Crafters of Bone

Crafters of Bone - Chapter One Draft #2

"Possess no Past. Exist not in the Present. Look to no Future."

Code of the Basilisks

Chapter One

It was incredibly difficult for Auden to not loathe bees.

The repetitive, ecstatic buzzing of the large bee circling overhead as she lay still along the length of the rough, woven mat prickling against her flesh seemed to echo vehemently within her ears; only to be broken by the occasional startled impact of the trifling creature smacking into the stone wall. Deep, even breaths entered and excelled from her lungs as she fought to subdue the eruption of primal madness that demanded to let loose upon the vile beast and it's demonic buzzing. Venomous frustration flailed within her as she fumed over how the minuscule creature had managed to embed itself so deeply underground in the first place.

With a soft groan of reluctance, she turned over and struggled to focus on the sounds smothered by the buzzing, she concentrated upon the sounds echoed, harsh clanking of iron pickaxes upon resilient stone above her. The soft rustling of people in constant motion throughout the fort and the soft murmur of collective morning chatter reverberate through the caverns and she was even able to make out the faint cry of gulls as they glided through the air and sky over the courtyard above her.

As she lay in silence, she stretched her hand out inattentively, fingertips gliding steadily along the warmth of the stone wall coated in an even layer of dirt. A soft sigh of annoyance escaped her; it amazed her that even while embedded under the earth, the heat of the radiant sun still managed to pierce through the surface and into the stone, filling her cell with an undesired haze of humidity. Though despite the painful isolation of her confinement, she was certain it was still a better than shuffling through the blazing heat occupying the air above her from the merciless onslaught of the sun beating down upon the bustling courtyard.

Another moment of hesitation passed before she finally heaved herself upright, chains clattered passively around her as every joint and muscle within her protested the action as she made a stubborn effort to ignore their cries and she let out another soft breath. The air surrounding her remained still save for the occasional soft clanking of metal and whispered shuffle across the stone as her hand reached up to give a gentle touch to her shoulder with her fingertips, pausing before cautiously caressing her fingers along the rough patches of aching skin. Despite her attentiveness, the meager graze of her fingertips upon the swelling sore on her back sent waves of shuddering pain through her body, her fingers immediately jerking from the sensitive, heated skin surrounding the fresh wound carved into her flesh.

A thought to pray to the gods for protection against any sort of infection flashed through her mind brought a short, dry laugh to flee her aching throat. The mere inclination of doing such a thing made her scuff as she was certain that her pleas to Mirrseh would fall upon deaf ears. The years had proven that the Goddess of Mercy and Guidance had no time nor sympathy for criminals suffering from their punishments; her fellow divine seemed to share a similar view.

An aggravated growl emanated from her gaunt stomach as she glanced around her narrow, stale cell; her eyes moving along the base, windowless walls and floors scattered with hay of varying age and decay before resting upon the thick, steel door that peered down upon her with a small, horizontal window casting the gentle glow of flickering lanterns into her cell. Her hands moved from her shoulder down along her arms as she brought them tightly around herself, disgust shivered through her as she felt the heavy layer of grime and filth that coated her once fair skin and her damaged muscles now throbbing through the muck.