Topic: Testimony

Nemone

Date: 2015-07-20 11:34 EST
((Contains violent imagery.))

It took several days before Mahon was called before Pax's village council, several days in which he was allowed to rest and recuperate, to reconcile with his sister and his son. But it was also several days in which Ember was still kept in what had been his sick room when he had arrived, despite Ethan's insistence on staying in there with her, and Uther's constant appeals for them to release her. The council was undecided what to do with Marka's daughter - on one hand, she was a valuable bargaining chip, even more so now it had been confirmed that she was, indeed, pregnant; on the other hand, they had seen the scars left by a lifetime of her mother's "merciful" punishments. The debate was ongoing when Mahon was finally called to speak with them; five in total, the most respected pillars of Pax's community.

Several days to further heal from his injuries, several days to make him look more presentable, several days to gather his words and his thoughts before he came before the council. And yet, when the time came at last and he was summoned, he could only be himself. He had been no more than a boy when he'd been taken from the village fifteen years earlier, but he was a boy no more. He wore his long hair and beard with pride - symbols of the hardships he had endured in the valley. Let them think he was a wild thing - what did he care" Let them see how the valley had changed him. Let them understand how they would continue to lose sons if something was not done, how their sons would suffer as he had.

And most of all, he was there to make them understand that Ember and Nemone and even young Aedan were not their enemies, and that turning Ember over to Marka would be as good as signing her death warrant. He held his head high as he entered the council chamber, well aware of the eyes that were on him. Though he was no great speaker, he had become the leader of the rebels in the valley, and he had learned what words needed to be said to incite action.

"Mahon Dugan, you are one of our own returned to us from the valley after fifteen years of captivity," he was told, though it was more for the benefit of those from Pax itself who were gathered around the edges of the council chamber to hear what was being said and decided. "Your sister, Brona, has sworn that you are her brother; you have the endorsement of Uther McKinnon, as well. We have allowed you a few days to recover from your injuries, but we are aware that time may well be of the essence. We hold in our custody the daughter of Marka Keel, leader of the Amazons, yet we are unable to reach a consensus about what should be done with her. We need your testimony to inform us."

"My testimony," Mahon echoed, looking deliberately from one council member to the other. Ethan's father was there on that council, but Mahon could not be sure which one he was, and even if he knew, he could not appeal to only one man. He needed all of them to understand and believe the truth. "If you would believe the testimony of a man who has witnessed and experienced for himself Marka's cruelty, a man who has been away from the village for these last fifteen years. If you think it will help you decide what you must do, then I will tell you, but I warn you ....I will not stand idly by while you harm that girl. She is my mate's niece, blood of my son's blood, and no more guilty than he. If you would choose to do her harm, then you are not only blind fools, but no better than those in the valley."

Ethan's father, Joss, it seemed, was sympathetic to Ember's plight. He was the man who spoke next, with authority that no one spoke against. "We are not the women of the valley, Mahon. No harm will come to Ember by our hands, you have my word on it. We need to know what you know, to know the truth as you see it. There are ....some ....on this council -" at this, he looked sideways at the man who had spoken first, who was scowling into the middle-distance, "- who believe Ember is best served by being returned to the valley in exchange for some of the men more recently taken from us. Others, like myself, believe she has a right to remain free. But you are the only one who knows the truth of that place, and of her circumstances."

The big man's expression remained passive, stoic even, as the man who had to be Ethan's father spoke. Mahon remained silent until he was finished, looking once again at each member of the council, before his gaze rested on the man who had spoken first and who was scowling at what had been said. "Have you not heard a word of what anyone has told you? Have the girl's scars not been enough proof for you? Or have you not yet seen the extent of Marka's cruelty given her own child" If you return Ember to the valley, her blood will be on all of your hands, and you will likely have to kill both me and Ethan to do it."

"Not just her blood," a familiar voice spoke up from behind him, evidence that Brona had insisted on staying past the time she had been dismissed. "I've examined her myself, I've seen her scars, I've seen the evidence. She's expecting Ethan's baby come summer time. If you send her back now, she'll likely be beaten until she loses the baby, and worse."

"Keep quiet, Brona," the first speaker snapped, but he wasn't fast enough to keep the villagers from hearing what she'd said. He scowled, turning his glare onto Mahon. "You say you have information for us, but I've heard nothing but grandstanding. Speak up, or leave, Mahon."

"Brona!" Mahon muttered, turning to find his sister behind him. The expression on his face flickered, from anger to sadness to guilt. He had not wanted her to be here for this - he had not wanted her to know all he had been through - but now that she was here, he would not tell her to leave. No, she was the only blood family he had left, and she deserved to hear all of this from him, not from someone else. No more secrets. Just as he had asked her to tell him everything, he would tell them everything. He turned back around to face the council again, his expression darkening as the first speaker first scolded his sister and then him.

"Be careful you do not become that which you despise, councilman," he warned. "I have spent the last fifteen years in slavery, and it will take more than a few minutes to tell you all of what I witnessed in that place, but more importantly than that, I have news of an uprising that is to to take place very soon. There are those within the valley who are tired of Marka's rule, even those who bear Marka's blood - like Ember, like my own Nemone, like Uther's mate, Gia. If you would free the slaves in the valley and ensure Marka's defeat, then you will need more than the militia. You cannot do this alone. You will need the help of the Amazons - as you call them - the women under the hill. Those who despise Marka and her cruelty and would put an end to it. You want information, councilman' Then be quiet and listen while I tell you all I know ..." The murmuring behind him died away as he spoke on, passing comment turning to curious attention. There was no one there who had not been effected, one way or the other, by the presence of the valley, be it in the loss of a husband, father, or brother, or in the gaining of a baby boy to be raised in freedom. Despite her brother's scolding tone, Brona stood at his back, daring the council to punish her for speaking up on behalf of the one person they had not interrogated in this way. She might not want to hear the whole story, but she needed to hear it, to understand what was going on behind those forbidding mountains. They all needed to know.

There was no better place to start than the beginning, and so Mahon related his whole tale to the council and to all who were there to witness, including his own sister. He did not dare leave any details out, though he was as concise as possible. Perhaps it was cruel subjecting them to the details, but they needed to know in no uncertain terms what was at stake, not only for themselves, but for their children and their children's children, both those who were free and enslaved, both those in the valley and the village. He told of Marka's cruelty not only to the slaves, but to her own women, her own daughter, her own sister, her own niece. How she was still in power?

Of that, he couldn't be certain. Fear, perhaps. But the time for fear was over. Their time had come, and with the help of the villagers, they would seize the day and overthrow the tyrant and her soldiers forever. But that was not all he told. He told of the plans he and Nemone and Gia had made, without Ember's knowledge. And just so they did not doubt what he said, underscored it all with his own proof of Marka's cruelty. He tugged the plain linen shirt he wore over his head and let them see for themselves as he told them the story ...

Nemone

Date: 2015-07-20 11:35 EST
"Tie him to the stake."

The order came from Marka herself as Mahon was dragged forward, chained at the neck, wrists tied at his waist. The other men were gathered around the main punishment area - far enough that they couldn't cause trouble, close enough to see it all in excruciating detail. The guard held them there at gunpoint, the other women brought out to witness this punishment. All for words spoken unwisely where Marka's own ears could hear them.

As he was tied securely to the sturdy stake in the center of the arena, a voice murmured into his ear, unknown but clearly an ally. "Nemone's been ordered to flog you. Black ink on the flogger instead of mutant venom - hope you're a good actor."

What Marka didn't know was that it wasn't Mahon who had spoken those words unwisely, but another slave who Mahon would scold later, but was protecting now - another who would not have survived such a punishment as this, venom or not. Perhaps it was foolish of him, but this, too, was what earned him so much love and respect among the slaves - among his men. He made no move to resist, knowing from past experience that it would only result in further punishment. This was not the first time he had been punished for speaking out, though it was the first time he had stepped forward to take the blame for another. His only reaction to the ally's words was the brief arch of a shaggy brow. He did not even bother to nod his understanding in case any of Marka's women might notice. He did not think it would be difficult to feign pain once his back was torn open.

Standing atop the watch tower, Marka could not see the faces in the crowd she had gathered who disapproved of what was being done, not merely among the men, but the women, too. She was focused on the punishment of one man in particular she had wanted to make an example of for a very long time, only holding back because he belonged to her niece. And now that niece, who seemed far too attached to him for Marka's peace of mind, would deliver the punishment for speaking out of turn.

Nemone walked out onto the rough, beaten earth, the corded flogger in her hand, her jaw set hard. To Marka and her sycophants, the Captain of the Guard looked determined to cause harm; to those who knew her better, they could see the hatred burning for the forcing of her hand. "In punishment for your crime, you will receive fifty lashes. Do you comply?"

Perhaps it was a good thing that Marka had been foolish enough to choose Nemone to deliver the punishment. If it had been anyone else, he probably wouldn't have much chance for survival - not with the deadly venom that would find its way into his bloodstream and cause unimaginable agony. No, it was better it was her, and better to let everyone who mattered believe Nemone was still loyal to her aunt. He didn't bother to tug on the ropes that held him to the stake and test their strength, though he hoped they would still hold him upright when his body had failed him. "I don't have much choice, do I?" he asked, loud enough for the others to hear. If they believed it had been him who had spoken out, he might as well play the part.

With a glance to Marka watching over them, Nemone moved to check his restraints herself, and again, no one saw anything wrong with this. This was what she did with every prisoner. No one suspected that she was taking the opportunity to warn him. "Won't go easy until you pass out," was muttered from between lips that barely moved. "Punishing me as much as you."

"Just do it," he whispered back, his lips hardly moving. She did not know him well enough yet to know what he was thinking without speaking, but Marka had not been wrong in sensing an extraordinary bond in the making between them. She was not a fool, and they would have to be even more careful in the future - if he survived, but there was no reason to think he wouldn't. Marka, certainly, would not grieve his passing, and would only choose another man to take his place, but he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. He planted his feet, muscles ripping in his back as he tensed and clenched his jaw, preparing for the onslaught of pain - the day's entertainment for Marka and her cohorts.

Shaking out the flogger with its nine lengths of knotted cord, Nemone paused to nod to her aunt, steeling herself. She had given out punishments like this before, though never so severe. But she'd never been quite this reluctant before, knowing that Mahon meant more to her than she had admitted even to herself. That was why she had painted the flogger with ink rather than venom; why she would take it easier on him when he finally passed out. Fifty lashes with mutant venom was a death sentence to all but the most hardy. Nemone intended to make Marka afraid of Mahon when he survived this punishment. Planting her own feet firmly, she swung the lash with all her strength, letting it fall across the broad expanse of his back without mercy.

The big man gritted his teeth. No matter how badly it hurt, he would not give Marka the satisfaction of hearing him scream. No, not even if there had been venom on the lash. He would sooner die than let her see any weakness. He would rather inflame her rage than succumb to her cruelty, though he was only human, after all, made of flesh and blood. Even though he knew he should make a show of it and let her see his agony, it was more important to show his men courage. She could be beaten at her own game and would be eventually.

Oh, she could kill him if she wanted. She could have him shot right there on the spot, but others would rise up in his place, and while Marka thought this little demonstration would instill obedience, what she failed to understand was that it only made them all the more determined to get rid of her. It started quietly at first, almost in time with the slap of the lash against Mahon's back. It started far back in the crowd of men who had been gathered there to witness. If she wanted to teach them a lesson, she was going to have to punish them all. It started quietly at first, a murmur among the men, becoming louder until what they were saying - what they were chanting - was clear. It was the big man's name - a crescendo of voice echoing it over and over with each lash of the cords, even as his back was ripped open, his face a mask of agony, blood running down his back and pooling on the ground. Each voice in unison and support of the big man that Marka was so hoping to destroy.

"Mahon. Mahon. Mahon ..."

As the voices rose, Nemone bit into her own lip, tasting her own blood as she laid the lash on Mahon's back to the beat given by the captive men of the valley, her arm already aching with the effort. Above her, Marka sneered at the openly voiced discontent, nodding to her personal guard captain. There was the sound of argument somewhere among the women's ranks, but it was quickly silenced as every child from the hill, every daughter these men had fathered, was marched out to surround the man being flogged, a knife held to their throats. The message was clear; to save their friend, they would have to watch their daughters, innocent of the valley's crimes, slaughtered wholesale in front of them before they ever reached him. Men were expendable, and children were easily made. Marka was counting on those men not to want to see their own children massacred for their crimes.

As lash upon lash struck the man's back - twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two ... - he was only barely aware of what was going on around him. It was almost surreal really, like a dream - no, a nightmare. The woman he loved - yes, loved, he realized - forced to raise her hand against him; the men he had not realized held him in such high regard chanting his name; the daughters of those same men marched out and threatened with death, all because of him. It was too much, even for one such as Mahon. He could not, would not have their blood on his hands.

"Don't ..." he whispered weakly, and then, gathering the last bit of strength left to him, he straightened his back and uttered a one-word order to the men standing before him. "Enough!" he shouted, his voice loud enough to be heard even above that of the chorus of voices, and as they fell silent, more out of obedience than fear, the big man finally sagged against his bonds, surrendering to the darkness, tears on his face for the daughters he hoped would be spared.

Nemone

Date: 2015-07-20 11:37 EST
As the men subsided in obedience, Marka was seen openly to hesitate. To slaughter the children now would be to invite bloodshed from all quarters, yet Mahon had just proved that he had more control over the men of the valley than she would ever have. She had no idea how to respond ....but the captain of her personal guard did. With a single shouted order, a chorus of tearful cries and yelps went up as each knife nicked each child, leaving behind blood blossoming from ears, jaws, shoulders. Marking the children of the men who might have rebelled as a warning of what would happen if they tried again.

Nemone's jaw clenched tighter, her eyes on Mahon, watching him for the signs that he was close to oblivion, wishing for this to be over. If only they'd had more supporters ....they could have taken the valley in that moment, but it was too soon to be certain.

Silence fell, like death, the only sound that of the children crying, and the sickening slap of the lash against already bloodied and ruined flesh. The big man tied to the stake had lost consciousness and had no way of knowing whether the children had been spared or slaughtered. What had happened this day would live forever in all their memories and his men would never forgive or forget.

Once again, as Mahon's voice trailed off, there was silence, but this time it was the silence of many voices kept quiet, as many minds absorbed what they had been told, accepted just why there had been no concerted attempt to free the valley until now.

Uther stepped forward, his expression carefully blank. "With respect to the council," he said calmly, "if anyone tries to send a pregnant girl back to an abusive mother who will freely mutilate children to make a point, I will happily take up arms against that person."

There was a rumble among the men and women watching.

"I would, too."

"And I."

"Ethan's girl now, she's ours."

And beside Mahon, he heard his sister speak up once again. "I don't think the council needs to make this decision," she told the five gathered before them. "I think it's already been made."

Ethan's father nodded, rising to his feet. "My son has taken her for his mate, and I take her for my daughter. And so help me, Cailin, if you lay a hand on her, I will beat you bloody."

It seemed that Mahon had at last made himself understood, thought at what cost he did not yet know. What his sister would think of him now, he wasn't sure. Would she think him foolish or brave" Would she pity him for what he had suffered" He didn't want her pity, and he guessed that neither did Ember. What they both wanted was freedom and justice and perhaps just a little revenge. He did not bother to put his shirt back on or cover the evidence of what Marka had done. Instead, he extended a hand to his little sister in affection and solidarity. If he had accomplished nothing else, he would have been happy to have at least accomplished this - that Ember would have her freedom at last and never again have to suffer at her mother's hand. He raised his head high, proud of what the villagers had decided, proud of his sister's love and support, proud of Uther and Ethan's father and of what they'd accomplished there today.

Cailin scowled, but he seemed to understand when he was beaten. He sighed, nodding to one of the militia men by the door. "Let the girl out," he snapped, rising to his own feet. But despite his personal feelings, he did care for the village itself, it seemed. "You say there is an uprising planned, that it will take place within the next three months?"

Mahon took his sister's hand in his, drawing her forward. He appreciated her support more than she could ever know, and if he had anything to say about it, they would never be separated again. "Yes," he replied in answer to the Cailin's inquiry. "One of Nemone's people will light a beacon the evening before the uprising is to begin. That is our sign to get into position to invade the valley, but before that we must prepare." And they only had three months to do it.

There was a moment of quiet as the five council leaders discussed what they should do with this information between themselves. Brona's hand tightened in Mahon's as she looked up at her brother, proud of him for being strong enough to share such an awful account, but fairly sure there was more to tell than just his maiming.

Joss raised his hand, calling for silence as Cailin spoke again. "We will send a summons to the council leaders of the three other villages on this side of the valley," he announced. "They should arrive within a few days. Is that long enough for you to plan our attack and what we need to prepare for it?"

Mahon waited silently and patiently as the council leaders discussed among themselves what should be done, only arching a brow in mild surprise when they seemed to be putting him in charge. "It will have to be," he replied. "I will need to meet with those in charge of the militia. We will need to go through the mutants to get to the valley, but I believe I know a way." He was not about to discuss it here in the council chambers, however.

Cailin glanced at his colleagues and nodded. "Draw up your plans," he suggested. "We'll reconvene when the other village leaders get here." With a clap and a nod, the meeting was dismissed, the villagers leaving the meeting hut in a milling group to return to their own duties.

It was only when the meeting was dismissed that Mahon finally seemed to relax, his chest expanding as he breathed a sigh of relief and let go of his sister's hand so he could tug his shirt over his head and hide the wreckage of his back. He did not expect any thanks or reward for anything he had done, only the satisfaction that he knew he was doing the right thing. He turned to his sister, brushing a lock of hair away from her pretty face. "I'm glad you were here. Thank you."

Brona looked up at him, a half smile on her face. "You didn't think I'd make you stand there alone, did you?" she asked, almost offended that the thought might have crossed his mind. "Your Nemone isn't here to stand with you, but I am. And you've got more to say. Just not here."

"I didn't want you to hear all that," he admitted with a frown, still trying to protect her - needing to protect her, even though she was clearly no longer a child. For no reason at all, except that she was his sister, he swept his arms around her and pulled her close, perhaps needing it more than she did - needing to know she was real. He said nothing about the rest of the story. If she wanted to hear the rest of it, he would share it with her, but not here, not now.

She let him pull her close, her big brother still trying to protect her when she thought it was about time he let her try to look after him a little now she was grown. "I needed to hear it," she told him quietly. "I saw Ember's scars, but no one told me she was flogged. Not like that. It's going to sound strange, but I'm glad it was your Nemone who flogged you."

He huffed at that remark, finding it more than a little ironic. "If it hadn't been her, I might not have survived," he admitted, though he'd said as much already. That had been the worst of it, the worst story he'd had to tell of his own personal experiences anyway. "I want to go home," he told her quietly, his face buried in her hair. For a moment, he was a boy again, clinging to his little sister and telling her his most private secrets.

"We'll go home," she promised him, holding on tightly a moment longer, feeling her place in her world shift. Before he had been taken, Mahon had always been the one protecting her, looking after her. Now, it seemed as though she was the one protecting and looking after him. "Come on, Mahon. Let's rescue Han from Aedan before they kill each other."

He made no protest, perfectly happy to let someone else take charge for once. His shoulders felt heavy with responsibility, and even the leader of the rebellion needed someone to lean on. Without Nemone there, he was glad that someone was Brona.

((He didn't have the best time of it in the valley, did he" More coming!))