Lucy Wickshire 239 Bk 2: Chapter Three 6

After the ground had closed, she was sure she had been moved. Even if it was so dark that one could not see an inch ahead, she felt it when they had been moved. They must have been in a metal room, as it rumbled under her feet at the slightest movement. She was not the only person in the box; she had heard two men and a woman talk in the darkness, each trying to find out where they were. Helen did not hear Lizzy's voice. She wondered how it was possible. They had fallen in together, yet they had been separated in a brief moment of disorientation.

Bang!

She heard the metal under her feet slam into something hard, knocking her into the cold metal wall behind her. She heard the others wince in pain and counted one more person in the room. That person had not said a word since she arrived. She wondered who would keep quite that long. Did they know where they were?
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Loud Creaking of metal could be heard as they crushed against each other ahead of her. Then light streamed into the room, causing those inside to guard their eyes. All but Helen, who dared not look away for one second only to be drawn into a situation much worse than this. She bared the pain of the light of a torch piercing through her eyes to the back of her skull, to the figures on the other side.

They were carrying swords and an odd short staff-like weapon and shouted in a language she did not understand, but others seemed to; as they were only slightly shaken before crawling out of the metal room as though instructed. She did as others, not missing a step. She walked out into a brighter s.p.a.ce. One would not truly call it a room, as on closer inspection, it was a manmade cave of some sort. She looked up only to meet the night sky.

They were all chained as their captors shouted orders at them in this same foreign but somewhat familiar language, and then led deeper into the cave. They walked quite a while underground before they arrived at a gate. On the other side were sounds of people; some crying, and some shouting to be let out.

Silence descended as the gate was opened and they were shoved in. The chains on their legs exchanged for longer ones and attached to the solid rock floor. Their captor retreated outside before locking them in. Only then did the noise continue; only this time, very little shouting to be let out and more crying.

Helen looked down on her chain for a moment and took in the length. It was long enough to walk around. On the floor, she saw b.l.o.o.d.y detached human foots and paused; some of them had started to rot.

"That's from the unlucky ones." a man beside he commented and Helen turned to look at him, his gleaming black skin illuminated by the torches. The hairs on the sides to the base of his head were cut low, leaving the rest in long dreads falling beside his face.

"You do not speak the captors' tongue." she commented.

"Very little do. One of the three lost languages; they are the only who speak it." the man said.

"I thought they sounded familiar." Helen said.

"Yes, no matter how much you think you can speak, nothing beats native speakers. Besides, it would not be called a lost language if we could actually learn it." he said.

"But I thought there were seven lost languages." she said.

"There are seven great languages, only three lost to us. You must not be from around here if you think all seven are lost." he answered, taking in her outfit. Helen may be completely covered in dirt and dust, but one could tell her dress was foreign. Unlike others who wore soft cotton, she was layered in satin and silk.

"You said they are the unlucky ones. Who are the lucky, then?" she asked.

"Those who get eaten without losing their foot." he said.

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