Eote - Chapter 18

Venturing off in similar directions, Loki and Rykar began using their curved blades to extract the ripe essence fruit. At first glance, the bushes were glamourous and dazzling to the eye. They sprouted from the browned earth forming an instant contrast due to their silver stems and leaves. Silver flowers branched off at the ends of the stalks, enclosing the marble shaped fruits within the golden laced petals.

Despite their delicate appearance, touching them would completely break one out of their reverie. The stalks felt as though they were made from bone or rock, the weight of them alone made it difficult to curve or manipulate them at all for either of the twins.

While encased in the protective leaves, the majority of the fruit on the bushes were either small and completely covered or had grown large enough for their bodies to just about pry apart their leaf’s protection. In any case all of these were still dull and grey, indicating they were not ready to be harvested. Out of these, only around one or two percent of the fruit would emit sparkles now and then as silver particles could be seen circulating within.

This percentage may seem small on paper, but in consideration, just the few tens metres around the twins easily contained over three thousand of such berries. The plants were short, only around half a metre tall and similarly wide, yet the nutrients within them was amazingly condensed. With as little as thirty fruit growing on each, it would take a few seconds just to search through each plant’s flowers.

Then there was the actual harvesting. Using the blades, it would take tens of slashes just to relieve each fruit from its casing of silver and golden petals. After which, it would then take another dozen to remove the flowers from their attachment to the end of the stalks they grew from.

This was the time-consuming element of the work that the twins had to complete on a constant basis, but it was far from the most stress inducing. Although Chance had told them previously that each of the fruit would weigh around ten kilos, that was only the lighter ones. The average weight was around twelve kilos and the heavier ones even went up to fifteen! Despite this discrepancy, there was no way to know which fruit would weigh more or less because they were all the same size after maturing and all of the weight would be supported by the stem until it was detached.

Loki may have taken on the rest of Chance’s advice without putting it to the test but Rykar had to learn the hard way. After filling seven out of his ten slots within his container, the trip back to the nearest submission stand was three times more consuming on both his energy and time. Not daring to open his mouth to swear openly during working hours, a flurry of abuse directed at himself, the field and anything else he laid eyes on had echoed through his head for the entire four-hour shift that day.

His anger had long since been on the boil. Seven shifts had already passed by and, without fail, he had always gone over the time limit by at least twenty minutes. This may not seem like a lot, yet the rest period was already short as it only lasted two hours. With his appetite, cleaning three plates was an easy feat but the time it took him to eat them was the issue. By the time wiped himself clean and got into the bed he would then be lucky if he got over an hour sleep.

Loki was just scraping by himself, usually finishing up around ten minutes after the deadline before making his way over to the dinner hall to complete his routine. Initially, he would come over to help Rykar, but it wasn’t long before he realised exactly why he wasn’t completing his harvest on time. Contrary to his thoughts, Rykar was actually able to pick the essence fruit much faster than he was. His hands were surprisingly nimble despite his rough grip on the curved blade. His strength had still been increasing at a steady pace, quickly recovering beyond what it had been after his release from isolation.

The issue was his injuries. Or to be more accurate, his new injuries. Ever since the first time the manager had whipped him for speaking, the same man had been following Rykar throughout each and every shift without fail.

“Stop whispering!”

“I heard that!”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?!”

“Did you just look at me funny?”

One sided shouts would constantly be heard from wherever Rykar was working and every time a shout was heard, the sound of a whip breaking through the air would follow closely after. After his first fault, Rykar had never so much as opened his mouth to yawn while working on the fields but this seemed to mean nothing.

Whips and beatings would strike randomly as he was working, often just after he had plucked a fruit. The pain from the whip or the blunt force of kicks would often cause his hands to become unsteady, dropping the fruit and damaging it on the ground if not making him crush it within his own fingers.

Noticing Rykar still on the field working, Loki attempted to help him after filling his quota for the first two shifts but this only made the beatings worse while giving another target to the abuse. Stern gestures from Rykar served no purpose the first time as Loki simply came back next shift but Rykar only left a few words as they walked into the field for their third. “If you consider me your brother, you’ll let me handle this.”

Despite the dull tone in his voice, Rykar’s eyes were already showing signs of redness as the vessels pumping blood through them began to surface. The lack of sleep was setting him more and more on edge while his faint muscles were in a constant state of tension.

From that shift onwards, communication between the brothers became non-existent. Apart from beginning their shifts at the same time, their lives were completely out of sync as Rykar would eat and bathe only after Loki had already fallen sleep. Even when he did see his brother, there was nothing to be said as the smallest details would ignite a nearly unbearable rage.

Waking up to the sound of the two tone which ushered them to work, Rykar gritted his teeth and growled as he slammed his fist into the side of the bed. As they had already moved back into the bunk house, this startled the others and caused over twenty pairs of eyes to zoom in on his bunk.

Without caring for the glances, he tore off his sheet which then became tangled within his legs due to moving around in his deep slumber. There it was, fire raced through his veins as he began to shred the blanket with his bare hands. His strength was nothing out of this world despite being stronger than the average adult. It was just that the quality of the sheet was truly lacking, causing the frayed edges to come apart under the tension.

Leaving the bunkhouse and rushing to the fields yet again, no one stood within the vicinity of the twins on the walk there or even in the queue to collect equipment. Loki was walking alongside his brother but even then, he made sure to stand at arms-length. His usual composure was fading as he became fidgety under the stifling pressure that his brother was emitting without constraint.

“Hey Loki, what’s the difference between being in this camp, and being back in the village?” Rykar asked suddenly, causing Loki to jump slightly.

“Well We aren’t left alone any more. I guess it’s almost like we’re just like everyone else?” Loki answered with uncertainty in his voice.

“That’s what I thought, but I think I was wrong. The difference is there’s no reason to fear anyone here, right? Well, apart from the managers. But that’s because there are rules.” Rykar paused for a moment, seeming to pick out his words before speaking again. “Well, its not the managers they are afraid of, it’s Sir. Sir controls everyone because he can lock them up, whip them or kill them, right?

“And in the village, they feared us because they thought we would harm them, right? Remember back when they called us demons? Did you see their faces? Hahaha, I bet you anything, they wanted to attack us and drive us out but it was fear that actually made them just watch is leave. Because there were no rules protecting them” Rykar suddenly turned to Loki and smiled as though he had just told a joke. “Sooooo, what would happen if people didn’t think the rules would keep them safe?”

The lightness of his tone was completely out of place when combined with his increasingly bloodshot eyes and the air which stifled Loki to the point of it being difficult to breathe. “I- I guess I don’t know” Despite taking a moment to ponder the question seriously, Loki had no idea what his brother was getting at.

Rykar had always been impulsive so it had already been surprising to see him holding in this level of abuse over these few days without any confrontation. Loki thought that had been weird enough but was glad he was holding it together. It was only now that he was realising how negatively the situation had been affecting him.

Four and a half hours of every six. Over eighty percent of his day was spent under the mental stress of not knowing when the next whip would cut into his back. Eighty percent of his time spent in silence, not able to speak with anyone and only listen to the verbal attacks of the manager. Eighty percent picking a fruit he had no idea what for.

Many of the people within the camp were treated at least as workers, as long as the rules were adhered to. Then there was Loki who was treated like an outcast, avoided by the entire population of the camp despite the curiosity towards him. Then at the very bottom of the chain, there was Rykar.

Unable to sleep enough, unable to seek company, unable to waste any time on anything other than food and rest. Unable to work in peace. Unable to feel safe. Unable to avoid the torment.

After passing the station, Loki and Rykar were both given their knives and containers as they made their way towards their own areas of the field. From behind a booth adjacent to them, the same manager walked out with a massive smile plastered to his face as he made his way after Rykar.

“See you in three days!” Rykar shouted towards Loki who was already ten of metres away by now. The shout wasn’t overly loud, but it stood out like butter entering a hot pan due to the field being deathly quiet. Everyone paused and looked up at the source, wondering who was dumb enough to invite trouble for such a dumb reason as to say goodbye.

As Loki looked up, the smile on the managers face stiffened before brightening up once again. “Oh, you’ll see him soon alright!” swinging his whip, the manager jogged the last few steps before getting in striking range. Flicking his wrist, the whip lurched forward only to let out a crisp thud as it struck the metal container which Rykar had pre-emptively raised.

Before the manager could even drag his arm back for another swing, Rykar walked over willingly rather than running away. Confusion washed over the managers face before he raised a hand, intending to push Rykar away and back into a more comfortable distance before raising his whip again.

His hand, however, didn’t even make it onto Rykar’s shoulder before coming to an abrupt stop. Dropping his whip to the ground, everyone on the field stared wide eyed as he gripped his throat with one hand and Rykar’s wrist with his other. Blood painted the front of his shirt and trousers as Rykar’s knife lodged itself in his jugular, severing arteries and twisting violently against his ligaments.

It was anything but a clean cut. Flesh and bone were ravaged unevenly while many pieces stuck wetly to Rykar’s hand. Despite the rest of his body avoiding the bits of meat, the blood from the managers throat had completely drenched him from head to toe as it squirted out wildly.

Releasing his hold on the knife, the manager fell limply to the floor with its handle still protruding from his neck.

Initially, Rykar had begun to walk back towards the food hall but before long he slapped his head in forgetfulness, causing drops of blood to fly into the air. Spinning on his heels, he returned to the managers side before picking up his container along with the blood covered knife. Handing the two items back to the station, he made his way off the field with every intention to eat his fill before the ‘rules’ were enforced.