Page 1 of A Broken Promise

PART I

ABYSS

1

“Line up!” The guard’s loud voice echoed off the cold, stone walls of our cave. I quickly stood up. Chains clunked in a wave down the long tunnel, rattling in my ears. Viyak was already standing motionless by my side. We were both utterly exhausted, yet alive—better off than many of the slaves tonight.

I took a long breath; the stale air was thick with unease.

“What’s going on?” I carefully whispered.

“I don’t know. But there are a lot of guards,” Viyak replied, his voice anxious.

I could feel his nervousness from the way his body locked, his shoulders squared. He was only in his early thirties, though the ruthless sun and slavery had aged him tremendously.

Viyak and I had been chained together since my very first breath in the Rock Quarries. He was the reason I was still alive. His bright, blue eyes kept my despair at bay. His blond, bearded smile was the only source of solace in my life.

Viyak was the longest survivor here, with over three years of slavery behind him. To me this meant two things: first, he knew all the guards and the intricate details of surviving in the quarry, and he kept me safe because of that. Second, it meant that there was no escape. Atfirst, I couldn’t fathom that fact, and yet, day after day I opened my eyes to this new reality. Three hundred and ninety-six days of lukewarm hell.

I thought about escaping at first. My mind created one scenario after another, desperately trying to solve this impossible puzzle. But even if you somehow unshackled yourself from your partner and avoided the guards and their hounds, there was only one large bridge leading out of the Rock Quarries and then, there was the large Rocky Mountain descent. Those snowcapped mountains held the highest peak in Esnox, and we were deep within their core.

There was no escape.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

No.

The worst part was watching the slow deaths of the attempters. They were always brought back half dead, tied up to metal poles in the center of the Quarry, and whipped until there was little flesh left on their bones. Then they were left to rot with no food or water under the high-altitude sun, eaten alive by swarms of bugs and flies.

If Fate was on your side, you’d last only a few hours, maybe a day, but if not—a week. Then your body was left to decompose in the hot sun for another week to remind us all of what our luck would be should we think to flee.

I couldn’t forget them even if I tried.

It was never the soul scarring screaming as they were whipped that rang in my ears each night. It was the begging after. The desperate, agony-filled pleading for a sip of water or the soul churning hallucinations as they welcomed Death. The rotting smell of the human flesh haunted me with each breath I took.

I never believed in human gods. Growing up with my two-hundred-year-old elf maid—the only family I’d ever had—even the concept of them was foreign to me. But in those moments, I prayed to them. I begged whatever gods there were to spare the agony-filled, poor souls and grant them relief.

Because the rest of us were helpless.

The few slaves that tried helping those in torment die, carried their own deep scars from lashings as the result.

That is, if they survived the whipping…

“Kahors,” Viyak said with terror in his voice. Hairs on the back of my neck stood up as the meaning of his words settled in me. A shiver went through my body. Suddenly, the large main chain that linked all the slaves for the night got pulled. One by one, we were dragged out into the darkness.

My lungs welcomed the fresh summer night breeze, yet I couldn’t take a full breath. My chest tightened with uncertainty.

I was facing Viyak’s tall, bony back, unable to see anything. Hushed whispers fluttered around me as unrest rose. Exhaustion completely vanished when my eyes caught a glimpse of them.

Kahors.

I wasn’t sure if they were men, women, or something else entirely. Whatever they were, they wore long, silvered robes with a deep hood on top, covering most of their face except for the mouth and chin. Elongated sleeves covered their arms, the ends of them extending down to the floors.

They oozed with rot and decay. I fought the urge to gag as their stench made me nauseous.

Wide in frame and yet so unnaturally thin, the Kahors’ figures floated soundlessly just a couple of inches above the ground. One of them stopped straight across from a girl no more than a few years younger than me. I had seen her a few times around the Quarry. She was new, but a hard worker. I respected that.

Even covered in dust and sunburnt skin, she was beautiful. Striking. Big, plush lips and dark, hazel eyes. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back in a large thick braid.

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