Raising her voice slightly, but careful not to raise it too loudly, she said again, “Thomas, is that you?” The body on the ground next to her did not respond.
If that’s Thomas, Kirsten thought, he’s not conscious.
She wondered if it was safe for her to attempt to take the bag off. She didn’t want the soldiers to see her try, because Kirsten had seen what they would do to those who didn’t obey their commands. One young girl with fiery red hair and green eyes had thrown a fit when the soldiers separated her from her mother. A soldier clad in dark leather armor lacking any insignia or clan identification shouted at her to calm down, but she kept screaming, kicking and clawing at him trying to break free from his vice-like grip. Without hesitation, the soldier raised his wide grimy hand and silenced her. Kirsten didn’t want to have a terrible thing like that happen to her, so she was careful to not make any noise.
Her hands were chained behind her back so to take the bag off her head she would need to get them in front of her body. She figured it was safe to attempt it because she hadn’t heard any footsteps come back since they tossed her onto the cold hardwood planks of the ship and closed a gate before walking away.
Carefully she moved her wrists down below her waist. She could now lift her legs up, one at a time, and backward through her cuffed hands. Trying once but instantly having to place her foot back on the ground, Kirsten learned balancing was a little tricky due to the rocking ship and being blinded by burlap. Once she had successfully moved her hands in front of her body, she quietly reached them up to her head and took off the bag covering her face.
Her eyes took a few moments to adjust in the dimly lit room. She could see bars on the cell door and knew she wasn’t going to escape anytime soon. Light peeped through cracks in the wood panels above her head. She was in the hull of the ship. Pushing her face up against the bars of the cell door, she looked in both directions down the dimly lit hallway running the length of the ship’s belly. Prison cells lined both sides of the narrow passageway. An open door at the far end revealed a set of stairs leading up to the ship’s deck.
Having assessed her surroundings, Kirsten quickly turned to the person who had been lying silently on the floor next to her. She could tell right away from the dark silhouette that this wasn’t Thomas. The person’s figure was slender in shape; it was a girl. Bound in the same way she had been, the girl also had a burlap sack over her head. Dropping to her knees, Kirsten lifted the bag off the girl’s head. To her surprise, Kirsten recognized the girl, but she couldn’t remember from where. It was hard to know for sure in the dark, but she thought she remembered seeing the amber-haired girl in the crowd at the festival cheering loudly for Anders.
Kirsten shook the girl lightly by the shoulder and said, “Hey, are you okay? Hey girl, are you alright?”
The girl weakly opened one of her eyes and made a feeble noise. By the look of her, she needed serious help. The left half of her face was bruised badly and one eye was almost completely swollen shut. Kirsten’s first instinct was to call for help, but she stopped herself before shouting. Trying to recall what her father had done to treat Anders after a steer gored him nearly ten years ago, she remembered Theodor bringing him inside and laying him on the couch. He kept Anders warm and made sure he was breathing until he regained consciousness. Then he made Anders drink a lot of water.
Kirsten searched the cell for anything that might be helpful to her. She noticed the girl’s clothes were tattered and wet. It was damp and cold on the floor of the cell so she decided to try to dry her off. A pile of wicker baskets and a moldy sack of grain were stuffed haphazardly in the corner of their cell. She found a dry spot along one of the cell walls. Flattening out several baskets, Kirsten placed them neatly on the floor. Satisfied, she took off the girl’s wet clothes and wrapped the two burlap sacks meant to be their blindfolds around her body like a blanket. Kirsten moved the girl onto the dry pad she had created.
Feeling better about the girl’s condition, Kirsten thought next about the challenge of getting some water.
I could wait until the soldiers bring us some, she thought. Then she figured they wouldn’t be so kind as to provide their prisoners with that luxury. Seeing small puddles of water on the floor of their cell, Kirsten had an idea.
This must be rainwater, she thought to herself. The water seeps in through these cracks when it rains. She looked up at the cracks in the wood above her head where thin strips of light shone through. Feeling the cracks with her fingers she was able to locate a spot in the board that was saturated. She knew this was where most of the rainwater dripped down.
Now how do I collect it if the rain comes? Kirsten asked herself. She looked around the small cell, but didn’t see anything that would hold water. At least we have this pile of moldy grain, she thought. This was the source of the stench she smelled. She sat down on the ground next to the girl and rested her head against the wooden wall that separated them from the next cell over.
I hope she wakes up soon, Kirsten thought. It’s awfully dull sitting here with no one to talk to.
After what felt like several hours to Kirsten, she heard someone begin to shout. It was a man’s voice. Judging by his Rolloan accent, Kirsten knew him to be one of the Rollo Island warriors who had been competing in the Grandwood Games. He was calling out the name Tabitha. He shouted over and over again. Fellow prisoners in the cells near him tried to hush him up, telling him the soldiers would come if he made too much noise. Shortly after the man began shouting, soldiers came running down the stairs. Kirsten heard them throw open the cell door.
The man’s demands to see his daughter at once went unanswered and Kirsten put her hands around the bars of the cell door and watched as they dragged him out of the cell, down the hull and up the stairs. Shortly after the man was taken way, she heard the footsteps of someone walking down the stairs and watched as a soldier locked the door to the empty cell. Kirsten knew the man they dragged away would not be returning.
What kind of people are these, she wondered, to rip families apart and beat them when all they want is to be reunited. Nobody raised in the great nation of Westland would treat their fellow humans with such cruelty. Kirsten wanted to find out if her brother, Thomas, was on the ship with her, but she wasn’t about to get killed over it.
After the Rolloan left, it was quiet and dark for a long time. She could hear the waves rushing along the side of the ship. It rocked up, at first making her feel sick, but after a while she got used to the constant motion. Eventually she heard another pair of feet thudding their way down to the hull and she feared for herself and the other prisoners, but to her surprise the person was carrying a bucket and a stack of empty bowls. They placed a small bowl outside each door and then spooned in fresh drinking water before returning to the deck above.
Someone must want us alive, Kirsten thought, curious at the random act of generosity.
She took a sip from the bowl. The cold water soothed her dry, throbbing throat. Kirsten had to force herself not to drink all of the water, saving some for the girl who still lay unchanged on the floor. If she was this thirsty now, Kirsten could only imagine how thirsty the girl would be when she awoke.
The bright light of day had faded, barely peeping through the cracks in the ceiling when the girl finally awoke. As she opened her one good eye, her face belied her confusion as she examined her surroundings. When the girl’s scan of the cell landed on Kirsten, she attempted to speak, but her voice was so hoarse Kirsten couldn’t hear her. She handed the girl the bowl of water.
Kirsten whispered to her as she took small sips from the bowl, “We have to be quiet. The soldiers have been punishing everyone who makes too much noise.”
The girl nodded, letting Kirsten know she understood.
“I’m Kirsten,” she said quietly placing her hand on her chest. “You were soaking wet and the ground is cold, so I took your wet clothes off and put you on the dry pad. I hope that was okay?” she asked, trying to make sure that the girl knew the soldiers weren’t the ones to remove her clothes.
The girl pointed a shaky finger at herself, opened her cracked lips and whispered in a hoarse voice, “Maija.”
Kirsten smiled, “I remember seeing you in the crowd at the competition.” The girl nodded and took a small sip from the bowl before placing it back on the floor.
“I was one of the people working the event,” she said quietly sounding a little better after drinking some water. “Thank you for helping me. I’m very grateful.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.” Kirsten said. “My cousin was competing in the games. He wasn’t in town when the attack began. He eventually found us but that was when…” she trailed off. “Well, never mind about that, we’re here now. Do you know anything about the people who took us and where they’re headed?” she asked.
“I don’t know who they are,” Maija said. “I saw their ships had black sails lacking any banners or sigil and they don’t wear any of the colors associated with the other nations of Kartania. Nobody saw them coming. Whoever they are and wherever they came from, they didn’t want anyone to know who they are associated with.”
“Why did they attack such a peaceful event?” Kirsten asked. “It doesn’t make sense. Grandwood has always been a peaceful place.”
Maija shrugged, “I don’t know. The attack came so suddenly. All I know is that they fought without honor. They killed unarmed men, women, and even children. I was trying to save a child when they captured me.”
“Is that how you got the bruises on your face?” Kirsten asked.
Maija nodded. As she nodded, a guard came down the stairs. They looked at each other wide-eyed and worried the soldiers knew they were talking. Nobody moved or made a sound as the soldier walked down the hallway. With a club gripped firmly in his hand, he looked into the cells for whoever made the noise he’d heard. Kirsten and Maija held their breath and tried to look asleep when the man peered into their cell.
They heard shouts coming from above. The soldier hustled back above deck, responding to the commotion and slamming the door behind him.
Within a matter of minutes, the ship began to rock more fiercely than before. Waves crashed over the deck and water spilled through the cracks in the ceiling. The shouts from the men above them were now drowned out by the howling wind.
“The sounds this ship is making don’t instill confidence,” Kirsten said. “I hope the ship doesn’t come apart at the seams.”
Night came and Kirsten and Maija closed their eyes hoping everything would be okay.
Kirsten awoke cold and dehydrated, her head throbbed. Water seeped through the crack overhead. She watched as the liquid formed into droplets and fell splashing into the small pool on the floor. The air in the hull was thick with damp wood and vomit. The storm had sent many people over the edge unsuccessfully fighting off seasickness. She tried to avoid thinking about the smell. Maija and Kirsten hadn’t been among those who became ill from the ship’s motion. Kirsten worried about some of the prisoners’ living conditions and feared that many of them wouldn’t survive. She could only guess at how long they would be locked up down in the ship’s hull. All she could do was take her captivity one day at a time. Make it through today, she kept telling herself. Just make it through today.
Once the ocean waves stopped crashing over the side of the ship, Kirsten and Maija heard rain begin to fall on the deck above. They figured the fresh water dripping through the cracks would be safe to drink. Using the bowl the guards had given them, they collected the rainwater. Over the course of the night, they collected enough to fill the bowl and took turns drinking its contents. Drinking the water helped Maija hydrate again and she seemed to be faring better than the day before.
