The Dream (Part 3)

[Culnarion]

Szintala grasped the bar, her upper body bathed in perspiration as she struggled to pull herself up once more.

"Feet together! Pull yourself up, do it! Do it now!"

Her eyes were pressed tightly together, her teethed clenched as she strained her muscles, pulling her body up nearly one foot before she couldn't go any further. She hung there for nearly two seconds as she tried to complete the pull-up, but she reached the limit of her endurance, and she sagged downwards, gasping for air.

Falling to the ground she curled up into a ball, her face a grimace of pain as she hugged her stomach.

""Stand up! STAND UP! You stay down and I'll give you reason to never get up! Stand! STAND!"

She stood, tottering on her feet as she did so, tears mingling with her sweat as she tried to stay upright. The male sneered at her laughing as he grasped her hair and planted a wet kiss on her mouth. A foot lashed out, connecting with the back of her knee and sending her down hard on her knees. Her bone met stone and she yelped with pain, delicate hands going down to feel broken skin.

She fell to the ground when the instructor kicked her again, merciless in his torment over the waif nearly half his size.

"Twenty? That’s it? Twenty times? You're weak! WEAK! You don't deserve to be called ilythiiri, you're like a surfacer! Weak!"

Jeers and laughter followed in his wake as the other Drow laughed, their own pains forgotten as they took pleasure in the pain or another. The sounds echoed in the stone hall, rolling over each other like a ghastly crescendo of hate.

Szintala stood, her limbs shaking as she came once again to her feet. A bruise on her face was already beginning to swell and bother her knees were scratched and bloody, but she regained her feet.

The laughter died away as the Drow watched her, intelligent eyes picking her apart, each judging with their own criteria, each wondering how much of a challenge she would be to kill.

She spat, but she didn't have the energy to send it far, bloody saliva making a vivid stain on the black trousers of the instructor.

Blinking sweat out of her eyes, she didn't see the instructor move, but she felt it when his fist slammed into her jaw. She spun around twice before crashing into the stone floor, her skull and upper body rebounding once before she settled down.

She dreamed.



[Incomplete]

[Mord]

Splendid stuff, Szintala grows scarier by the story.