C. Moore - Scars of the Earth

“Save me? You’re going to murder me,” Amanda whispered but knew that the crowd of Healers had turned as mumbles of ‘save her’ reached her ears. She knew she was beyond the point of reasoning. She would die.

Kaedin didn’t have to fade. These were the strongest among them, and they could save her.

“I don’t need to be saved, but there is someone who does need saving. The Scar I came out of, will you find it? Please. The demon that did this to me is so strong, and there is this little spirit who needs to be—”

“We don’t seek Scars. They open to us when the spirits inside them are ready. It’s the way it’s always been, and it is the only way,” the Ancient said.

“There never is just one way, and she was ready. That’s why her Scar opened to me. You could find it. Please, just help her. I don’t care what you do to me. Just save her.” She was screaming at him again and tried to level off her voice.

He leaned down to her. His light was so bright it nearly burned her, and he whispered, “There is only one way, and it’s our way.” He straightened back up and addressed the group of Healers behind him. “Take her away; we have more to discuss.”

Two large men came and plucked her off the platform. One of them was her friend Cole. She’d always considered him her best friend, although he might not have known it. Amanda tried to avoid getting too close to anyone.

As the stranger and Cole carried her off, she looked up and saw tears staining Cole’s handsome face. His chiseled jaw was clenched tightly, and he looked as if he were holding back sobs. Amanda wished she could wipe away his tears. She hated seeing them on the cheeks that usually bore happy dimples.

She looked back at the Ancients and wanted to put up some sort of fight. Maybe, if I hit him hard enough, he’ll turn to dust , Amanda thought, but it was no more than a thought. She knew she could never hurt anyone, even him. She only had her words.

“Why won’t you save her, someone who needs your help, when you’re so quick to ‘save’ me, someone who denies the need of it?” she said.

“You think it unnecessary, girl, but you do need saving, whether you want it or not. No unclean thing may walk among us,” he called out after her.

The last thing she witnessed before the doors swung shut and blocked all sight and sound was the Ancients joining hands and addressing the arena as one.

“Do not be woeful, Brothers and Sisters. There is no need to say farewell. You will see her again clean and whole.”

Seeing them standing together speaking of her like she was already dead and gone sent a shiver down her spine. No one objected, and she wasn’t angry with the Healers. She understood why they were so easily swayed.

The Ancients sounded so righteous.

Amanda hadn’t ever been to this part of the Hovel, so all of the twisting and turning corridors were new. At first, the hallways looked modern with stainless steel and fluorescent lights, but as the journey progressed, the hallways began to grow dark and aged. She’d always known the Hovel was much larger than the old factory stretched out on the Chicago street, but she hadn’t realized the extent.

By the time they reached her holding cell, the walls had become covered in stone and vegetation. The smell of damp earth led her to believe they were deep underground. Amanda knew she was in shock when she thought with a fascinated detachment that she’d never known the Hovel had a dungeon.

Her mind and body were so tired she didn’t attempt to fight as they laid her on the damp rock floor. She didn’t even wonder about how much time she had left or worry about how little time Kaedin had. Her eyelids were so heavy they didn’t need drugs to lull her to sleep this time around. She was out before they had shut the heavy door. Her unconscious mind heard Cole’s whispered words.

“I won’t let this poison or the Ancients take you from me. I’ll find a way to get you out of here. I can’t lose you… not again.”

Amanda didn’t know if her body was stiff from too much sleep, too little, or just lack of a bed. Might as well be dead, since rigor mortis had already set in. Cracking her bones back into place, she took note of her surroundings. Though it was hard to see anything in the soupy darkness, she eventually realized it was an archaic holding cell. Amanda couldn’t guess how old it was, but it resembled the ones in movies that were set in King Arthur’s time.

“Paging the Knights of the Round Table, damsel in distress here… Who am I kidding? There’s no one to save me, or Kaedin,” she said.

She stood up and began to explore more of the cell. It was larger than any of the Hovel’s classrooms. Amanda tilted her head up but couldn’t tell how high the ceiling stretched. She made her way over to the walls and ran her fingers along the moss that thrived in the cracks of the old rocks. Walking the perimeter, she counted her steps, trying to estimate the size and shape of the cell just to give her something to do while she waited. Amanda hadn’t ever feared death. In fact, at the prospect of living as long as the Ancients did, it was a thing she welcomed. Yet here, with death so close, it wasn’t something that she wanted. She took in a deep lungful of cool-moist-air, allowing the taste of it to linger on her tongue. The flavor reminded her of the streets after rain, clean and earthy. She let the soft moss caress her fingers. It was cool and calming. A wave of shock ran through her. How long did she have left to feel the air on her tongue, the moss in her hands? Could you feel after death?

Healers were always so in touch with everything around them, it seemed almost alien not to feel. Her hands stopped short, having made contact with something strange attached to the walls. At her touch, flakes of rust fell into her hand. They were chains, old ones. Amanda moved the heavy chains with some effort.

“Wow, they’re big enough to have an anchor at the end of them.”

She studied the area closer. The chains had worn a canyon into the rock behind them. Her eyes followed them up the wall. She squinted into the darkness at the huge bracelets that hung open. Amanda stared wide-eyed for several moments before realizing she was standing in front of a colossal pair of shackles. She looked down at the metal coiled at her feet and found a bracelet there too. Her muscles strained as she attempted to lift it up. This alone weighed about sixty pounds.

What had they been trying to lock up? she wondered, looking again at the deep track worn into the grey rock. Whatever it was, it had put up quite a fight.

Still holding the shackle, she tried to absorb some information from it. She concentrated all of her energy onto the shackle. Amanda felt disappointment and some anger from whatever had worn the cuffs. She attempted to see the creature behind the feelings, but her thoughts continually led her back to the Ancients in an annoying circle.

She didn’t know why, but she felt it was important to know who or what had been chained here. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she failed to see anything but them.

“Dang it!” She kicked at the wall and tumbled over in pain. “Why can’t I stop thinking of the Ancients? Even when I close my eyes, I see their gaunt faces. Wait…”

She concentrated harder and her mind drew a clearer picture of the Ancient who circled her thoughts. Her face was less harsh than the others were. She was the same as them and yet, somehow, completely different.

She wasn’t at her trial, or whatever it was. Her jaw fell open as she realized why this Ancient’s face was in her mind while holding the shackles. They had her locked up here! An Ancient? Why would they lock up one of their own? She remembered the anger that seeped from the tallest Ancient when she said his wasn’t the only way.