Curse of the Jackalmen

Pain

i am ashamed that I ever wrote like this.  I will rewrite when I have tiime

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(Syn's pov)

Antagonizingly slow, the veil of pain lifted and I gradually.became aware of my surroundings. The first.thing I noticed, was that I was lurching.

Was I on a ship? No, I'd be seasick if that was the case.

On a horse? Or Donkey? Unlikely.

My feet were dragging.

Then, I noticed the lithe frame pressed against me, half dragging, half carrying me. I opened my eyes to see loyal, steadfast Hemite, her thin countenance set, stoically supporting me. After wiggling my toes, I started moving my feet, helping her.

She obviously noticed and glanced at me, nodding.

We soon arrived at a low, dark building with.thick wood shutters and a matching door. I racked my memory as to who lived there, and what Hemite would want with them.

She knocked.three times, and a voiced echoed.out,."beat it! We're closed.today!"

Hemite.snorted.and shot something back, my ears slowly started ringing, soon it was deafening. Weakly, I swayed, staggering against her until my vision.clouded over.

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(Hemite's pov)

Relief flooded me when we finally made it to Karo's. Karo was an old friend of mine from my days at gladiator school. We had been shipped to Egypt on the same boat. He is rather like an older brother to me. When I was younger he tried to keep me out of trouble. When unsuccessful, he was the one who patched me up. Now I've seen less and less of him, but old ties stay strong in our world. By our world, I mean the slave's world. Here, the rule is "once a friend, always a friend." Meaning, if someone is kind.to you, years later, you can expect to still feel a friendly attitude from them. Our relationship delves beyond that. We would die for one another.

It was these facts sketched across his face in the form of concern when he opened the door and saw me supporting a half conscious Syn, blood dripping off us onto the parched earth.

"My Gods! What did you do this time?!?" His reaction to the sight of us would.have been comical, had the cloud of anxieties and unanswered questions not been hanging around my head. We staggered inside, and lay Syn upon a clean table. The walls of the shop were covered in shelves and shelves of labeled jars. In each, dead animals and body parts sat in brine until some queer Egyptian treatment called.for them.

Karo's master, the owner of the shop, practiced traditional Egyptian medicine. An example of this would be a popular cure for eye problems, shoving a mashed up pig's eye with a few other things mixed in, into your ear! 

Fortunately, Karo had been taught in the ways of Hippocrates, and did nothing like that. He disinfected their wounds, stitched them up with clean linen threads, and wrapped them in bandages. Whilst he worked, I told him of the monstrous creature that seemed to have spawned from the pesky lingering shadows of nightmares.

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[(a/n, this is where it became harder to write.... Please tell me how I did)

[Syn pov]

The expression on Hemite's face grew grimmer and more stoic with each step toward home. Soon, it seemed to be an effort for her to shove one foot in front of another. She wavered at the base of the sandstone steps to the door.  

"Hemi, come on." I ordered in a tired voice. All I wanted was to get to my bed and collapse. Deep down, I new I should feel sorry for her, soon she might be facing the wrath of my mother, but I was too tired and frustrated to be nice. When she wavered still, I grabbed her upper arm and pulled her forward, breaking her out of the apparent trance. Her wince reminded me I wasn't the only injured one, slackening my grip, I replaced pulling with leading.

Upon reaching the front door, I released Hemite and rapped my knuckles once upon the door. When my hand was raised to hit it a second time, the door was swung open by my mother. Eyeing my freshly bandaged chest, and shredded, bloodstained tunic, she breathlessly whispered,

"What happened?"

Wrapping an arm around my.broad shoulders, she ushered me inside, Hemite following obediently in our wake. She lead me to the.base of the stairs.

"Go up to your room dear, try to get rest! I'll bring some food up later!" Her voice was soft and warm, soothing my confused mind. But that disappeared when she turned to Hemi. My slave's face appeared emotionless, but beneath that, anger and fear bubbles and seethed. Locking my eyes with hers, I tried to give the support and warning I had not the time to say.

With a voice like a snake's hiss, my mother spoke to Hemite. "As for you, Slave, go wait in the anteroom." With a nervous gulp, Hemite.obeyed.

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(Hemi's pov)

On my way to the anteroom, I did the only thing I could think of that might ensure my survival; I prayed. I have rarely prayed.in the past six years. But today, it seemed necessary.

"Dear Gods, Zeus, Athena, Hera, Hermes, Artemis, and the others whose names I cannot recall. Please temper the anger and..." I never finished. Kyripatra stalked in at that moment and pushed me against the wall angrily.

"What happened?" Her voice rang with steel.

"I-I can explain....." I mumbled meekly.

"I care not for your petty excuses!" She roared, throwing me onto the floor like a ragdoll. She is deceptively strong, and I am letting her throw me about. To resist would only prolong and increase the inevitable pain.

"Then why ask?" I grunt through gritted teeth. I instantly regret my cheek when her.foot catches my in the stomach.

"What was that slave?" She spits, each syllable announciated with a swift kick.

"Nothing!" I half whimper, half groan. Writhing on the floor, am relieved by her leaving footsteps, and stand back up, examining myself for major injuries. Only thing I notice is that a line of red has begun to seep through the bandage. Then, angry hands shoved me against the wall again. I cursed myself for neglecting to hear the angrily pounding footsteps of Kyripatra returning.

"What kind of pitiful excuse for a bodyguard are you?" She snaps disdainfully. In her hand, her riding crop.gently swings. It is made primarily of leather, a foot long handle ending in a braided rope. After about ten inches of braid, the crop is tied in a large knot. Off of the knot hang the three leather straps. To be on the wrong end of this is truely a painful experience.

The first blow catches me across the shoulder of my right arm.

Adding insult to injury, she laughs and growls, "Hah. You can't even.protect yourself!" My bloody bandage.must have finally caught her interest.

She hits me again, this across the face. Gasping in pain, I fall heavily to my knees. She grabs me by my braided brown hair and flings me sideways. I struggle to my knees, willing myself to keep.from screaming as the blows continue. She's saying.....something... I really can't tell. The pain has deadened my senses to the point I'm not sure when a blow hits my back.or my chest.

Each new strike is just a new wave.on my sea of agony. I don't know how long it lasted. All I know is that eventually, no new pain came, and the inky blackness of unconsciousness finally claimed me.