Chapter 4: Chapter 3 – Escape Attempt

On that day, Vermon rode his horse across the roads of Ashtrem heading for home without stopping. Orb, who was walking behind him, finally collapsed to the ground unconscious. Foreseeing that, Vermon immediately stopped his horse and got off.

When he carried Orb, he could hear his heaving chest foreboding shortness of breath. Furthermore, his clothes were wet as a result of his heavy sweating and bleeding. Vermon put him on the back of his horse and climbed again behind him.

Vermon was not worried about the possibility of being infected by the plague while dealing directly with Orb who did not completely recover. After all, the descendants of Uthus had been blessed with immunity to plagues that gave them the ability to deal directly with the infected without fear of infection.

However, he was so annoyed by the fact that he and his slave drew the attention of passers-by that day. Orb’s behavior has left him in a sour mood as the former refrained from complaining, expressing his pain, asking his master for help, or at least requesting some time to rest.

When Vermon reached his spacious house, two of his servants were standing in the front courtyard to greet him. Vermon left Orb on horseback and spoke to them.

“Take him to the isolation room. Give him no food and no water until I say otherwise,” when the two of them pulled Orb down, Vermon stared at him and coldly added, “remove his bandages and burn his clothes.”

Orb had regained consciousness by then. His eyes were hidden by the strewn damp hair over his face. Startling everyone, Orb shouted at that moment as he pushed the two servants behind him and darted toward Vermon with the little blade, he had stolen earlier.

Orb directed a stab at Vermon’s face, but he blocked it with his hand, and pushed Orb’s hand away. In a flash, Vermon’s other hand grabbed Orb’s and twisted it until he dropped the blade. With his injured hand, Vermon violently punched Orb’s face, causing him to fall unconscious for the second time.

Orb’s limbs rested on the ground in utter defeat as Vermon kept holding his hand. “As you have seen, he is ferocious and deceitful. Tie him up and leave him in a bare corner. Make sure there are no tools around him or furniture. I’ll deal with him later,” he coldly spoke to the terrified servants.

Vermon shoved Orb’s body out of his way and left it lying on the ground of the front courtyard like a filthy, abandoned puppet, then crossed the courtyard quietly and with a slow pace despite the great fury that was raging in his chest.

He pondered why Orb was so rebellious and angry after everything he has gone through since they met. The young man’s resistance was terrifying and exhausting, and neither intimidation nor torture crushed it.

Vermon had never brought home a slave who drained him of all his energy and occupied his mind to the point where he felt an urgent desire to talk to his friend the Crown Prince about him.

When Vermon entered his private chamber to treat his injury, he sat down before a low table, took out a transparent liquid and a roller gauze from a hidden drawer, and began to sterilize the wound, which was so deep that it required stitching.

He then sent for his own physician, Luba, who came to visit him without delay. The old physician sat down on the ground before Vermon, silently wondering why Vermon had not cured his injury using his Uthusian energy.

When the physician had finished sterilizing and stitching the wound, he was not worried about Vermon’s condition due to his perfect health and strong build; however, he could not help but wonder, “We are sons of Uthus, our wounds can heal using our inner energy. Why did you summon me to treat your wound in such a primitive way?”

“I wanted to experience what it’s like to have a wound that doesn’t heal quickly,” Vermon replied while fixing his eyes on the cotton balls stained with his blood. At that moment, he saw, in his mind, Orb lying on the ground of the fountain square where he was brutally lashed, the blood-stained shirt, the torn flesh, and his frail body sweating all over while stifling grunts of pain. The thought of it all made him so irritated.

“Really?” The physician asked in disbelief, “You did not want to use your inner energy and preferred to stitch your open wound?”

“Yes.”

Old Luba raised his eyebrow, examining Vermon’s features with his wide eyes, and probed, “Didn’t you summon me because one of your slaves needed my help?—as always?”

“...”

Vermon narrowed his eyes and a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, subconsciously flipping his injured hand through the air. Vermon then raised his head and fixed his bright eyes on the face of the physician.

“Rest assured, my lord—I won’t interfere. If you don’t want me to see him, I won’t,” Luba nervously grinned.

“Then, leave my house at once, dear old Luba!” Vermon replied. Though the smirk on his mouth grew threatening, he was still unwilling to kill his old physician.

***

The sun had set when Vermon went to the isolation room, which was a standalone room in the back of the main courtyard, secluded by a small front yard with a door separating it from the main house.

The bare room was three meters high and four meters wide, with a dull lamp hanging from its wooden ceiling, a window opposite the door and a cold wooden floor.

Vermon used this room for years to discipline his servants and slaves. For that reason, he kept it devoid of any piece of furniture that might provide comfort and warmth.

There was no need since he never kept his slaves and servants locked up for a long time in the room. However, there was only a single wooden pillar to which a whip and ropes were attached to tie the slaves and lash them.

As soon as he entered, one of the two servants met him while he carried Orb’s blood-stained clothes, old bloody bandages as well as his large mud-stained shoes.

“I instructed you to burn his clothes a while ago. Why is there a delay?”

“We resorted to using sleeping incense sticks, — master, and waited for it to take effect— to make him sleep;” trembling in fear, the servant added, “he was resisting us— ferociously, master.”

Vermon gazed at Orb for some time. The young man was lying on the ground, on his right side, with his back to the door, and his hands and feet bound with ropes resting on top of each other.

His sweat-drenched hair hid his face; however, his still subdued body, as well as the sight of his scarred feet, would have been distressing to any who saw him.

Although the servant had given Orb a new white shirt, new stains of blood had formed on it. When Vermon noticed this, he stood behind Orb and lifted the edge of his shirt with the pointed tip of a thin cane he had brought with him.

Vermon saw the marks of his brutal lashes on Orb’s back, crisscrossed blazing red lines, some of them torn, inflamed, and still bleeding.

However, he did not want to help him, and thought that if Orb remained that way for a while, he would learn a tough lesson through suffering and pain. He would become obedient and submissive to his master without any form of resistance.

“Don’t stop burning the incense sticks,” Vermon suspected that the exposure to the incense smoke would irritate Orb’s stiff lungs as the wheezing sound did not seem to stop. Yet, he chose to disregard that intentionally.

“Let him be like this until I decide what to do with him,” he said sternly.

The servants took turns watching Orb and burning incense sticks. Those incense sticks failed to completely put Orb to sleep. However, they made him feel drowsy and numb enough in his limbs to weigh him down and weaken his resistance to the servants’ attempts to give him doses of anti-plague medicine, in addition to frequently changing his clothes.

They continued in this way by orders of Vermon, until the third day, when he himself came to the isolation room and bent on one knee behind Orb to untie him. Vermon silently smiled while looking at the sleeping young man as if he was promising himself some entertainment out of his deed.

Before leaving the room, Vermon ordered his servants to stop burning the incense sticks, which made them wonder about what their master was thinking.

***

That night, Orb sat straight after making sure that no one would enter the room. His body was stiff from the effect of lying down for a long time, and his sore and pus-filled feet hurt him when standing and trying to walk.

He felt very dizzy because of his hunger, as he had not eaten anything for days, except for the medicine that burned his empty stomach.

When Orb felt his way in the dark with his left eye tracing the source of light emanating from the window, he found the thin cane, that Vermon had left him, resting against the wall next to the window. Taking the cane in his hand, Orb stood in front of the window and considered escape.

Orb hated staying in this empire and wanted to escape from that sadistic man who seemed to enjoy insulting and torturing him so much. He also wanted to escape to find a solution to his problem; to remove the seal in his hand which marked his enslavement. And so, he was desperately willing to nullify its effect.

He quietly opened the window and jumped with difficulty even with the window being a bit low on the wall. In the yard, Orb encountered another difficulty. Despite the great height of the outer wall surrounding the house, he had no choice but to try to climb and jump over it.

He found an old wooden ladder placed on the side of the wall. Somehow this looks easy. Aren’t they sloppy about locking windows and leaving a ladder here to help me escape? Orb had his suspicions but chose to disregard them and go on with his decision to escape.

When he raised the ladder cautiously and began to climb it, he experienced discomfort due to the increasing pressure on his feet. Orb reached the highest point of the ladder and began to examine the other side of the wall very closely.

It was almost impossible to see with one blurry eye in the dark, and he did not know what the ground surface below him looked like at that height.

Unfortunately, he was unable to use his energy as before, due to his fatigue and bad condition, so, he mustered up the courage to jump from the edge of the wall to the ground surface.

His feet rested on a flat, cold surface, but his pain was too great that a whimper slipped from his mouth and small water droplets rimmed his pale eyes. The soles of Orb’s feet were groggy and bloody. He cursed Vermon for removing his bandages and began to walk with heavy steps, trying sometimes to hurry and sometimes to slow down a little.

Orb suspected two great shadows, reflecting on the walls of the street, were following him. However, he was not sure, and thus reduced them to mere fantasies, attributing them to his intense feeling of hunger and the effect of the incense sticks that he inhaled for a long time. This was until he heard someone’s foot kicking small pebbles on the ground in his direction.

***

Orb heard more small pebbles being kicked in his direction, but he did not delay for a moment as he sped away across the wide streets to narrow alleys lit with lamps hanging on wooden poles.

Then, Orb lightly jumped off the shoulder of a headless statue on one corner to the other side over a house roof covered with colored wood panels. That was when he heard someone’s voice saying in a loud and excited tone, “I told you! He’s a ferocious devil who doesn’t act like an ill blind man!”

“I can see that.”

“How can he move, jump, and infer directions with ease?”

“I think I have an idea, Vermon.”

Orb heard that short dialogue as soon as he settled on the roof. Oh, no! He’s here! Not him! Not him, please God!

Orb ran as fast as he could despite the terrible pain in his injured body and the difficulty of breathing, but he did not go far as he jumped to the ground to turn toward the main street leading to the Imperial Palace.

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Then, someone flew over him very lightly and gracefully, and landed in front of him, while the other, stopped behind him.

“Your night’s adventure is over, you devil!” Vermon smirked.

***

Orb kept turning around in distress, glancing in the direction of one enemy behind him and another unfamiliar one before him. In his right hand, he held his cane, which he was keen to bring with him during his escape.

Panting and sweaty, Orb asked, “How—did you—follow me?”

Vermon crossed his arms feeling triumphant as he snickered, “I have set up this ambush for you myself. I was expecting your escape attempt, but not so quickly.” Then, in a sudden commanding tone, Vermon shouted, “Orb, you insolent slave, I command you to kneel down before your master!”

“Go to hell!” Orb shouted in defiance.

“You are in hell!” Vermon replied coldly. He seemed in a good mood and wanted to provoke his prey.

“Kill me!” Orb shouted at him in rage with his eyes wide open, and at that moment, Vermon’s friend stood next to him.

“You really did enslave him Vermon,” the cold-voice person sounded slightly amazed, “and indeed, he is blind! Someone did this to him as a form of torture.”

When Vermon’s friend tried to approach Orb, taking one confident step toward him, Orb took a step back. Vermon’s friend crossed his arms and despite his feeling of a sudden headache, he added in amusement, “Vermon, this young man is extraordinary, he is a Roaming Star, he can infer directions, even if his eyes are damaged. Not many humans possess such ability.”

“A Roaming Star! No wonder then,” Vermon said. He was finally able to understand how Orb could find his way to the stone fountain three days ago. That little discovery about Orb excited him more than ever.

To their astonishment, Orb disregarded their presence and started to run again, “His defiant nature and rebellious behavior are intolerable,” Vermon cried in excitement as he followed him, “he is restless,” he added.

Vermon disappeared into thin air and then reappeared before Orb, blocking his way, and making Orb, who did not see him, bump into his chest, and fall to the ground in shock.

Then, Vermon’s friend stood next to him again, smiling. “I thought his rebellion excited you!” he squinted his eyes at Orb and wondered, “Could he be of a noble bloodline...?”

The two stared at Orb grimly when the latter raised his cane in a defensive position. “Kill me—kill me,” he growled in apparent despair, “What are you waiting for?”

“As I thought, only slaves accept humiliation. As for this person, he seems proud and noble. I believe you have offended him, Vermon.”

Unlike Vermon’s fierce, loud, and rude voice, Orb heard the cold voice of Vermon’s friend whispering in an icy sarcastic tone, which prompted Orb to quickly break his thin cane as he shouted in rage, “If you don’t release me, I’ll kill myself.”

“Do it. Let me see you try. I won’t stop you,” Vermon retorted with indifference while confidently approaching him. Orb instantly grabbed the sharp tip of the cane with his hand and cried in pain as he stabbed his chest before falling on one knee.

At that moment, Vermon startled Orb by resting quickly on one knee before him. Then, with one hand, he grabbed Orb’s trembling hand and savagely pushed the tip of the broken cane more and more into his chest.

Orb was howling like a wounded wolf, feeling remorse not for the intensity of the pain, but for his stupid action, which was a source of pleasure for his tormentor. He suddenly changed his mind and decided to resist.

Meanwhile, Vermon squinted his eyes in a silent, frightening ferocity. “I like it when you scream!” he laughed, his eyes glowing in pleasure.

“This will not kill you. You fool! I told you before that you will not die so easily until I permit it. What you did to yourself will be the hardest lesson you have been taught yet. Don’t forget it!”

After Vermon had thrown him to the ground, Orb, still screaming in pain, was fighting Vermon’s hand in a desperate attempt to get the cane out as it pierced his chest one centimeter from his heart.

“Don’t kill him. Not yet,” Vermon’s friend suggested.

“Difficult, —unruly, and not amenable to discipline or control but very entertaining!” Vermon looked at Orb in disgust, before adding, “No, I won’t kill him, but I will watch him writhing,” he hissed, “like a filthy bug.”

“Shush him, will you? He is too noisy,” Vermon’s friend advised coldly, apparently annoyed by Orb’s screaming. Vermon instantly pulled the cane out of Orb’s chest again with a savagery that made Orb’s whole body violently jerk.

Then, Vermon tore open Orb’s shirt, revealing the place of the bloody stab, and hit him with his open palm once, which calmed Orb and sent him into a fainting spell that night.

***

The next day, Orb opened his eyes and guessed from the brightness he saw with his left eye that it was noon. His shoulder blades sticking out under his thin torn shirt reminded him that his body laid on the bare floor of the isolation room.

Orb was unable to move his feverish body due to the severe pain in his chest and the untreated wounds on his bloody back. Thus, he reached his right hand beneath his torn shirt, wanting to feel the place of the stab that failed yesterday, and wondered how his heart survived it.

Then, he remembered Vermon’s forceful blow to his chest, which put him to sleep and possibly healed the wound and stopped the bleeding. It left an ugly lump like the mark of a crudely cauterized wound.

Simply touching the place of the wound, or even breathing deeply hurt Orb. He found himself pondering over the same old questions of how to get rid of slavery and captivity, and how he could get rid of a sadistic enemy who enjoyed saving him to insult, and torture him again and again.

At that moment, Orb felt a slight movement in the place. He neither tried to move his sick body into a sitting position nor turn his head to where the sound might be located. He could not see clearly anyway, but asked cautiously, “Who is here?”

The refined voice of Vermon’s friend came to him as he responded indifferently, “How did you know I was here?”

“Your long nails are hammering your metal glove impatiently.”

Vermon’s friend smiled in amusement, still leaning against the cold wall in front of Orb. He could see that Orb possessed a special kind of intelligence as he was more aware of his surroundings.

“Ah, excellent hearing," he smiled, “and perception.”

“...”

“I should cut them then,” he said before falling silent for a moment, “But if I did, how am I going to live?” he seriously added.

“What —do you use them for?” Orb felt a sudden threat.

“So many things…”

Orb heard a faint laugh, followed by the clattering of the man’s thick-heeled shoes approaching him. When he stood before Orb, the latter could discern his blue uniform, which was like that worn by Vermon, but a gold-embroidered black cloak settled on one of his shoulders.

Orb could also discern his tidy golden braids, his small, red mouth and sharp chin. He’s handsome.

“Who are you?” Orb, feeling more agitation, insisted.

“I am Akinos,” he said.

Without waiting for a reaction, Akinos went on, “If you do not want me to reveal who you are and what you have done in the Awa Temple, you must obey your master, Vermon, for what you have done is more abominable,” Akinos said in a low, serious tone, “you see, what you have started may fail because of your foolish attempts to rebel and kill yourself.”

Orb stopped breathing for a moment. His heart then, began pounding louder than any other sound in the room. He turned his damaged yet anxious eyes toward Akinos, who stood over him.

“You need to live until you see what you have planned come to pass,” Akinos asserted coldly.

Akinos then leaned toward Orb, whispering, “I will not protect you from your master as I did yesterday and as I am doing now, and it’s up to you,” he paused for a moment, then added, “he intends to kill you. I am warning you.”

He smiled, revealing sharp fangs in his mouth, which he quickly hid as he closed his lips, gazing at Orb’s tired features.

“You should calm down and try to recover,” Akinos told Orb before abruptly leaving the room disappearing into thin air, as he had first appeared.

In extreme physical and mental fatigue, Orb continued to listen to his heartbeats. Worried by the appearance of another seemingly cold and dangerous villain, Orb could not help believing that Akinos knew something about his past.

I couldn’t read his tone; was he threatening me?

He was unable to organize his thoughts, and that was when he completely collapsed from fever, body wounds, hunger, and unspeakable trepidation and exhaustion.

***

Notes

Uthus. [Pronunciation Guide: Oo-thuss]

Luba. [Pronunciation Guide: Lew-baa]

*Roaming Star is a term used to refer to individuals who possess the rare ability to infer directions and know locations with their eyes closed. They do not need the external help of their eyesight, compass, or maps.

Akinos. [Pronunciation Guide: Aki-noss]

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