Brynn cautiously opened her fatigued eyes. Slowly, she focused upon her hand which lay beside her face. Her thoughts were slow and jumbled. She had been sleeping, she realized. As she struggled to wake herself, she caught scent of the foul odor surrounding her. She was no longer in the torture room. A muffled moan escaped her lips when she attempted to sit up. She closed her eyes as exhaustion overwhelmed her. She struggled not to think of her pain, but the more she did, the more it hurt. She tried to sit up once more, only to collapse back with dizziness.

The clumps of wet hay beneath her became apparent suddenly, and her body twinged with pain as she attempted to move to a more comfortable position. She turned slightly and caught sight of her fellow prisoner. A soldier dressed in a black leather uniform. No, not just a soldier. A knight, she thought distastefully. What's a knight doing in here? Brynn studied the knight who sat solemnly looking into space, his features lifeless and his eyes unmoved. He had to be the youngest soldier ever to be raised a knight. His pale skin was smooth and without any visible wrinkle. His eyes were a dark shade of green, almost black in the light of the dungeon, like two onyx stones placed on a sleek sheet of ivory. A small tuft of black hair stuck out from the beneath his helmet and his thin pink lips were almost rosy like a woman's, making his white skin seem even more pale. As she watched him, her loathing for the knight lightened. There was a defeated air about the knight, like all hope of ever seeing the light of day had been severed forever. Why is he here?, she thought with vacant compassion. For that matter, why am I here?

Her forehead furrowed in concentration as she tried to recall the events of the day, her mind fuzzy with weariness. She had been cleaning Jerell's quarters that morning when he came in looking his usual smug and egotistical self. She was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the hard, stone floor with a scrub-brush. She tried to dramatize the importance of her work with false concentration to avoid contact with her contemptible overseer. Perhaps he would lose interest and leave her be if she was working hard enough.

Brynn felt his eyes upon her and shivered slightly. His very presence caused anger and resentment to reside in her. She hated him with a quiet bitterness which, fortunately for her, Jerell didn't know was there. He grew more demanding as time went by and he liked to belittle her frequently. Silently she was thankful that no others were present. His aggression was greater when others were there to witness her passiveness. She dreamed of escaping whenever he would begin his list of commands, but knew there was no way out of it. She was a slave of Dackar and there were no rights for slaves.

He remained standing there, looking down upon her. She was tempted to look in his eyes to read his mood, but her disgust of the man stopped her. There was no need to add to the already sickening feeling she felt in her stomach when he was present. She heard him shift slightly and then clear is throat. "Hmm," he started, slowly. His manner seemed courteous, almost kind. "You're looking altogether lively today."

Brynn stopped suddenly, her heart racing with suspicious fear. Her body stiffened. She heard him move and felt the heat from his body close to her. She didn't turn her head to confirm his actions, she knew his intentions. She moved her eyes quickly about the room searching for something she could use for defense. She was terrified. She wondered if anyone was nearby to hear her scream and if anyone would come to help if she did, instead her grip tightened around the stiff brush. She didn't want to be the helpless victim. She turned to face him.

He was standing above her, his gaze moving slowly about her body. Fear and repugnance grasped her. She could not, no, would not tolerate such treatment. She could deal with his commands and his ridicule, but she would not allow his advances. "Get away from me," she whispered with loathing.

Jerell's face hardened at her insulting refusal. He pursed his lips and his brown eyes narrowed. "How dare you speak to me like that!" he spat and lunged forward to grab her. Without thinking she raised the scrub-brush and struck him on the side of his head immediately causing blood to stream.

He stumbled back, bewildered, and lifted his hand to the wound. "Woman!" he shouted in child-like fury. "I can have you killed!"

Brynn was stunned with her reaction, she could hardly believe herself. She sat back on her heels, a little confused but more amazed with herself than anything. Jerell stormed out of his quarters without a further glance at the slave woman. Soon after, he sent his guards to punish her.

Brynn shuddered in recollection of the beating. She fought back tears of frustration that made her eyes sting. She knew that she had lost consciousness shortly after the first few lashes, but also vaguely remembered coming through the dungeon. Something had happened to anger her when she arrived at the cell, she recalled, but her mind was unclear of what. It almost seemed like a dream, maybe it had been a dream.

She gingerly sat herself up making sure her back wasn't against the wall. The pulsing pain from the lashings would not go away for some time. She may not be able to sleep on her back for several weeks, it stung so bad. She could feel where the blood from the wounds had seeped through her dress, it stuck to her like skin. Briefly, she wondered if they took the time to wash her back after the lashings, or apply bandages at least. She could not recall either way.

She looked about the cell, finally taking in her surroundings. The stone walls were filthy and damp with small lumps of moss creeping in through various cracks. The lighting was dim from the torches held along the walls outside the cell. The dungeon was relatively quiet, except for the constant dripping of water coming from the ceiling. She must have slept the whole day away. Brynn took in a deep breath, noting the rotting smell that drifted about the prison. She released her breath in a long sigh as she settled herself carefully. Her body was exhausted and it ached intensely from the beating, but slowly she would regain her strength. She found herself wishing for the curing of the Leasunngs, those loathsome priests of Dackar. Still, a bit of their curing would be appreciated at this point. Even some of Zarene's terrible tasting teas would soothe her right now. She forced herself not to think of her people, she was never going back. She hadn't the means, though she felt she could almost sell her soul to the Leasunngs for a chance to get away from this slavery.

As she let her muscles soften, she pushed the thought out of her mind. Gradually, her mind focused as she recalled that an unpleasant scene had taken place earlier. It was between the knight and someone else. The knight was enraged about something.... Jerell! Jerell had been there! Brynn's face darkened as she thought of him. Jerell had said something cruel to the knight, not like it was unusual for him to be cruel, but to a knight? She squinted at the knight for a better examination in the dark dungeon. He seemed strange, blank in expression. She remembered that Jerell had said something that caused the guard to leap back suddenly. Brynn looked into the face of the knight, his features soft, like a young man. I wonder, how old is he? A small yawn escaped her as she rolled her head lightly to gather her senses. He can't be very old, his face is so smooth.... Brynn's vision blurred slightly and she felt her body soften even more. She dropped her head slowly, willing to fall asleep.

"He's a girl!" Brynn's memory jolted herself awake as she mentally replayed the guard's dismayed comment. She. She's a girl, Brynn corrected. A female knight! She stared again at the strange knight. How did a woman become a knight? She had never heard of such a thing. She found that her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. And he, I mean she, had tried to help me, Brynn remembered suddenly. She had stood up for me, but I rejected her. That's why I was angry. I thought she was a knight! One of this kingdoms' wretched henchmen! But she is a knight.

The knight sat quietly, oblivious now to the peasant woman. Brynn could see that the female knight was indeed downhearted, though a knight rarely exposed emotions like ordinary people. She wanted to ask the knight what had happened to have her end up in prison. She wanted to apologize for her harsh reaction to the knight. Not like it would mean anything to her. Brynn dropped her head somberly. The words of a slave mean nothing to a knight.

Brynn let out another sigh and closed her eyes softly, concentrating on her situation. Soon enough a guard would come to bring her back to her quarters and she would be summoned by Jerell to beg forgiveness for her foolish behavior. She wanted to spit at the thought of begging Jerell for anything - even her release. No matter how long she would have to be a slave of Dackar she would never beg for anything.

Three years it had been since she had left her people and abandoned their customs. Two since she was forced to become a slave when she was caught stealing fruit from a wealthy merchant's cart in the great city of Lesroc. The punishment was a season of slavery at the Royal Castle, but Jerell had taken a fancy to her and quickly made her own of his own slaves - for being a foreign thief he had said. She knew it had to be for more reason than that, the day's earlier events had confirmed that. He had waited a good long time, waiting until she was cowed enough, before he made his intentions clear. She beat her fist against the hay. How she would love to find that the good Councilman had suddenly taken ill! It was a shame that that other Councilman had to be the one to be killed in that hunting accident last season and not Jerell! Jerell's advancement in the kingdom's wretched government had made his commands on her more brutal. He was an even bigger man now and there would be none to stop him from his cruelty, save the king himself.

She found she was grinding her teeth and forced herself to relax. One day her slavery would end and until that day came she would deal with what she had. She tried to convince herself that having a warm room, a full stomach and clothes on her back was good enough to outweigh the bad, but she knew it for a lie. She would rather go back to her people and subject herself to their punishment than be a slave in Dackar. This kingdom was despicable and evil. Every one of them twisted by the Great Destroyer himself with their outlandish religion, Encartne. Though she no longer held a religion herself since she abandoned her faith along with her people, these peoples' beliefs were ridiculous, not to mention evil. She had been tutored by their priests enough to know the basis of Encartne and the more she learned the less she understood. Imagine - dying and being born again, like some vicious never ending cycle. Ridiculous!

No matter what her head told her about being patient and waiting for her release, her heart told her it was time to find a way out. She would even feign interest in their silly religion and state that she wished to become one of those crazy priests to get out of slavery. Though she doubted that would be enough for Jerell to allow her to be free. That man would sell his soul to the Great Destroyer just for a chance to have her as his slave for the rest of eternity. She had to find a way out, she had to escape. She remembered her first attempt at escape and shuttered with the thought. That had not been taken lightly. The bruises and cuts she felt now where but a scratch in comparison to what she had received when she was caught in the back of a merchant's cart trying to escape. The damn fool had stopped the cart suddenly to speak with a pretty maid while exiting the castle gates causing the tarp that had Brynn hidden to come loose and expose her. She shivered again, pushing away the memory. She had to find another way. She looked over at the solemn knight again and decided suddenly to take a chance. It was a small hope, but she would take it.