The long march

At the very least, what happened with Awa seemed to have terrified the other slaves into giving Gab a wide berth as he foraged.

Still, it wouldn't last.

Once they found out she was sick, they’d be back for revenge.

He checked the contents of his pouch, following the salves out of the foundry as it started up once more.

Not nearly enough to help Awa, and tomorrow there might be nothing.

Gab paused on the path outside the foundry, a slave bumping against him as he saw

the long march beginning, slaves trailing away below.

How bad could it be?

Gab joined the line, shuffling into a gap between the slaves and joining the swaying march below.

No, it didn’t matter.

Gab clenched his fists, head rising with resolve.

He didn’t have a choice.

“Go back, human tribe.”

Gab spun around as a hand gently touched his shoulder, the scarred arm leading to the lined face of a beastman.

“Should not choose death.” The beastman shook his head at Gab.

“Human tribe have pack now, with Moon’s daughter.”

Gab recognised him, a slave from his pen. He’d seen Awa talking with his woman.

“Yes.” Gab whispered. “That’s why.”

The old beastman lifted his hand with the faintest nod of approval, no longer attempting to pull Gab away.

“Understand.” He grunted, walking in step with him along the trail dug through the stone for what seemed like an eternity.

“Awa.” The old beastman said softly, frowning as he struggled for words. “Not yet sick.”

“But she is. She is sick.” Gab said , struggling to remember the word Awa had used. “Gahk. Awa Gahk.”

His hands clenched by his side in frustration. “Because of me.”

“No, does not yet have it….” The old beastman’s eyes softened as he shook his head.

“…Sickness of heart.”

Ah.

“You’re right.” Gab nodded up at him as they neared the edge of the great abyss, nearly sheer walls that trailed down into the dark. “She doesn’t.”

The beast man pointed down to where a line of slaves were vanishing over the edge, his voice solemn.

“Here. March begins.”

Gab felt his legs buckle as he leaned over the edge, watching in disbelief as slaves began to descend down the cliff, tiny specks that vanished into the dark below.

“Recently, from the abyss, Voices no tribe understand. Voices of the dead. ” The old beastman paused, looking intently at Gab one last time. “Bad Omen. Many will die.”

He grabbed a hold of the legs, swinging his legs over.

“Shame if human tribe is one.”

And yet despite his warning, Gab hung his shaking legs over the lip of the abyss, clutching a rope anchored into the dusty rock face as he followed.

For her.

…

Gab clung to the rock face as he was buffeted by the wind, the stone cold as he pressed his cheek against it and tightened his numb hands.

And then, it passed, the line of slaves moving once more as the wail of the wind receded into the darkness.

His Foot.

His hand.

Gab struggled to keep the old beastmen in view, copying where he placed his hands and feet without regard for the horrible cuts the rock was inflicting.

He was slowing down for Gab. Not much, but enough.

“Haa”

A muffled gasp as one of the ropes beneath Gab gave way, and a slave fell into the abyss, his voice lost in the wailing wind.

Unable to spare him a second glance, he kept climbing.

Again.

His foot. Slipping on stone slick with water as it began to condense high above.

His hand. Resisting the urge to shield his eyes and nose as drizzling rain burned his eyes and nose, tainted by the dust around them.

Again and again he stepped, entering an almost trancelike state as he followed the old beastman.

Gab grunted as a foot was placed on his shoulder, the beastman above him almost pushing him from the wall as he climbed past him.

Clenching his teeth Gab resisted the urge to push back on him, If he kicked Gab he’d fall for sure.

The old beastman had stopped before a glossy section of the wall, it looked manmade, almost like a sheet of glass.

His muscles bunched, body leaning back.

And he lunged to the other side, grabbing a hold of the rock face before glancing briefly back at Gab, his meaning clear.

He could still turn back.

Gab looked down, shifting his feet on the rock, stomach churning at the dizzying height from which the bottom was still not visible.

A deep breath.

And he too jumped, hands catching on the ledge long enough to find footing, sending adrenaline and relief surging through his body.

He did it.

His feet shuffled down the ledge, pressing against stone polished by innumerable footsteps.

He really could…

His foot slipped, hands reaching desperately for a hold and then…

…weightlessness…

Gab fell from the ledge, hands clutching desperately at the air.

Crack.

His shoulder and leg snapped against a ledge below, barely steadying Gab before he tumbled into the abyss.

His legs shook, his heart beating against his chest as he pressed his back against the wall shrinking as close to it as he could.

When he could finally move again he shuffled sideways, searching desperately for a handhold on the polished stone.

Nothing.

He shuffled back to the other end of the ledge, scratching desperately at the perfectly smooth surface.

Nothing.

His foot pressed against something soft, the rotting remains of another slave, fallen prey to the same stretch of the march.

Damn.

He leaned back against the unscalable wall, his skin already burned raw beneath the acidic rain falling across the ledge.

“Awa, how did you do it?” He whispered.

This time.

Gab bit his lip in frustration, covering his eyes with his arm.

The certainty of death filled him not with relief, but regret

“Human tribe.”

Pulling back his arm Gab saw the old beastman straining above him, hand reaching towards Gab.

“Hurry.”
An impossible jump, and yet…

Filled with desperation Gab leapt, his hand clutching the grizzled hand of the old beastman as he yanked him back onto the upper ledge.

“Will get worse.” The old beastman said, hand on his back to steady him.

“Time for human tribe to go back”

The old beastman pointed at a line of slaves heading upwards before turning back to his march, leaving Gab alone as he rejoined the march down.

He was right.

Gab clutched at the stone, body stiff and unresponsive.

It really was impossible.