Awoken

It was hot. God, it was hot. The presence of others curled up around me was overbearing but they were just blurred shapes to my weak eyes. A cold, rough hand grabbed my shoulder and dragged me from the heat. I didn’t know where I was, even who I was as all of us were pushed and shoved down a long, dark corridor lined with doors on either side. At the very end of the corridor, we were herded into a brightly lit room on the left. My vision began to clear and I looked around the room at the people surrounding me; all men, all naked like myself, muttering to one another in confused tones. Who was I? How did I get here? Ok, think. Just calm down and concentrate. Start simple. What’s your name? What is it? Come on, what’s your damn name?! The inability to recall such simple information filled me with dismay and as I thought on I realized I couldn’t remember anything before waking up just a few minutes beforehand. Who am I? Do I have a family? Do I know these men? There was sudden activity at the front of the room, drawing my attention away from the questions that had bombarded my mind. A tall man wearing some kind of armour, not the Knight kind, sort of padded plates over his back uniform, was passing out bundles of clothes. Thank god. I’m sick of showing these guys my ass.  It didn’t feel like they were trying to help us, more dominate us but everyone took the clothing willingly and gratefully. Bet he’s a total asshole. He looks like one.  After all forty or so of us were dressed, all matching in black pants, T-shirts and chunky boots fastened around our ankles and calves, we were told to leave and follow a guard who was waiting outside. We did as we were ordered, still dazed and confused. What the fuck is going on? Where are we? A sword was thrust into my hand as I excited the room. “What the hell’s this for?” Apparently questions were not allowed and the giant fist that hit me made me stumble back a couple of paces. I retaliated without thinking but was quickly hauled away. The blood trickling down his disfigured face gave me some satisfaction and I smirked as I was forced to join the others. We congregated in front of a pair of large, iron gates. Some words were uttered by a guard but I was too far back to hear. The gates opened without a hand been laid on them and we were hastily ushered through them. The guards remained behind as we ascended the steep, stone staircase. There was a hole in front of us. No not a hole, more like a crack. A crack in the stone that was filled with light, making it impossible to see what lay beyond it.

                The blazing Sun stung our eyes as we dragged ourselves, single file, from the fracture in the ground and out into a scorching desert. An army of hundreds, maybe thousands, in perfect formation stood a little way away from us. Their eyes glowed amber and their skin flacked as if it had been dried and bleached by the fireball in the sky. Primitive looking swords and spears in hand, an almighty roar rose from the legion. I tried to warn the men around me, tell them to get in some sort of formation themselves but there was no time. The army ran through us, cutting down men like they were made of air. We didn’t stand a chance but I wasn’t prepared to give up or go down without a fight. I gripped the hilt of my sword, raised it and was surprised at the ease with which combat came to me. I didn’t and still don’t remember any training but something came naturally when we were out there and has done every day since. My mind remained still as I slashed and hacked at the enemy with the cold steel blade that would quickly become an essential friend by my side rather than a mere acquaintance. Many of the men I awoke with died that day. Their blood stained the sand along with the enemies’. It soaked into the ground like some kind of sick substitute for the water the sky refused to provide. When the last of the legion fell, I and the five other survivors picked our way through the bodies and retreated into the fracture and back down the stairs we had so naively climbed.

                I pushed my blood soaked hair from my face, smudging even more blood across my forehead in the process. My top was torn, a rag that hung from my shoulders. There was a number of entry wounds in my sides and stomach and for the first time I felt pain as I pulled a small dagger out from under my ribs. A man approached me. This enormous figure didn’t just intimidate you but suffocated you with the malevolent energy that poured from him. He wore an ancient looking wrap, it’s leather hammered by time and stained with crimson. Above the waist he was bare, muscle burdened and covered in brands, symbols from some long lost language. Long, dark hair rained down over the veins that protruded from his shoulders. “You have proven yourself worthy of my army. Many warriors will follow your orders as you will follow mine. This way.” His guttural voice commanded respect and submission. I again questioned my identity as I followed behind the huge being. Why can’t I remember anything? I was growing more and more irritated with the seemingly unanswerable questions I asked myself. We passed under a stone arch and hot air caressed my skin in an uncomfortable welcome. I found myself standing on a wide platform, looking down on nine levels carved into the surface of a rocky abyss. Screams echoed from every level; screams of agony, screams of sorrow and repent, screams for mercy. The scene was haunting but strangely barely affected me; no pang of pity or repulsion at the torture in front of me, I was numb and I suddenly stopped wondering my name and began questioning if I was even human to begin with.

Copyright Anna Smith 2020