurt this boy.” Ishma says finally speaking. Her voice sounds foreign to her and it dawns on her she can’t remember the last time she actually spoke aloud.

“And you’re going to stop me?” The guard in her face asks leaning toward her.

“If I have to.” Ishma replies succinctly.

The soldiers acting as the guards for the mine erupt into a round of laughter in response to her defiant words.

“Fine.” The guard in Ishma’s face offers with a shrug of his shoulders as he turns. Ishma is surprised that he seems to be giving up as easily as he is. She would have thought it would have been tougher than this, but just as such thoughts run through her head the guard turns back, at speed.

Ishma doesn’t have time to react as the baton comes whirling round to crash into her ribs. The pain is incredible and makes Ishma bend double. Her arms grip at the impact zone as she breathes heavily and audibly. That is the reaction she should have expected, but she’d allowed her guard to slip. It was her own fault, but still she refuses to back down. They’ll kill you! The voice in her head screams before trying to reason with her that this boy isn’t worth her own life. If he’s not worth it and I stand by and watch, then I will be as bad as the men that beat him, Ishma fires back angrily.

“Not so tough now.” The guard in her face chuckles as he grabs her by the hair and hauls her back to her full height.

The guard is taller than Ishma, but not by much. Though he is much stronger and she winces as he pulls at her hair painfully.

“Orders sir?” The guard then asks the shift captain.

“Punishment for insolence and disobedience is fifty lashes, in public.” The shift captain recalls with a wide smile on his face. It isn’t often he gets to be the one to pass judgement on the slaves. That’s because he knows most of the punishments are done at the discretion of the guards themselves. But this time it’s different and the shift captain licks his lips in anticipation of this, as he will be the one carrying the punishment. He’ll enjoy that, he knows. It’s been a few days since he last got the pleasure, but that hadn’t been in public, while this one would be. He’ll get double the pleasure as not only will he be able to inflict pain upon this foolish girl but also get to see the fear and horror in the eyes of the other children as they have to watch.

“We will carry out the punishment now.” The shift captain then adds. He has no patience to wait for the start of the new day as is dictated by procedure. After all, he knows none of the men on the shift will complain. In fact, they’ll enjoy it nearly as much as he will.

“Spread the word for the children to be assembled in the chamber.” The shift captain then orders to the two guards who accompanied him, who quickly scurry off to carry out his orders.

The shift captain draws close to Ishma before striking her across the face. She almost collapses to the floor as a result of the force, but somehow manages to stay on her feet. The guard that had been in her face painfully pulling at her hair now grabs one of her arms, while his colleague takes the other. They both grip one of Ishma’s arms and shoulders painfully. Ishma struggles and winces at the pain before the shift captain grabs her by the chin and pulls her head up. Ishma having to look directly at the tortured twisted face that serves as the shift captains faceplate as he squeezes her face.

If she were not one of the Skywall she could be considered pretty, the shift captain thinks as he looks her over and then orders for his men to drag her painfully to the chamber at the heart of the mine. It’s a wide circular space from which all the tunnels extend. Past that it is entirely unremarkable.

The shift captain then turns to the remaining children, as well as the still cowering boy, with a sneer carved across his face. Killing them all would be so easy, he thinks. However, none of those that remain dare to stand or speak out like the girl did. They are even weaker than her and that disgusts him.

“To the chamber, now!” The shift captain booms.

The children comply immediately as they quickly drop their tools and then scurry off toward the chamber with the shift captain following them behind calmly. He is in no rush. The girl can panic and struggle. He saw the fear in her eyes. She may think that she is defiant and strong, but he will prove her otherwise. And once her punishment is fulfilled she will be locked in the deep mines. There she will be without light or food or the warmth of others. That will break what remains of her will, he is sure of that. That is why he had the cells constructed down there and they have already more than paid for the work that had been required to construct them.

But as the shift captain wanders across the chamber, which is quickly filling up with terrified looking children and his soldiers, he heads for his small cabin on the surface. He needs his whip. He never carries it on his person. This tool is reserved for punishment alone and he wouldn’t waste it on anything else. Its tip is worst than most because of the barbed metal which will tear at this rebellious girls skin. She will beg for mercy with each and every lash, he tells himself as he reclaims the whip. A wide smile creeps across his face now that the whip is back in his hands. The object is so precious to him that to be without it is like being without his hand, he thinks as he hurries back to the chamber. Which once the shift captain reaches again, he is pleased to find that it is now filled to the brim with terrified looking children.

Ishma, still being held by the two soldiers, continues to struggle but her attempts are futile and are only met by the painful twisting of her arms. Though, she refuses to scream in pain and instead simply winces. Those holding her will get no satisfaction from her discomfort, she promises as the shift captain steps forward. It is clear to Ishma that he intends to address those gathered, even if most of them are here against their will.

“Children, you have been gathered here today so that we can impart upon you a reminder of what can be expected if you dare to question our superiority.” The shift captain says as he gestures grandly to Ishma who at that moment is dragged forward and then quickly secured into a set of stocks. Her head and wrists held in place by the heavy wood. The openings for her wrists and neck are a little too small for her own body due to her size and she winces at the stinging crushing feeling she feels. But that doesn’t mean she has give up as she fights against the restraints even as they are locked into place and the two guards step away.

“This specimen dared to stand against us. She dared to question our station. So, for that she will face the lash.” The shift captain declares holding his coiled whip aloft above his head. The assembled children let out a collective simultaneous gasp of horror, while the guards nod approvingly. The shift captain doesn’t need to see the faces of his soldiers to know that they are eager to witness the delivery of the lashes.

“Fifty lashes will be her punishment.” The shift captain then announces as he lets the whip uncoil from his hand. The metal barbs at the termination of the whip clatter against the uneven rocky floor of the circular chamber. The sound alarms Ishma but she can’t turn to see what made the noise because of the stocks keeping her in place. The entire structure is bolted to the floor of the mine and has not even a millimetre of give to it. What Ishma does know is that she faces the whip, but unless she’s mistaken that sound was the clattering of metal.

That can’t be right, she tells herself. Ishma has seen whips and they are leather, not metal. Panic begins to well up from deep within her. She tries to suppress the panic, but she can’t. Her mind is rapidly sifting through possibilities that she has no way of dispelling.

“Enjoy your punishment girl. I know I will.” The shift captain informs loud enough for only her to hear as he steps back. He’d leant toward Ishma but now he prepares to unleash his lash as he pulls the whip back slowly and then suddenly throws his arm forward with a flick of his wrist at the end of the movement.

The metal barbs at the tip of the whip slash across Ishma’s back. The burlap sack covering her body does nothing to protect her tender flesh below, as the material is instantly torn apart. Ishma manages to suppress her screams of agony form the pain of the barbs as blood wells to the surface now that her flesh has been sliced open. But that is only the first of her fifty lashes and the pain is so severe that Ishma isn’t sure she will be able to take all fifty. Not that she has a choice. She knows that she doesn’t. Plus begging will only give the soldiers exactly what they want, the pleasure to see her suffer. However, as the fourth lash hits Ishma’s torn back she can no longer contain the pain with merely winces and instead lets out low grunts.

The shift captain is surprised at the girls’ resilience; he would have put coin on her already having resorted to begging for mercy as he delivers the thirteenth lash. But somehow she is doing little more than grunting. He can’t have that. She needs to know her place so doubles his efforts as he puts more power into the next lash. And for his efforts he is rewarded with a better response as Ishma gasps.

The pain of the sixteenth lash is far greater than any of those before it and Ishma can barely believe it. She had been sure that the shift captain was giving her everything he had, but apparently she’d been wrong and that worries her. How much worse can he make it? Ishma asks herself as she feels drips run down her sides from her back. She doesn’t have to be able to see the sight to know that the drips are blood running across her skin. She dreads to think what her back looks like as the twentieth lash is delivered. This time Ishma can’t help but let out a slight howl of pain. She didn’t mean to but she’d been so focused on the thoughts in her head that she’d forgotten to focus on keeping herself from giving her abusers the pleasure they so desperately crave.

The shift captain smiles as at last he is getting something more than grunts or the occasional gasp. The girl is getting to the point of breaking. It’s taken long enough, he thinks to himself. He would be proud of her resolve if she wasn’t from Skywall. The problem with the people here is that they believe that they are better than anyone else and that sickens him. That is why the downfall of their kingdom and the suffering of the children is so brilliant. He has to commend the War-King on his ability to dream up such wonderful punishments for their enemies. Each is different and perfectly suited to the crimes of the people they are delivered unto. Though, the shift captain has to admit that his arm is beginning to grow tired. He never imagined he would have to use his full might on every lash to reach this point with the girl. But he refuses to give up. She is all but broken and soon will erupt into tears and cries of mercy; he is sure of that as he delivers the thirtieth lash.

He is over halfway now and Ishma has failed only once in keeping the pain contained. Though, she doesn’t know how much longer she can last. Since that unfortunate slip the shift captain has made sure to keep the pressure up. In fact, he might even have increased it. She can’t be sure as she feels nothing but throbbing burning pain from her ruined back, which is soaked in dark crimson as the fortieth lash is delivered. This one stings more than the last, but she knows why she heard metal clatter to the floor. He’s even more sick than most of these monsters, Ishma thinks as her legs begin to shake from her having stood in such an unnatural position for as long as she have.

However, she can’t move them. If she does then she’ll drop toward the floor, her head and wrists locked in place will likely snap, killing her. Ishma doesn’t want to die. She wants to live. She will live. These men will not crush her spirit, she promises. But she will need a good deal of rest after this, though that isn’t likely to happen. You can’t beat them, the voice in her head offers unhelpfully. When did you give up so easily? She fires back angrily, still refusing to scream in agony. She wants to more than anything. This is by far the most pain she has ever experienced in her life. Ishma would have even said that after the first few lashes, but now without a shadow of a doubt this is the most severe agony that she had to withstand. Except this isn’t normal, she knows. This is the sick pleasure of a depraved mind, likely that of the War-King, whoever he really is.

The last lash tears across her body. This one is the worst of all and makes her buck wildly in response to the rending it causes to her flesh. Still Ishma manages to keep herself from screaming. She has no idea how, but she does. Her back is stinging so painfully she would believe that the shift captain is still going, but he isn’t. He’s exhausted and angered that the girl never screamed loudly in pain or begged for mercy. She is definitely stronger than most, he thinks as he snarls beneath his helmet. Four days in the cells in the deep will fix that.

Previously he’d only considered making her speed a night or two in those cells. That is usually more than enough for anyone. However, seeing as Ishma is so strong and confident he thinks that double that time should suffice. He looks forward to her insane ramblings when she is finally pulled out. Though, first he will deliver one final personal present to her.

The shift captain appears at Ishma’s side. Ishma feels the presence next to her and uses her peripheral vision, as well as the slight angling of her head that she can achieve, to look up at him. Her eyes burn bright with defiance. The shift captain had thought he’d seen fear before, but he’d been wrong. Not that it matters, he thinks as he delivers a single solid jab to her jaw. The impact knocks Ishma out cold, her head left to hang limply like her hands now that she is unconscious.

“Take her to the deep cells.” The shift captain orders to the two guards that locked Ishma into the stocks. They say nothing and simply nod in confirmation of the shift captains’ orders as he turns back toward the mass of terrified children. He may not have got the joy that he thirsted for from whipping the girl, as he had hoped, but the display has clearly had the desired effect on the rest of the children. He drinks off the smell of their fear and that pleases him as each and every one of the child slaves are quivering. Their faces are hidden behind their knees which their arms are tightly wrapped around. A smile creeps across his face. Though, his smile is not as wide as it would have been if Ishma had screamed for mercy.

“Back to work before I lash more of you!” The shift captain bellows as Ishma is removed from the stocks. The children race off awkwardly because of the shackles as they disappear back down the tunnels without so much as a sound, while the guards cackle loudly.