Page 1 of A Broken Promise (the Freckled Fate #1)

1

“ L ine up!” The guard’s loud voice echoed off the cold, stone walls of our cave. I quickly stood up. Chains clunked in a wave down the long tunnel, rattling in my ears. Viyak was already standing motionless by my side. We were both utterly exhausted, yet alive—better off than many of the slaves tonight.

I took a long breath; the stale air was thick with unease.

“What’s going on?” I carefully whispered.

“I don’t know. But there are a lot of guards,” Viyak replied, his voice anxious.

I could feel his nervousness from the way his body locked, his shoulders squared. He was only in his early thirties, though the ruthless sun and slavery had aged him tremendously.

Viyak and I had been chained together since my very first breath in the Rock Quarries. He was the reason I was still alive. His bright, blue eyes kept my despair at bay. His blond, bearded smile was the only source of solace in my life.

Viyak was the longest survivor here, with over three years of slavery behind him. To me this meant two things: first, he knew all the guards and the intricate details of surviving in the quarry, and he kept me safe because of that. Second, it meant that there was no escape. At first, I couldn’t fathom that fact, and yet, day after day I opened my eyes to this new reality. Three hundred and ninety-six days of lukewarm hell.

I thought about escaping at first. My mind created one scenario after another, desperately trying to solve this impossible puzzle. But even if you somehow unshackled yourself from your partner and avoided the guards and their hounds, there was only one large bridge leading out of the Rock Quarries and then, there was the large Rocky Mountain descent. Those snowcapped mountains held the highest peak in Esnox, and we were deep within their core.

There was no escape.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

No.

The worst part was watching the slow deaths of the attempters. They were always brought back half dead, tied up to metal poles in the center of the Quarry, and whipped until there was little flesh left on their bones. Then they were left to rot with no food or water under the high-altitude sun, eaten alive by swarms of bugs and flies.

If Fate was on your side, you’d last only a few hours, maybe a day, but if not—a week. Then your body was left to decompose in the hot sun for another week to remind us all of what our luck would be should we think to flee.

I couldn’t forget them even if I tried.

It was never the soul scarring screaming as they were whipped that rang in my ears each night. It was the begging after. The desperate, agony-filled pleading for a sip of water or the soul churning hallucinations as they welcomed Death. The rotting smell of the human flesh haunted me with each breath I took.

I never believed in human gods. Growing up with my two-hundred-year-old elf maid—the only family I’d ever had—even the concept of them was foreign to me. But in those moments, I prayed to them. I begged whatever gods there were to spare the agony-filled, poor souls and grant them relief.

Because the rest of us were helpless .

The few slaves that tried helping those in torment die, carried their own deep scars from lashings as the result.

That is, if they survived the whipping…

“Kahors,” Viyak said with terror in his voice. Hairs on the back of my neck stood up as the meaning of his words settled in me. A shiver went through my body. Suddenly, the large main chain that linked all the slaves for the night got pulled. One by one, we were dragged out into the darkness.

My lungs welcomed the fresh summer night breeze, yet I couldn’t take a full breath. My chest tightened with uncertainty.

I was facing Viyak’s tall, bony back, unable to see anything. Hushed whispers fluttered around me as unrest rose. Exhaustion completely vanished when my eyes caught a glimpse of them.

Kahors.

I wasn’t sure if they were men, women, or something else entirely. Whatever they were, they wore long, silvered robes with a deep hood on top, covering most of their face except for the mouth and chin. Elongated sleeves covered their arms, the ends of them extending down to the floors.

They oozed with rot and decay. I fought the urge to gag as their stench made me nauseous.

Wide in frame and yet so unnaturally thin, the Kahors’ figures floated soundlessly just a couple of inches above the ground. One of them stopped straight across from a girl no more than a few years younger than me. I had seen her a few times around the Quarry. She was new, but a hard worker. I respected that.

Even covered in dust and sunburnt skin, she was beautiful. Striking. Big, plush lips and dark, hazel eyes. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back in a large thick braid.

She whimpered as a big, curved, animal-like claw appeared through the silver robe. The Kahor slowly slid it down her delicate throat, hard enough to draw blood. Large, crimson drops pooled on their nail. I watched in horror as they slowly brought it to their demon-like mouth and licked it off .

The lipless mouth stretched in a cruel smile. “ This,” they hissed. The sound, high in frequency, though low in pitch, gave me an immediate pounding headache. The guards quickly unshackled the young girl from the long chain and tightened a rope around her wrists and neck.

I flinched at the sound of her quiet begging to the guards, to the slaves around her.

My heart ached as the tears slid down her cheek and despair filled the air.

But begging never worked.

I bit down on my cheek hard enough to stop tears from my own watery eyes as I watched the guards pull her away from us. I didn’t know her name; didn’t talk to her once, but my soul filled with sorrow for her.

There was only one reason a Kahor—a creature of darkness and abyss—would be delighted like that.

They tasted magic in her veins.

It also meant that she was now sentenced to death.

Unknown death.

Sacrificed by Royals?

Or tortured and killed for sport by Destroyers?

Or sent off to the Queen Insanaria, known as the Mad Queen, for her to split your soul from your body and rip it into a million pieces to exist in torment forever?

At least in the Rock Quarries, if you were a good slave, never causing trouble, never making eye contact and working hard, you could look forward to one day just not waking up from your sleep. A peaceful end for the exhausted soul and body. And if Fate was on our side, Viyak and I would die together, cuddled in each other’s arms just like we went to sleep each night.

A sense of doom ran through my mind as they moved slowly to another boy from the line, also just as striking as the girl. Even now, his underfed body was muscular and strong. His light brown hair was down to his chest. His eyes and nose razor sharp.

Another drop of blood, another hiss making my ears bleed. He tried to flee as they unshackled him. The boy punched the guards and was about to hit a Kahor, but their long, deep claws grabbed his throat in a tight grip, pooling blood at his neck. He went completely limp as the creature sunk their long canines into his blood-covered flesh.

I knew I shouldn’t look, but I glared at them, letting a glimpse of anger flicker while they licked off the last droplets of the precious blood and wiped their bloodied-up chin and hands with a swift motion.

I couldn’t see their eyes but, at that moment, I knew.

I knew they stared back. I could feel their dark being slithering. Instant regret flooded me down to my core. Not because I put myself on the line, but because I endangered Viyak. He was always so prudent about keeping our eyes on the ground, always being meek and obedient.

I turned my eyes straight to the dusty ground. Too late. The creature slowly floated towards me. My heart thudded in my chest, my fists clenching tight, but I willed the rising panic to calm.

I wasn’t a Magic Wielder. Though, there were plenty of times in my twenty-two years of life when I wished I was one. Through bits and pieces of secret tales, I’d heard of the great Creators, Seers, and Healers. Of them who walked the continent helping people thrive before the Great Betrayal. Long before they were exterminated by the Destroyers.

Mages were everything I aspired to be at one point. Hopeful, selfless, inspiring, loving, kind.

But I wasn’t a Magic Wielder.

Neither had I lived up to any of my childhood aspirations.

The Kahor floated above the ground just a few inches away from my face.

I stopped mid-breath. Their smell overwhelmed me to the point of my eyes darkening.

Something deep inside me stirred in wrath and boldness against their presence. But I didn’t dare move. Viyak was just as rigid as me, looking down as a cloaked hand rose close to my neck and a large claw appeared. I winced from the sting as they sliced through the tender anterior of my neck.

Though my face was tranquil, I hoped the creature would choke on my blood .

Notes of panic ripped my well-built walls of calm to shreds, as minutes passed and the Kahor stood stagnant in front of me.

There is no magic in my blood . I chanted to myself to chill my heating blood. The creature dipped their nail one more time into the tiny pool of blood between my neck and collar bone.

At last, I raised my treacherous eyes to their hooded face just as they hissed.

“ This. ”

My brain short-circuited.

“There is a mistake,” I muttered, as the tightrope slid around my throat, almost choking me.

“Kahors are never wrong, freak ,” the guard unshackling me sneered as he jerked my body out of the line.

“ Please, take me. Let her stay !” A loud desperate scream erupted.

From Viyak, tears forming in his eyes.

My heart broke in a million pieces at that look.

My mind was in haze while panic ransacked my thoughts like a violent robber.

I grabbed Viyak’s callused hands as tight as I could.

“Please live, Vi, I will find my way back to you. I promise .”