The three of us were separated from the others twice a week, taken aside. They started slow, I suppose. The academy Photomancers showed us things, wove the light into illusions. Perhaps they were things from the imagination, or perhaps the horrors they showed us were from memory. Bodies. Hundreds of them. Thousands. An ocean of blood, thick with corpses like islands. Scavengers picking at dead flesh. Crows ripping out eyeballs, dogs fighting over a leg torn free in a ragged, wet squelch. This was what they called starting off slowly, adjusting us to the things we would see. After all, it wouldn't do if they newest little soldiers broke down at the horror of their first battle. Bastards! They started off slowly, but it was only the beginning.
Twice a week, every week, they took us three aside and showed us things, made us do things. All in the aim of desensitising us to the violence, to the pain, and to the death. All in the aim of removing us from the consequences of our actions. We were just the weapons, and a dagger does not feel guilt over the flesh it parts.
Twice a week for ten years.
All those times they told us Terrelans were animals, not people. All those times they told us Terrelans would murder and rape their way across our kingdom, slaughtering good, honest Orrans. When they told us we were heroes, bringing justice to the world by killing monsters. It was not our responsibility, that others would shoulder the burden of conscience. All those times they told us we were just weapons. We were arrows, the tutors and generals we would serve were the bows, and the Emperor was the archer. I believed them. I believed all the lies. I believed them because I wanted to. I wanted to stay in the academy, stay with Josef. I wanted to be useful, to the tutors, to the Emperor, to the Iron Legion. I believed the lies because I looked up to the tutors. I thought they had our interests at heart because we were children, and they were adults, and I trusted them. I believed them because I didn't know any better.
I am the weapon. They drilled that into us over and over.
See the horrors of war. It doesn't matter. The victims aren't people, Terrelans deserved to die. I am the weapon.
Kill an ant. Its life was meaningless, nothing. I am the weapon.
Kill a mouse. It was an animal, not really alive. Mindless and soulless. I am the weapon.
The corpse of a man, peeled open, innards on display, the smell of death nauseating. It was only a Terrelan, as numerous and worthless as the mouse. I am the weapon.
I am the weapon.
I am the weapon.
Twice a week, for ten years. A day of death, of pain, of punishment. A day of being forced to see and do things no child should endure. I don't know if I was ever truly innocent, but what little I might have had, they stripped from me.
I found Yorin where he slept in a small, private cavern on the nineteenth floor. It took quite a bit of asking around, and a few incentives, but it was useful information to know. I had already considered sneaking up to him in his sleep and putting an end to the uneasy partnership. Unfortunately, I wasn't sure I could kill him quick enough to get out with my own life. That, and I needed him.
Despite the danger of creeping up on a known murderer, I did it anyway. Crouching down in front of him, I wondered how easy it might be to kill a man while he slept. I had certainly been close to trying with Josef. Nobody wanted Yorin along, but we didn't have a choice. Unless we did. One swift rock to the head was all it would take. Put him out of all our miseries.
I was still considering how easy it might have been to kill him when Yorin's eyes flicked open. He was quicker than I, muscles practised to instant motion. Yorin leapt up and his hand closed around my neck, bearing me down onto the ground. I didn't fight back. I doubt I could have squirmed free even if I had tried, and I had no weapon with which to defend myself, only the icy blue of my eyes and the knowledge that Yorin wanted freedom as much as I did. That, and I was his only chance of that freedom he desired. Without me, he would rot down in the Pit for the rest of his dwindling days.
When his hand eased from around my neck I sucked in a deep breath and coughed, rubbing at the tender flesh he left there. You would think I would have learned my lesson about sneaking up on people long ago, but I still haven't. I think I like to see the shock and sudden fear in their eyes. At least these days I am better able to defend myself from retribution.
"Are we ready?" Yorin asked, standing up and crossing his arms. I surged to my feet and stared up at him with a slight smile tugging at my lips. Yorin scared me. Hardt wasn't wrong in calling him a murderer. I knew full well there was little between me and a painful death. But I refused to show Yorin that fear. Another man might have taken offence at that, but not Yorin. He didn't seem to care one way or the other. A true pragmatist. Along with a murderer. It made for a dangerous combination.
"Later today," I said "We have the way out, just collecting supplies."
"When?"
"After feeding down at the Trough. There's a tunnel on level ten, far side. Use the stairwells. The lifts won't be working." I took a deep breath. "I need you to do something first."
"I've already not killed someone for you, girl. What more do you want?" There was an edge to Yorin's voice. He always had an edge to his voice.
"I want you to not kill someone else," I said it with a grin, as though it might make the request more reasonable.
"Done. Can we go?" I think that was the closest I ever heard Yorin come to a joke. I gave it a smile at least.
"Fuck you. There's a foreman called Prig," I said. "I need you to beat him up. Badly."
Yorin raised an eyebrow at that. "You want your foreman out of the way so he doesn't search for us? Why not just kill him?"
I might have lied. I could have said his death would cause too many questions asked and we didn't want Deko looking too closely into it until we were long gone. Sometimes a lie is necessary. Sometimes a truth is better. "Because one day I'm going to return, and I want to kill the fat fucking slug-licker myself." It's just as important to tailor a truth to the audience, as it is a lie.
I expected him to smile, but Yorin just nodded at that, not a trace of emotion. "Done."
Gruel was carried to the Trough in vats. The bread was carried down in sacks. It was all handled by the foremen and Deko's captains. Hard work was usually done by the scabs, but Deko was wise enough not to trust any of us with the food. We were kept hungry for a reason and food was the highest form of currency to us down in the Pit. Deko wanted it that way because he controlled the food. One more way to keep the scabs in line. It was fucking diabolical.
I dragged Tamura down to the Trough with me, and we waited for the food to be delivered. A raised dais where the gruel could be spooned into bowls and handed to us. Where mouldering bread could be thrown into starving hands.
There were two captains manning the Trough. Burly men hand-picked by Deko for their ability to knock heads. I realised then where my plan was so likely to fail. I was the weakest link. I was small and not nearly strong enough, and I didn't know how to fight. I needed the captains out of the way and I wasn't strong enough to remove them.
I was still hesitating even as the first bowls of gruel were handed out. I was running out of time. I needed the scabs hungry.
"Calm before it breaks," Tamura said, his voice knowing and sage.