I hated every step I took across the snow-covered fields, back to the hell hole that was now my life. Back in the alleyway, I had a close call, but I didn't think I was out of danger yet.
Bryard's silence was leaving my nerves on edge. Did he not like that I sided with the Dark Priest, even if I had told a believable lie? I was starting to think I made the wrong choice, not that I had a choice at all. My body had reacted on its own again.
When we reached the tents, I noticed the flaps were open, blowing in the wind, and no one was inside.
"You better had of ate," Bryard said. "Because meal time is over. It's time to work and earn your keep, boy."
He paused for a moment and grabbed the extended chain that dragged behind me, attached to my shackles, then led me past the campsite and toward a carriage near the barn where all the thralls were crammed inside, covered in snowflakes that drifted down in flurries.
I wondered where we were going, and how the hell was I supposed to meet the Priest. There were countless things a thrall could be doing this time of morning. I had read many history books where thousands of civilizations were built on the sweat and blood of others.
Trynton eyed me as he opened the back of the wagon, allowing me to climb in. I didn't like the look. There was something off about it, maybe a warning I wasn't prepared for.
Once settled beside the boy that spoke to me in the tent, I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth.
"They didn't beat you?" The honey eyed boy asked.
"Who knows, they might do it later." I joked, but the long stare the boy gave me told me he didn't share my dark sense of humor.
Changing the subject, I asked. "Where are they taking us to?"
He shrugged, looking in the distance. The landscape was bleak, with barren trees and frozen lakes, and the gray sky was holding clouds that threatened more snow. "The hollows."
[System]
[You've unlocked one new term.]
"What do we do there?" I asked while watching Trynton close the back of the wagon, trying to ignore the system's voice in my head.
I couldn't stop thinking about the words the honey eyed boy said.
The Hollows. It was a place where other Punishers brought their thralls to fight one another, and whoever the victor was, they could become more than a thrall.
They had a chance to become a Punisher themselves. Think of it as a redemption. They saw it as their All Mother—not the All Mother the Vatican worshiped—blessing the children because she saw some hope in them despite the child's wicked ways born without a father, or a whore for a mother.
To them she was an all perfect being, and those who followed in her footsteps needed to be as perfect as they could.
I stared down at the whip welts wrapping around my hand, still red and outlined in purple since it had only been a day.
I knew I would survive the hollows. I had to. That and finding a way to end this nightmare.
"Have you ever fought in them?" I asked the scrawny boy next to me, trying to find some hope I'd live.
"No, my brother did though. He won but died following in the footsteps of the Punishers." He sighed, his eyes were distant and sad.
He looked out into the distance, where the snow was falling heavily, covering the ground with a thick layer of white. The wind held a bite to it, making me shiver in my thin white pajamas.
"I'm sorry for your loss." I told him.
The honey eyed boy forced another smile, and I sympathize with it. I knew how it felt to grin when I wanted to cry. To bite my tongue when I wanted to speak. "I'm Dyon."
I still didn't know my name, and when I tried to think of it, more pain splintered through my skull and I jerked forward, clutching onto my head.
Again those strange memories that weren't my own came flickering through my mind.
The boy was sitting down, pin straight, at the dinner table, like one wrong move and he'd have to hurt again. He rubbed his arm, nervously staring down at the four peas on his plate.
His stomach growled. He was hungry, but he couldn't eat.
The boy looked over at the woman standing near the iron pot over kindling flames, arms folded as if daring him to touch his food.
He swallowed, and I could feel how hungry he was, our stomachs burning at the thought of a single pea. We wait, staring at the clock, and when it finally hits 6pm, we scarf down our four peas in one bite.
"Xavier!" The old woman whacked him across the back with a long thick stick. "I don't care if it's time to eat. You don't move until I tell you to."
I blinked away the memories, finding myself staring at Dyon who was still waiting for my answer. "Xavier?" I'd said it more like a question than I'd meant to.
"Why don't you sound so unsure?" Asked Dyon.
Clearing my throat, I pulled my knees to my chest. "I am sure. Just never liked the name."
Once again another lie easily left my mouth, making me wonder if this liar was in me all along.
"Where's Venny?" Another boy said inside the wagon, all black and blue, no doubt from a good beating. That really made the both of us.
Dyon's lips scrunched into a frown. "He's gone. They took him two days ahead of time. Heard he didn't last a minute in the Hallows."
"How much are they going to take from us?" The other boy's hands balled into a quivering fist at his side.
A girl with muddy brown eyes shook her head. "What use would putting us in a wagon do? Can't fight if we catch the chills." She squeaked out.
I remember when we used to go camping—me, my sister, and Dad. He loved especially camping during the winter. Me and my sister complained about the biting cold, and he taught us how to warm ourselves if we ever got lost.
How to track footprints in the dirt for food, or to know when you weren't the hunter but the hunted. I never thought them to be useless skills, I just thought I'd never need them so soon.
Dad, as much as an asshole he was, thank you.
"Everyone gather around closer. We might not know each other, but all our body heat might help us make it through the snowstorm." I told them, teeth chattering.
Some dirty haired boy scoffed. "I don't know if you can listen to that one. Didn't you get whipped and was caught near a dark priest?"
Everyone's eyes in the wagon turned on me. Oh, screw this guy. If I was just a little closer I'd knock him right out the cart. But he was right. That was not smart of me, and there was nothing I could probably say to change there minds.
He knew it too, his mouth twisting into a taunting smirk.
"But," Dyon threw a finger up in the air. "He did talk Bryard into believing he was on his side. He may get himself in trouble, but boooy does he know how to talk himself out of it."
I would totally fist bump him if I didn't think the antagonistic guy wouldn't jump across the wagon and choke me with the tattered blanket clutched in his hands.
There were a few grunts of disapproval, but in the end, we all huddled together. Me and Dyon laid closer to each other. He was sound asleep and I was on my back staring at the stars, wondering how mom, dad, and my sister were doing before drifting off myself.
***
A deafening crack like rumbling thunder jolted me awake as the thrall wagon bucked violently, slamming my head against the splintered wall. Stars exploded across my vision. No doubt our knuckle-dragging excuse for a driver had once again fumbled the reins like the drooling half-wit he was.
Cringing, I peeked through a gap in the boards. Below, one wheel spun uselessly, its iron rim spitting sparks that vanished into the thick, moss-covered trees that crowded the road. The driver, a frail man with a face etched with exhaustion, wrestled with the reins, trying to control the panicked horse pulling the wagon.
His boots thudded on the packed dirt as he urgently raised his flickering lantern, the golden light cutting through the gloom to scour the trail snaking ahead for potential ambushes. We careened onward, helpless.
An armored footmen had already flung himself from the bucking wagon. His boots thudded on the packed dirt as he raised his flickering lantern, the golden light cutting through the darkness to scour the trail snaking ahead for potential ambushes.
"Dyon," I hissed, elbowing the huddled form beside me. His eyes cracked open, glazed with sleep. "Wheel's busted."
He nodded groggily, doubtless already falling back to sleep once more. The other thralls stirred, cursing as they shifted on the straw, but most quickly drifted back into the escape of unconsciousness.
Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was a learned helplessness, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was the only one truly awake.
Studying the narrow trail twisting ahead through inky shadows, an uneasy tingle pricked the nape of my neck. There were no fallen branches, no rocks to have caused such a violent breakage.
The path looked undisturbed, making the accident all the more unsettling. Yet the watchful guards pressed in on each side now, calloused hands gripped bone-white on their sword hilts as they scanned the branches overhanging the road.
Unease washed over me and I accidentally met the nasty glare of the nearest guard. His face twisted into a vicious sneer before I averted my gaze just in time to see one of their number violently snatched off his feet.
The guard's horrific scream cut off in a nauseating crunch as he was hoisted high into the tangled canopy overhead, limbs flailing helplessly. I couldn't have been the only one that saw that right?
I whipped my head toward the others, my breath catching in my throat. His comrades were frozen, their features slackening with stunned horror after witnessing the gruesome sight. Only one of them, the front right foot soldier, held a lantern up toward the tree's.
The orange glow shone on a single boot clinging to a low-hanging branch, swaying harshly in the night breeze. What were the idiots just standing there for?
Something was wrong.
"We're under attack!" I cried out.