The Other Side of Silence

[Tooley Bostay]

Upon taking his first step out of the Dead Rock and into the sulfur mine, there were two things that Tooley noticed.

First was the stench. A foul, hot, rotten stink covered the mine like a plague. Tooley coughed underneath the kerchief wrapped around his head, wincing at the yellow dust that scratched at his throat and stung his eyes. The air was coated with the dust, so much so that the afternoon sun was dim above them, casting the world in a looming shadow.

Second were the beasts. As Vera and Tooley neared the edge of a massive crater, he spotted dozens of them inside. They stumbled about, lugging great baskets full of yellow rock over their shoulders. Occasionally, they would collapse. Some scrambled to their feet and hurried along before a whip cracked at them. Some simply never got back up.

His mind went back to earlier that morning, where he'd helped feed the slaves in their cells. Part of him couldn't believe these were the same beasts. This place did something to them. Robbed them of something.

A cold realization suddenly passed over him. This was a place without hope. Here, beasts went to die.

"Ahh, brought us lads some refreshments, aye?"

Tooley looked to see a rat walking over to them from a wagon. As he neared, he eyed the tray set atop the gruel pot, paws working in front of him as he licked his lips.

Vera untied the tureen from the tray and pulled it away before the rat's reaching paws brushed it. "This is for the drivers only. Fishlug's orders."

The rat scowled. "Eh, fine, ye fire-furred hussy." He turned and whistled sharply.

Another rat near the wagon hopped to his feet and began ringing a small, shrill bell. The slaves who still had yellow rock in their baskets emptied them out into the wagon, then began to form a line. Each would pass by a large bucket, pluck up a small bowl, then line up in front of either Tooley or Vera.

The first slave in front of Tooley was a mouse, probably in his late seasons, given the way his frayed fur splotched gray. His eyes were glazed over, and he held up his bowl listlessly. Tooley scooped up a helping of the sludgy gruel and ladled it into the outstretched bowl, unable to look away from the fresh cuts scoring the mouse's arms. The mouse made no motion of thanks, simply turning around and leaving.

The image of a broken, blinded badger, slumped within a deep pit flashed through Tooley's mind.

Tooley looked at the next slave. It was a mole, her cracked digging claws clacking against the clay bowl outstretched in quivering paws. In many ways, she looked as pitiful as the mouse, but her eyes were different. Though they were as raw and bloodshot as the mouse's had been, there was a hatred in them that said more than any words ever could have. And she was staring straight at Tooley.

"I-I..." Tooley sputtered, suddenly feeling the need to apologize. To let her know that he wished he could help. That he didn't like this. That it wasn't his fault.

But nothing came out. No answer he could find would soften those eyes.

Unable to stand the mole's gaze any longer, Tooley quickly dumped a gruel-filled ladle over the mole's bowl. He missed it by a bit, and there was a wet 'thwock' as a mushy dumpling hit the ground. The mole didn't even seem to notice. She simply turned and began to hobble her way across the mine.

Tooley stared at her, even long after she had disappeared among the other slaves.

"Keep going, Tooley," Vera said softly beside him.

Tooley jerked up from his thoughts, nodding and turning to the next slave. And the next. There were otters, squirrels, hares, mice, voles and moles... even vermin were mixed in. There were young. There were old. Male and female. No one beast seemed exempt from the horrors of this place.

Eventually, the line of slaves thinned to only several left. Vera scooped the last of the gruel into the final slave's bowl, then turned to the tureen of mushroom stew she'd set aside at the beginning.

"Stay here," she said, hefting the tureen up. "I'll be right back."

"A-aye..." Tooley muttered.

Soon after Vera was gone, Tooley found himself walking forward. He glanced over at a hare who was slouched against a protrusion of rock. His face was caked with the choking yellow powder, but he slurped at his gruel as if he didn't notice or care.

An image flashed through Tooley's mind. A confident, smiling ferret gazing up in pride at his intricately carved history.

Tooley frowned. Where was that hare on Blade's ceiling of carvings? Or the distant-eyed vole over by the cart half-full of yellow chunks? Or the mouse with bloody, pussy gouges trailing his back?

His eyes fell to the red sash tied at his waist. Rindclaw had given it to him when he started working in the forge. Said it made him a part of the crew. Captain Blade's crew. He finally had a home again.

Tooley felt sick. With trembling paws, he worked the sash free from his waist, tossing it from him like it was poisonous.

I ain't like them.

As Tooley watched the sash crumple to the dusty ground, a commotion drew his attention. He looked up to see that a throng of the slaves had gathered around a large shelf of rock that jutted out like a raised platform. He heard shouts, and noticed that a handful of pirates were dragging a scruffy-tailed squirrel to the middle of the platform. The squirrel thrashed about in the pirates' grip, roaring out curses that did nothing but seem to goad the pirates into striking him.

Memories of a conversation in a dark, muddy pit flashed into Tooley's mind, and his eyes widened. He knew that squirrel.

He darted off, boots pounding into the rock below. Numerous other slaves who had already finished their gruel were trudging their way to join the gathering. As Tooley neared, he noticed an otter and wildcat standing a ways away from the slaves.

He recognized the braided whiskers on the otter and scowled. Of course Chak would be here. The wildcat, however, he didn't know. The cat was missing a tail, much like many of the slaves, but he had a whip at his side and a nasty sneer on his face like the other pirates did.

Curious, he slowed his pace and neared the two. Chak was muttering something, gesturing up at the squirrel. Careful not to be seen, Tooley edged along the crowd of slaves until he could hear the wildcat's voice.

?...understand, Chak, mate, but ?e ?ain?t yer slave no more. Ye cain?t take it personal, an? it be fer the best. A slave what be full o? fight an? defiance ain?t worth keepin? ?round, no matter how hard ?e be workin?. He?ll turn against ye.? The cat patted a paw against Chak's shoulder, then took a step into the circle of beasts. ?Best ta break that spirit once an? fer all.?

Tooley looked between the two slavedrivers. A coldness he didn't quite understand gripped at his chest.

Something was happening. Something very wrong.

He pushed his way through the crowd, looking over the shoulders of the slaves to follow the wildcat. Several dirty looks were shot his way as he pushed through, but most seemed transfixed on the events in front of them.

As soon as Tooley reached the inner-ring of slaves, he saw the wildcat climb up a set of stair-like stones to the rock platform. Tooley had to stand on his tiptoes to see over the edge of the rocky shelf. The wildcat approached the squirrel slowly, reaching back and drawing a knife from his belt.

"See 'ere, a beast with spirit!" the cat spoke loudly, pointing the knife at the squirrel while his free paw swept over the audience. "Spirit enough t' climb up th' side o' this 'ere mountain an' try ta escape!" He paused, chuckling. "Not sure what 'e was hopin' on findin' up there."

The crowd had hushed to the point where Tooley could hear the squirrel's labored breaths. The wildcat's expression darkened, and he began to pace along the edge of the platform, staring down each slave. His gaze even passed Tooley briefly, and the weasel had to suppress a shiver.

"Would anyone else like ta 'ave a show o' spirit? Come right up an' join yer mate. There's space aplenty fer th' lot o' ye."

The cat fingered the hilt of his knife. No one moved. The cat's lip twitched. He almost seemed disappointed. "Aye, that's right. Ye know somethin' this 'ere squirrel forgot. That spirit ain't naught good but fer sleepless nights an' foolish dreams."

The wildcat's free paw reached into his pocket, and he drew out a small stone. "There be but one thing that's of use t' ye blaggards: fear." Slowly, he began to sharpen his knife on the stone, the shrill grinding echoing across the mine. "Y'see, fear's yer only real friend 'ere. She'll keep ye alive. Give ye strength when ye cain't take another step - 'cause ye know what 'appens if ye don't. Fear'll keep yer eyes open, yer paws movin', an' she'll keep yer tail on ye, if y' pay 'er heed." He turned and took a step towards the squirrel, who squirmed against the grip of his captors. "Pity 'e didn't."

Tooley looked around. Many slaves scowled at the cat, faces twisting with hatred. Some were tearing up and turning to those nearby to comfort them. Others watched with a dull gaze.

And no one was doing anything.

The cat stopped sharpening his blade and positioned himself behind the squirrel. The slave jerked futilely against the paws holding him down, tears streaming from his eyes.

Tooley clenched his fists. This was wrong, but it wasn't good enough to simply know it was wrong. He had to do something.

He took a step forward, then another. His steps turned into a trot as he circled around the edge of the platform. He glanced at the stairway to the platform that seemed so far away.

Several anticipating gasps arose from the crowd. Tooley didn't look up. He was running now, pebbles kicking up from his boots. The racking sobs of the squirrel burned in his head with every step.

There were numerous pirates on the platform, but he could rush them. They'd try to stop him, no doubt, but he wouldn't let them.

He lifted his boot up onto the first step when a paw hooked around his arm and yanked back. Suddenly, he found himself being dragged back through the crowd.

"No!" Tooley shrieked, tugging against the grip. "'E needs 'elp!"

No response came. Tooley watched in horror as the cat and squirrel disappeared under the shoulders of the slaves. As soon as he was clear of the crowd, Tooley felt himself being spun around, and a pair of paws gripped his shoulders firmly.

"What d'ye think yer doin'?" came a growly undertone that Tooley recognized.

He looked up to see Chak staring down at him, face twisted in an impatient sneer. Tooley heard the wildcat say something else, and the squirrel cry out for help, but Chak did nothing. He didn't even look up.

Tooley's chest burned with a sudden fury. He yanked his arm free, then slammed a clenched fist into the otter's jaw.

It was a spongy, grazing hit - Chak hardly flinched - but it was enough.

"Yer perthetic!" Tooley hollered, shoving a palm against the otter's chest. "Y' don' care 'bout anybeast but yerself, do ye?! 'E trusted ye, an' yer jus' watchin'!" Briefly surprised the otter hadn't retaliated yet, Tooley bared his teeth in a snarl, adding, "I hate ye!"

Chak's remaining grip on him tightened, and he drew in a breath. Before he could speak, a sudden screech ripped through the air. The chattering of slaves around them instantly died, and silence was drowned under the sounds of anguish.

Tooley looked over to the rock ledge. The mine suddenly grew very, very cold. Barely over the shoulders of the slaves, Tooley saw the cat raise the knife up. Red droplets flicked off a crimson blade, then it fell once again. There was the sound of flesh tearing, followed by a sickening crack, prompting another scream to course through the mine.

Tooley tried to dart forward into the crowd, but Chak yanked him back.

"Lemme go!" Tooley snapped, turning to face the otter and let loose another volley of snapping insults. They died in his throat before he could even voice them.

Chak had his eyes clenched shut. With every one of the squirrel's screams, he winced, shoulders twitching up. Tooley hadn't noticed until now that the otter's arms were shaking.

Chak drew in a deep, slow breath. He blinked his eyes open, and Tooley could see that they were watering. "Listen 'ere, matey," Chak began, his voice slow, measured, and tinged with barely-restrained anger, "I know ye want ta go up thar an' save 'im. Ta throttle that gates-damned cat with every ounce in ye an' burn this bleedin' 'ole ta the ground. But think. Jus' think."

He pointed up to the ledge. "Ye take a step up onta that ledge an' they'll throw ye right in wi? the rest o' these sad beasts. Reedox'll still be losin' ?is tail, an' ye won't ?ave accomplished anythin'."

The otter's eyes grew distant, and he didn't even seem to be talking to Tooley anymore. "Ye've got jus' one chance... don' waste it. Use yer freedom ta 'elp more 'n jus' one beast."

A final shriek pierced through the air, soon turning into a choking, hoarse keening. There was the racking of a whip, and the crowd began to disperse.

Tooley felt Chak's paw shift so that it rested on his shoulder. He looked up to see that the otter's fierce gaze was focused straight on him. "Find the right moment ta act. Then ye make 'em pay fer what they done."

Tooley blinked at the otter. He tried to hold onto his objections. This was Chak. Daggle's murderer. Back on the island, nothing else had mattered beyond making the otter pay for the wrong he'd done.

But this wasn't the island. Tooley was now in Captain Blade's world. Hellgates itself.

And somehow, here, the otter's words seemed to be the one thing he could hold onto.

Chak let go of Tooley and took a step back. Tooley smelled blood, then turned to see the wildcat stepping down from the platform, a scraggly, severed tail carelessly clutched in one paw. Blood was splattered up along his arm and chest, but he didn't seem bothered by it.

The wildcat approached Chak and placed his free, slightly less-bloodied paw on the otter's shoulder. "Had t' be done, mate."

"Aye... serpose yer right."

The wildcat grinned, giving Chak a reassuring pat before turning and trudging off. As soon as the wildcat was gone, Chak started to turn away.

Tooley hesitated, then spoke up, "I still can't fergive ye..."

The otter paused, turning around with a brow raised curiously.

"Fer Daggle," Tooley continued, and he shook his head softly. "I don' think I ever will..."

Chak was silent, then tilted his head in a nod. "B'ain't askin' ye to."

Before Tooley could say anything else, another voice spoke up, "Chak."

Tooley turned to see Vera approaching them both. She stopped in front of Chak, folding her arms. She gave the otter a smile, though Tooley noticed how tightly she was gripping her arms.

"Aye?" Chak said.

"The drivers' food was brought down with the gruel," she said, motioning over her shoulder. "Torin's eating now--you should grab some before you leave."

Chak's gaze fell and he shook his head. "Nay, not today, Vera."

Before Vera could respond, the otter turned away and began making his way towards the gaping maw of the Dead Rock. The smile fell from the fox?s lips, and she glanced up at the rock platform where the now-tailless squirrel was being led down.

?Savages?? she muttered, shivering. Drawing in a breath, she turned back to Tooley. ?Come on. Let?s get out of here.?

---

The memory of the sulfur mine remained in Tooley?s head long after he left. He tried focusing on his tasks in the kitchen, but found that he couldn?t forget the faces of the slaves. There was simply too much pain. Too much to forget.

Day soon faded into evening, and the kitchen masters scurried away to gamble and pass foul drinks and jokes alike. Tooley swished a paw loosely in the dirty water of a grimy pot.

?Find the right moment ta act. Then ye make 'em pay fer what they done."

Tooley frowned at the brown bubbles swirling atop the water. He?d been thinking all day of how he could act. How he could fix everything. So far, he?d drawn a blank.

This was something the captain did, not him. She was smart, and crafty, and cunning, and he? wasn?t. She?d know when to act, and how. Tooley? Tooley just knew why. Somehow, that didn?t seem particularly useful.

?Hey.?

Tooley looked up to see Vera beside him, wiping her wet paws across the red sash at her side. Tooley?s gaze lingered on the sash for a moment, and the worry that Vera was truly one of Blade?s crew crossed his mind.

She placed a damp paw on his shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts. ?You look tired. Why don?t you go ahead and get some rest? I can take care of the rest here.?

Then she smiled. She did that a lot, Tooley had noticed, but most of the time it was fake. There was usually some reason behind it?often to get Fishlug to stop throwing things. This one, however, was one of the few honest ones.

?Aye...? Tooley nodded. ?Thankee, Miss Vera.?

Tooley flicked dirty water from his paws, then slipped his tattered apron over his head and hung it over a hook. He took a step to the kitchen doorway, then glanced back at Vera. She was already scrubbing away at the pot, though her eyes were distant and her shoulders had a noticeable slump.

It seemed like more beasts than just he had things to think about.

He proceeded through the doorway and out into the torchlit tunnels, watching as his boots flicked small pebbles beneath him. Soon, he reached the turn that led up to the crew barracks, then he hesitated. He cast a glance over his shoulder to a passageway that led deeper into the mountain, where screams and pain were buried.

Most of the other pirates were in the mess hall. He?d just helped Vera deliver the dinner cart, after all. Those who had already finished were likely already asleep. The tunnels would be practically empty now. No one would be watching.

Tooley's gaze lingered on the dark tunnel. Down there, he'd found why he had to do something. Maybe he could also find the "how" and "when" he needed.

Furrowing his brow and clenching his fists, he hurried down through the passageways leading deep into the mountain. His heart throbbed with every step, but that only encouraged him to take the next step. The caverns were largely empty, though occasionally Tooley would spot torchlight flickering up one of the tunnels. In these cases, he?d hurry into a darkened hiding spot, then watch as a line of slaves were led up by snarling corsairs. As soon as the caverns grew dark and the cracking of whips faded, he?d rush from his hiding place and continue through the tunnels.

Soon, he stepped into the large cave. Dying torchlight barely lit the massive chamber, but he saw that there were at least a dozen different pathways that splintered out from the cave. He paused, chewed at his lip, then grabbed his hat. He ran a claw over the numerous holes, trying to remember where each tunnel led.

There was a sudden crack of a whip. Tooley?s eyes jerked up from his hat. Light was spilling forth from one of the tunnels, and he saw a torch-holding stoat rounding the corner. He didn?t have time to look for a decent hiding place. He cast two glances about. There was nothing to his left, and a small pit to his right.

He dove into the pit with a single leap. His shoulder slammed into rock, but he ignored the pain, quickly straightening himself out and pressing himself low to the cold stone. Then, with a measure of horror, he realized that the pit was more of a small cavity than an actual pit, to the point where his shoulder was jutting up.

He clenched his eyes tightly and held his breath. The cavity shook with the pounding of bootsteps not ten feet from him. He risked a glance to see that the light was spilling into his little hiding place. He curled up a leg before the light could catch it, and tried to stop shivering.

Seconds felt like minutes, but soon the light began to fade away, as did the whimpering of slavebeasts. Tooley drew in a long, shuddering breath, and waited several more moments before risking poking his head up.

When he finally did, he saw that the cavern had once more turned dark, save for the dim, flickering light above. He breathed out a long sigh, then pressed a paw up on the lip of the cavity to pull himself up.

He caught sight of movement in the darkness, and froze. Someone else was here.

He hunkered back down in the cavity with just his eyes peering out into the darkness. He saw the beast tiptoe into the cavern. A pair of eyes glimmered in the dark, and then he saw black and white fur marking the beast?s face. Tooley failed to stop a gasp from escaping him.

It was her. The captain.

Ciera suddenly darted across the length of the cave, then disappeared down into a tunnel. Tooley blinked, then fumbled with his hat. Shaking paws hovered over the holes before stopping on one, and he looked back up.

That was the way to the harbor. There had been talk in the kitchen about all the activity going on around the harbor, and when he'd wheeled down the gruel pot, he'd seen the hundreds of pirates lugging crates and barrels through the tunnel. Something was happening there - that much was obvious - but the what wasn't clear.

Apparently, however, the captain knew. She always knew these things. She probably knew even more than that.

Flipping his cap back onto his head, Tooley scurried out of his hiding place and ran through the tunnel leading to the harbor.

He would find answers, even if it meant finding them from the captain who had betrayed him.