The Strong Survive

Holes were dug into the ceiling. Roxanne’s clenched fingers slipped inside them before she hung from them. They held her body weight. She bent her elbows to pull herself up against the weight of wrought iron shackles.

“So first they tell me there’s no quarry trip today, then you visit me free of your shackles. Is this about yesterday’s match? The one you stole.”

“I fought with what I have. The same way you did,” Kurl kicked down over the chains between her ankles. The stone around her fingers cracked. Her hold gave way as ceiling crumbled. Chunks of plaster and stone scattered around her bare feet.

“Do you know how long it took me to dig out those holds with my fingernails?”

“Our controller is forming a penal squadron. I want you to join. The rations will be standard for officer. You’ll have access to protein again, and possibly more than that, depending on where we fight, and what you can round up.”

Drool pressed her shirt to her left breast, but she wiped her mouth and hardened her expression, “A combat squad, for the likes of us?”

“Everyone in this prison is an asset. It’s the only reason we’re not dead. But given your strength, they’ll keep you smashing rocks until you can’t. That’s a guaranteed slow death. Or you can sign the paper work and join the squad. I’ll be the combat leader. My command is second only to the controllers, who’ll deal directly with me. If you can accept that, join me. Even if I die, you can survive longer and rebuild your strength.”

Roxanne spit, “I don’t take charity. If I join, I fight harder than anyone else.”

“Once you get your strength back.”

“Harder than anyone else!” she stomped forward with fiery eyes, “I’m in. I’d rather die on the front lines smashing a vampire’s face in than withering away in this work camp. But are sure you want me? I’m not a strong mage. My affinity is useless compared to the others.”

“Your affinity is different. It’s not the strongest, but it’s one I can support. I can make you stronger, and you can cover my weak points. We’ll be working with a silver mage, and one other I haven’t chosen yet.”

“A silver mage? Isn’t that exclusively an angelic affinity? Do they even exist anymore?”

“One does. According to Brunswick, she’s a walking defect. They put a sigil on her neck because she killed her discovery team. That’s why she’s being pinned on us.”

“Whatever this is. I’m in. If you’ll have me.”

“I’ve made my decision and she accepted,” Kurl called back, “Can you release her shackles.”

The iron shackles fell from around her wrists and ankles. She lifted her leg and rubbed at the chaffed flesh, “They trust us enough to remove these?”

“They trust me enough, and the shackles are just window dressing. The real chains are engraved into our flesh.”

“Fair enough, so what’s next?”

Kurl leaned back against the wall, “Few prisoners are suited for this assignment. I need someone strong, trustworthy enough, and whose powers are going to support your brawling style while covering my weaknesses. He needs to be versatile enough to handle whatever affinities the vampires might throw at us.”

“You have weaknesses?”

“Of course I do, they’re just not as glaring as yours. I’m still one man. One wrong moment when I’m not paying attention could be the end of me. It almost happened several times before?”

“What do you mean almost?”

“I’m still here, right? But to get back on target, our angel is a woman. She killed her discovery team. But don’t ask too many questions. I’m at the limit of what I know. We’ll learn the details when we need them.”

“What about the poison vapor mage?”

He signaled her to follow him out of his cell. An attendant guard, unarmed but in the standard blue uniform, stood at attention.

“Is there a poison mage in this prison?”

The guard snickered, “Which one?”

“Poison vapor.”

“Do you have a name?”

“The one with the crazy eyes like this,” Roxanne opened her eyes as wide as she could and started blinking rapidly, “Goes by green ghost.”

“Oh, that poison vapor mage! I’ll take you to his cell.”

A thin man, completely bald, stood in the center of his stone cell looking between the window bars. The cell had a modest bed of straw and a wood bucket. Irons shackled the prisoner’s wrists and ankles. He turned to face his visitors, blinking deliberately, nonstop, through pale green eyes. He had a long chin and big teeth; wide nostrils dominated a thin face as he leaned forward like a leering worm, “So you’re the reason we had a holiday. Have I won the lottery? Have you come to save me from this horrid place? Oh, I do hope so.”

Roxanne peeked from behind Kurl’s shoulders, then stood next to him with her arms akimbo, “I recommended you.”

“What can you do?” Kurl asked.

The thin man listed forward, “I can kill anything, efficiently, effectively, beautifully. Give me a canister and I clear a trench. Give me a tank and I clear the battlefield.”

“What about the undead?”

“The undead!” he shouted, “They’re already dead. You expect me to waste my glorious death vapor on undead?”

“How would you handle a vampire with an earth affinity?”

“Given enough supply, I can defeat anyone.”

This time, Roxanne took over the questions, “And your plans if there are no supply?”

“Once I have access to my affinity, do you think I’ll ever let it go!” he snapped back.

Kurl nodded and made for the door, “We’ll make our decision at the end of the day. You’ll see us again if you’re selected.”

“Don’t you even want my name?” he blinked rapidly.

“No need, we have your cell number.”

The iron door slammed. More doors slammed. Checks and lines were scribbled across the list of candidates provided by the controller. Most of them were too weak. Kurl crossed names off the list. Anyone broken by prison couldn’t be a candidate.

“Can we take someone from another prison?”

“We were given one day. That answer is obviously no. They know what they’re doing.”

“So, we go back to the green gas mage?”

“I’ll train that yellow stone mage first; his affinity can be pulled from the earth and inventoried. The poison vapor puts us at the mercy of supply. We’d be at the mercy of the salt guilds. Do you think they’ll supply dangerous affinity material to prisoners out of the kindness of their heart?”

“You have a point,” Roxanne groaned.

“But I could overlook that.”

“Really? If that’s not the main problem then what is?”

“He won’t work well with others.”

“Perhaps, or perhaps you don’t want to be upstaged by a poison vapor,” Roxanne smirked as she put a hand on his broad shoulder.

He picked up her hand and flicked it away, “All vapors are poison if used correctly.”

They moved toward the entrance of the plant ward. The guard halted them, “You’ll need to hand over the list. You’ll also need to change into wool clothing. No cloth, not even your underwear.”

“Plant fiber?” Kurl asked.

The guard nodded. They changed under supervision at the entrance to the private wing. Inside, the guards wore wool and leather.

“We’re only here to interview two candidates. The first is a bread meister.”

“Oh him, he’s not doing to well,” the guard said, “Bad case of gout. Not much we can do but keep him well stocked with water.”

In the corner of his cell, the bread meister gnawed a greasy sausage. A wrought iron bed lined with furs occupied the center. A clay chamber pot in the other corner reeked from meat-fueled contents. A jar of cooked sausages and a plate of assorted cheese sat on his bed. Iron chains hung from his limbs. The toes of his left foot swelled with a red glow.

“You get meat? Can I have some?”

“This is my dinner; didn’t you get your own?”

“Give me your meat!”

The withered mage backed away terrified as Roxanne charged.

Kurl held his fist against her grumbling stomach.

She twitched, drooling.

“I’m sorry, we neglected meals today. We’ll have a meal and come back after you’ve finished. Roxanne, look at the man, do you really want his rations?”

“Yes?”

“You can’t have my food,” the bread meister hit his leg with his fist, “I’ll call for the guards!”

“We’re not here for your food,” Kurl glanced back to Roxanne drooling over a little cheese and sausages, “I’m here to give you a chance to recover.”

“Not interested. Don’t bother! I heard about your mission and have no intention of joining this suicide squad. You think a bread meister doesn’t build connections in a prison of starving men,” he looked toward the door and yelled, “Even when he is intentionally starved! No, I won’t lift a finger. Not for an empire that won’t feed its own damn people. Let the vampires flood the trenches with corpses.”

The bread meister’s toe lightly bumped the ceramic jar full of sausages, “Ahhh! That hurtsss. Go away and leave me be!”

Kurl glanced over him thoughtfully. Was this really the leader of the bread heist? The gout might be a recurring issue. He looked malnourished, a shadow of his former self. He grabbed Roxanne by the arm.

“Let’s go, there’s nothing left here.”

As they left, the bread meister tossed Roxanne a sausage. She caught it gratefully; pressed it against her chest. Her attempt to nibble it slowly failed. She barely chewed.

“Do you mind if we see the plant mage before dinner? She’s our last chance, otherwise we’re stuck with the yellow stone kid.”

“I can hold out a bit longer. Maybe we’ll get extra rations for the work.”

“I doubt it.”