The laughter wasn’t something to enjoy during rest. Amari had learned long ago that the cruel comfort of pleasant dreams only made reality all the more bitter when she awoke. Yet here she was. Her eyes were that of a child’s, smiling up at the face of her mother and father. They sat around a simple wooden dining table, with bowls of gruel, bread, and well water. There were small chunks of meat in the gruel, perhaps rabbit or field mouse. She couldn’t tell, nor did she really care to remember it much anymore. What was once a happy dream, a place of safety and comfort, was now nothing more than a biting reminder of what had been lost. Her eyes gazed at her father, trying to remember if her dreams accurately portrayed his features.


    His glowing red eyes radiated warmth as he smiled at her. No, that wasn’t right. His eyes were an icy blue that made her feel safe… No, that wasn’t right either. She watched as his eyes shifted color, trying to recall what they were. Until finally they took on a soft ember like yellow, and it caused her to relax. The horns on his head, and an impish tail the color of ash were large details she could recall. What was it the humans had called them? Demon-kin? Infernals?


    Abomination


    The word shot through her head painfully as she saw her mother with the same features. Though her eyes she remembered better than the others. A soft pink with blackened sclera, horns curled like goats, and a forked tail the same color as her crimson skin. Abomination was a strange word when to her, her mother just looked normal. Amari’s own ashen skin seemed normal to her, albeit different from the humans. Different from the elves or the ogres. Different than many that stood against creatures as vile as Demons. But they weren’t demons. She knew this. She had prayed to the gods and they had not smitten her when she entered their temple in the village. Who was the god she prayed to though? His name escaped her. Was it a goddess maybe?


    Carrathus


    The words split through her head as if someone screamed them. That wasn’t the deity she once knew. Carrathus was a god of war, battle, and honor. She was a child when this dream was real, what did she know of war? No, it must''ve been something else. One thing troubled her still. She looked at her older brother, and his face was blank. No eyes or mouth, no horns, nothing. The dream had long since forgotten his features, and now she feared she too was forgetting what he had looked like. But it didn’t really matter. The dream was coming to its conclusion.


    Suddenly she was warm. Staring at the burning remains of her home as the clanking of chains barely registered in her mind. Her parents lay slashed to ribbons just on the steps of their small little cottage. Their gardens uprooted, their storehouse looted, and their two cows butchered for meat. The clinking of metal finished with a sickening click as she felt a weight around her neck. It was choking as she was tugged away, barely able to understand what was happening as she was dragged by the neck to follow a black stallion. The chain around her neck connected to the gray gauntlet of some soldier atop the steed. What was he? Were his ears pointed? Was he an orc? No, he was too slender. Perhaps he was a dark elf? This whole thing was cruel, and so were they. No, were they? They said her kind were all corrupt creatures, but that wasn’t true. So perhaps she shouldn’t judge. Why was he doing this? Why were dozens of other soldiers in mismatched gear doing this to her village? She saw other children, teens, and young adults chained and being carted along. There was no understanding any of it.


    Wake up.


    Amari’s eyes opened upon hearing the sound of wet boots on rough stone. She sat up, holding a small knife and immediately rising from her slumber to ready the weapon. A human stood before her small campfire, hands raised. “Just me, it’s just me.” The young man said. His emerald like eyes watched Amari carefully. She too quickly took stock to ensure he was who he said he was.


    “Flint,” She said softly as she recognized his features. Curly brown hair covered in dust and debris. Scruffy facial hair, olive colored skin, and a scar across the cheek. She eyed it, counting one large mark with a darker center. The Warden of their prison had ensured Flint now knew when to make jokes, and when to remain quiet. She relaxed, sighing and holstering her knife before sitting on rough stone. They found themselves deep underground. In a labyrinth of mining tunnels and old ruins. The stench of sulfur, mold, and lavender filled her nose. Lavender? Amari sniffed the air loudly. “Why do I smell Lavender?” She asked with a strange monotone energy to her voice.


    “That would be me, I picked something up recently when they had a few folks in the menagerie scouting out some potential buys.” Flint offered before coming to sit near the small fire that burned quite warmly. He held his hands out toward it. His nails were a mess of dirt, dried blood, and bitten off portions of nail. “Besides what I''ve pilfered, I’ve got good news and bad news.”


    “Is it actually good news this time, or is it bad news followed by worse news that’s slightly funny?” She asked dryly before wrapping her arms around her legs and staring at Flint.


    Flint took a moment to think it over as he stared at her. Her orange orbs looked back at him expectantly, even with the terrible bags under them she seemed so alert looking over his shoulder constantly. A horrible burn scar traveled up her neck, stretching far down into the rags they both wore to protect some level of modesty. Amari’s barbed demon-like tail thumbed against the stone, giving away her impatience to hear more. He smiled, as if he was happy to see her. “You know, I always enjoy coming back to our hideout and seeing you here.”


    “You didn''t answer the question... Whatever. I told you I wouldn’t leave. Why would I?” She raised a brow, looking at him as though he tried to argue the sky was actually purple.


    “Lotta the rank and file say that. But another Specialist? Well you can’t really ever trust them.” Flint shrugged as his stomach grumbled. “Besides, it’s only been-”


    Flint stopped talking as a piece of stale bread was shoved into his face. Her frown spoke lectures despite what few words she chose to share. “You haven’t eaten yet.”


    “I’m fine, really, I’m just-” Flint stopped as the bread was practically shoved into his mouth.


    Amari frowned before letting go of the bread that Flint finally took hold of. “If you say ‘I’m just tired,’ I’ll hit you. Hard.”


    It caused a soft laugh to come from Flint. His aching body had seen more than enough trauma for today. Down in these tunnels where the rest of the slaves stayed it was a fight for survival. Food was dropped in only once every three days, and many were expected to fight to take it if they weren’t a part of one of the pseudo ‘families’ that controlled territory down here. But it was by design. The slaves here were not just workers, they were soldiers. Soldiers trained since childhood to follow orders and survive. Every day was a test down here in these old tunnels. Their owner ensured the weak and hesitant perished quickly. It’s what made Amari all the more confused why she cared so much for Flint.


    Theirs was a strange relationship of a few years now, born from a mutual distrust and hatred of others. From time spent in these dark tunnels beneath the earth as well. There was a time Amari wouldn’t have hesitated to slice the neck of anyone, young or old, for a chunk of bread. Now here she was, sharing resources with a human she could call… Something. Friend was too heavy of a word. There were many so-called friends down here that always wanted something. Her food. Her fuel. Her body. She would give nothing, and instead take from those that thought of her as an easy target. Her mind continued to swirl with dark thoughts before a piece of bread was thrown at her chest. It thunked lightly before falling to her leg where she grabbed it, preventing it from hitting the ground.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Her glare was brought up to Flint who grinned at her. “Did you hear anything I just said, or your head all up in the stars again?”


    That smiling face tore her glare away, and she couldn’t comprehend why. Instead a blank expression took hold again and she leaned back against the cold stone of this little room they camped in. She nibbled on the bread. “No. Continue please.”


    “My pleasure. I was saying that it’s rare to meet another Specialist that speaks truthfully. I’m so used to schemes, back tunnel deals, and well… You know how it is. It’s just nice you’re not like that.” Flint bit into the bread he’d been given.


    Specialist. That was their title, and for the longest time their name. Of course his name would be the brand on his arm. Specialist 24-13-04. Batch 24, number 13, designation 04, meaning his job was specialized in sabotaging defenses, repairing equipment, and laying traps. Meanwhile Amari’s eyes drifted to the brand on her arm. 25-56-07. Batch 25, number 56, designation 07; the number that told buyers she was a pack mule, a strong arm, and a shock trooper. First one in, last one out. Her kind had very low life expectancy on the battlefield, but Amari had lasted many years now. Too many. She couldn’t remember her age exactly, but somewhere in her mid twenties had to be correct. She might as well be a withered grandmother based on the usual lifespan of other seven''s down here.


    The number always made her chuckle quietly. She wouldn’t dare make the sound aloud, as such things had been beaten from her ages ago. But her small stature always made her confused why she had been chosen for this role. She barley came up to Flint''s shoulders with her horns. It had to have been her strength. The mage that owned them had long since invested himself in her cultivation when he noticed her prowess for hitting things as hard as she could. She gripped her hand tightly into a fist feeling the muscles pulse with power. She could lift a horse over her head, rip off an arm, or beat a dwarf to death with another dwarf; the last she knew all of this from experience. This unnatural power was flowing through her veins, all from… She stopped thinking. The memories of such enhancements caused her to freeze before she looked back to Flint. She didn’t want to think of this.


    “I don’t like liars. I said I would stay. I don’t lie, ever.” She huffed before finishing her piece of the bread. “What did you hear from the Menagerie?”


    “Well-”


    Amari held up a hand. “Please start with the bad news first.”


    Flint nodded, seeming to settle down and adopt a more serious look as he looked into the hungry flames of their starving little fire. “Word is, Count Odvos is here again.” He noticed Amari twitch. It was barely a flick, not noticed by any pair of lesser eyes. “He wants three Specialists. Along with a unit of twelve rank and file. Magus Lorminus is searching for the right group to handle this job. I hear it''s important guard duty."


    “I despise him.” She said flatly. "Count Odvos is a pig."


    “That’s the bad news.” Flint nodded.


    “And the good news?” She asked, not even a shimmer of hope in her voice for what this could be.


    “The good news is, Runt and Sabre died recently in a mining accident. Crushed to death by falling rock. After that, Brick was eaten by the pale ones in the deep tunnels, and finally… Twitchy was just poisoned to death by a disgruntled victim of his. Apparently she didn’t forgive him for making tainted drugs. So,” Flint trailed off as Amari looked back into the fire.


    “That pig that wouldn’t stop staring will more than likely hire me.” She sighed. The name of Count Odvos forced her mind to see his visage. Rotund, plump, wriggling fat mounted onto a man that wore too many imported furs with too much wartime gold. She was a soldier, and at one time had been leased to him to slay his enemies, guard his life and treasures, and obey without question. This disgusting beast knew she could not disobey, and enjoyed making a game of humiliation against an Infernal like herself.


    “Us.” Flint suddenly pulled her up from the muck of her pained thoughts. For a moment, Flint swore he saw what looked like relief in her eyes. “Us. The Count is cousin to the late King Heinsel. The King’s youngest son is said to be visiting soon in order to strengthen ties with Count Odvos. In the hopes that he’ll continue to defend the Eastern border from raids.”


    “So?” Amari inquired.


    “He’ll need an engineer. I’m one of the best here, and with Twitchy choking on his own liquefied lungs, I’ll more than likely be purchased too. We just need to make a good impression.” Flint said with a sudden proud smile. “Once we’re out, you know what that means.”


    Amari’s hands moved to the iron collar around her neck. It was the same as Flint’s. A sign of their status as property. She looked to his collar, and then back to the fire. “Freedom.”


    “Aye. But first things first, I need to perfect the unlock I’ve been working on. We’ll only get one chance so we’ll need to hope it works.” He folded his arms and leaned against the stone wall at his back. “What do you think?”


    Amari thought about the endeavor. Freedom? It was a pipe dream. A small coin of hope in an otherwise oppressive nightmare of hell in the realm. Besides, what would they do? They were soldiers. Flint was handy and could maybe be a blacksmith. But they didn’t understand money, they didn’t understand the world, its people. What would they do? What would they do when hunters were hired to find them? Slavery wasn''t necessarily permitted in this kingdom, but it always tainted the underbelly of black market trade. With a civil war going on among the King''s three sons and daughter, no one would care if a few soldiers showed up with collars around their neck. The ends always justified the means to royals. The questions continued to hammer into her head like an unrelenting storm.


    Quiet.


    That voice again pulsed through her mind as it wounded her. But she would dare not flinch.


    Flint also held still. The sounds of the tunnel were empty save for the odd dripping of water. But then they heard it. A stomp. They didn’t need another word as Flint and Amari quickly moved to cover their base. The fire was snuffed out instantly by Amari patting away at the small flame with her hands. Flint moved a stone to block the entrance, and then they waited as they pressed their body''s each up against the wall. The stomps continued before finally a snarl came through.


    Silence


    The voice ached her brain as she nearly held her breath. Amari and Flint pressed themselves up against the wall far from the entrance to their small little hole in the literal wall of these ancient ruins. The stomps continued as low growls came from some sort of creature just a few feet away from their hiding place.


    “Run!” A voice shouted in the tunnels.


    “Run! Run for your, AH!” A scream filled the tunnels, as the disgusting sound of flesh being hacked off echoed across the stone work. The sickening cries from the victim begged for mercy, begged for aid, and finally begged for a mother that would never come. Amari and Flint waited, refusing to make a sound or even flinch as they heard the blood splatter across the walls. More shouts and the sound of running as some unfortunate slaves tried to flee from whatever was hunting them.


    “Run run little piggies! I’ll carve you up and swallow your meat whole!” A monstrous voice cackled. Whatever it was, the beast sounded joyful, happy. It gave chase through the tunnels, its heavy foot stops sloshing through the water, and its mad terrible laughter echoing like something out of a nightmare.


    Flint and Amari waited. They waited, and waited, for what felt like hours. Their only source of comfort was the odd glowing patch of moss lightning up their little room. Finally a lack of screams confirmed they were free.


    “This base is compromised. Damn it, I didn’t think the Butcher would be this deep in. We had a good run here in this spot I guess. We’ll find somewhere else. Maybe we can link up in the Nexus and use some of the gems we mined up last week to get some travel rations. What do you think?” Flint asked as he looked at Amari.


    Flee. Run. Escape.


    The voice said what she wanted to hear, though even if it didn’t she wouldn’t have listened. She wanted freedom, and she would take it no matter who stood in her way. With a stern gaze, Amari looked at Flint and nodded. “We’ll escape. I’m with you, Flint."