Estris Chronicles Chapter One Part One

Greetings to you reader. This is the first part of a two-part series, where I release to the public the first chapter of my novel Estris Chronicles: Volume One. I wish for it to read like a novel, so pardon the lack of pictures and video. Here we go, enter into the world of a slave girl named Kira.

Chapter One

One...two...three...four…With each count there was a resounding crack of a whip and a terrified scream. Five...six...seven...eight. This continued until thirty lashes were administered by the cruel overseer, bolts of pain ricocheting up and down Kira’s spine and whole body as she cried out, begging for it to stop. Kira sank to her knees gasping, feeling the warm sticky blood drip down her back. Tears were streaming down her face as the overseer shouted at her to get back to work.

Work. Mining in the heart of the Dividing Range. She was a slave, shipped from the Southernlands to the mountains of Estris to work involuntarily for the rest of her life, which by statistics was going to not last past thirty age days. The slave girl had to pound and chip at the cold stone of the mountain for twelve hours each day, mining for the precious resource Kalerian Rock. It was a smooth, opaque colored stone that was popular in jewelry and building and commanded a high price at markets in the Capitol and other Estrian cities.

Kira’s days were long and hard, and almost always painful, filled with endless rock and lashes from the sinister whip. The slaves worked from the ninth hour after midnight to the ninth hour after midday, being fed two meager meals each day. There were only two meal breaks, lasting thirty minutes each in the morning and afternoon, and during which the slaves were fed a meager piece of bread and a small chunk of dried Hepsing meat. When the slaves were not working they were in their stone cubbies--small hovels carved into the cold rock of the mine--sleeping; if their nightmares did not keep them awake. The only thing that Kira could do was try to remember the now foggy memories of her childhood back in her village.

The last thing that Kira remembered before being shipped from her home was war. She was ten years old then. The Estrians had invaded her small village in the tribelands of Lythia and killed her family. She remembered seeing her dad reach for a sword before being cut down by the Royal Army. Her mother was diving to protect Kira and was shot three times in the back by archers. The army had then taken Kira and packed her in a cramped cart filled with other children, after which they were all sent to the dividing mountains to work the mines. Ten years of service to the cruel masters had destroyed her as a person, to the point of not believing she was even real, nothing special, just a worthless piece of equipment that could be replaced if she underperformed.

The threat barked out by the overseer of another lashing broke Kira out of her memories and she began to chip away at the rock once again. Always banging and scratching at the rough cold stone, caked by the end of the day in layers of mountain dust and grime and blood. As she worked, she caught whispers from the slaves next to her about a rescuer, something about a mystery man that saved slaves. Kira recognized them as Kalen and Mira, siblings from the tribe of Hermea.

“What was that?” Kira asked the brother, Kalen.

“Didn’t you hear about him?” Kalen asked in a hushed and excited voice.

“Who?” Kira asked puzzled.

“Him. The Abolitionist. They call him Severat. He roams the streets of the lower Capitol freeing boys and girls trapped in prostitution slavery. They say he’s one of the gods in human flesh.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kalen. There is no such thing as gods and goddesses.” Kira was a skeptic when it came to religion. The way she saw it there were no way any gods would allow such an abomination as slavery to exist, and they wouldn’t let her be orphaned in the way that she was. “And even if there were, what makes you think that one would come rescue us in the heart of the Dividing Range. Didn’t you say that he works in the lower Capitol?”

“That may be true,” Mira said with a shrug, “But someone with extraordinary talents is helping the enslaved, freeing those who cannot fight for themselves. Who knows, maybe he’ll come across our mine someday.”

“Whatever.” Kira said as she rolled her eyes. Ten years as a slave gave Kira no hope of leaving the mine unless it was in a coffin. She knew the thought of being free was absurd, and quite frankly she did not see herself as important enough for anyone to save. Yet the idea of someone being out there, doing the right thing, gave her a glimmer of hope. That hope was snuffed out however when she heard a slave down the tunnel get their lashings.

Kira finished up her work for the day and shuffled along the dirty mine shafts with the three hundred other slaves. They were all sweaty and grimy from a hard day’s work but none of them had that on their minds. All they could think about was food. Kira joined one of the three food lines and waited for her nightly rations. She received her ration of bread and meat and sat down at a bench carved out of the stone of the mountain. She studied the children in the mine, ages ranging from six to twenty six years, and of all races of the Southernlands tribes.

The Southernland tribes were under control of the northern nation, Estris. It was divided into five districts, each one containing a dominant tribe. Kira was from the tribe lands of Lythia. This district was on the southern coast of the continent, and was known for its fruit trees and adobe palaces. Kira fit the description of a typical Lythian. Average height, black hair, toned skin and light blue designs scrawled over her body, which every Lythian was born with. The Lythians were known for their magic, but Kira had never gotten the opportunity to learn the art of witchcraft before being sent off to the mine. Kira often dreamed of the day she would be able to master the art, her family practice, but being a slave she knew that was impossible.

After dinner was done and over with, the slaves left the dining hall and shuffled forlornly to their cubbies. There was enough room to lie down but only a thin cot to sleep on which made sleep uncomfortable and nearly impossible for slaves not used to it. This was the life Kira was living, the life she had learned to accept. As she pondered these things, Kira drifted off into a terror filled and restless sleep.

Thank you all, please share, like, and, if you would be oh so generous, leave a tip. Your support helps me immensely and I appreciate even just reading all the way through my stories. Thank you, look out for part two to be released shortly.