Crafters of Bone

Creators of Bone - Chapter Two Draft #1

Chapter Two

It was the clatter of chains that awoke Auden during the early hours of the next morning, her body crying out as she cringed sharply from the scrapping of the harsh metal against metal and stone and she was engulfed with the sickening desire to cry as her stomach churned. Over the years she had grown to despise the clunking, scraping sounds of metal. She loathed the sleek hush of leather cutting through air. She abhorred the choking, wet sobs and strained, strangling whimpers of her fellow slaves, men and women alike that now haunted her days. She execrated the meaningless work she was forced to carry out in silence and above all else, she hated how the absence of conversation left her alone within her own mind. She hated how it fabricated ghosts of her past to haunt her. She hated her mind and all it's dark, sadistic entireties.

The now distant chatter of chains wisped weakly by her ears without being heard as she lay on the familiar rough, woven matting of her bed a moment longer before she finally heaved herself upright. A heavy stillness fell over her as her eyes scanned over the familiar bare, stone room; the small chamber never seemed to change while she was locked away in solitary though there were little within it to be altered in the first place. In one corner rested a pile of burlap rags in desperate need of washing as they lay fermenting in months of sweat and blood and in another corner rested a splintered chamber bucket.

As her eyes continued to lazily trail over the room, they graced along the figure of the elder woman curled up on a mat across the room. Auden's skin seemed to burn and ache at the sight of the meek form, the woman's skin was tender and charred from the sun, the thick layer of grime and dirt coating her exposed flesh nearly completely concealed the deep gashes and scars that decorated the aged woman. Her thin, auburn hair streaked with grey was wound in knots around her small head and her small framed, skeletal shoulders were fully exposed as her burlap tunic struggled to hold up against her meager form.

In the two months that they had shared the small cell since her previous companion's reassignment, Auden had never seen the woman grace her chapped lips with even a single bit of food and had become convinced that her objective was to starve herself to death. Though, she could hardly blame the old woman for such ambitions. She even felt pity for her knowing that she evidently would be acquiring a new cell mate soon as the guards would soon be descending upon the woman to force food down her throat; they would never allow their master's precious property to perish.

Darkness fell over the cell and Auden looked up to see a member of the Perdita Guard standing in the entrance, strands of the early glowing light peering around the edges of his wide frame as he glowered down at her; silently beckoning her to him. A weariness set over her as her body suddenly felt heavy and exhaustion set over her before she gave a passive sigh and rose slowly to her feet, every bone and muscle within her sobbing as she stood straight to face the guard. Raising his chin, he gave a nod to acknowledge her obedience in response to his unspoken order and Auden narrowed her eyes as she was forced to choke back a scuff.

"My Lord Calvin has requested your presence," he uttered gruffly, clearly grumpy from being awakened early for this task.

A chill ran through her and her eyebrows shot up in surprise, her body going rigid and cold in a sensation she could only recognize as fear. Is this it, she wondered. Are they finally finishing me off since the prison had failed? Deep within her a meek part of herself seemed to burst into sobs of relief sending a choking tightness into Auden's chest and her head was flooded with a mist of aching.

The mistress known as Death was a mysterious and persistent bitch the entirety of Auden's existence; her own personal stalker hiding around corners on the backs of self obsessed men with knives, tugging the strings of the motions for every assailant the young fighter had been forced to fend off, thriving off the games she had played with her exhausted victim. The presence of her stalker had interjected itself into her daily life bringing an eerie familiarity of them to her as she became accustomed to expecting them to be hidden around every corner. A constant reminder that at any moment her stalker could descend upon her and snatch her away. Always watching, waiting, taunting But did this mean Auden was ready to die now?