Soon tiring of harassing the ogrillion, the slavers turned their attention to the wagon to which Hagar had been chained. The wagon held a large cage made with thick bars of wood lashed together by boiled leather strips. Inside, seven human males and three females were chained to the interior of the prison. They were all dirty and their simple clothes were in disarray from their long forced journey. The four men sauntered over to the wagon. The red haired man, who had thrown the loaf at Hagar, then reached into the cage, grabbing a young female by the hair. He pulled her head back hard against the wood bars. Hagar could not understand the words but he recognized the girl’s fright as she screamed and cried.
“Ello my pretty,” the red haired man hissed through clenched rotten teeth. He yanked her hair back harder, aligning the side of her face with his own. He ran his tongue across her cheek and she screamed with fear and disgust. “I’ve been eyeing you for a week. Tonight is your lucky night.”
“Leave me alone!” she yelled.
One of the men in the wagon struggled to protect the girl but his chain allowed for little movement.
“Leave her alone. She has done nothing to you,” the man said sternly.
“No…but she soon will. Sarin, open the door and unlock this pretty.”
“With pleasure,” Sarin replied, moving toward the wagon. Sarin, a skinny middle aged man, wore chain mail over worn wool leggings and an equally ill kept tunic. A broadsword and dagger dangled from his hip. His long, dark, and greasy hair, framed a thin, bearded face with high cheekbones. An overbite with large front teeth gave him the appearance of a weasel. Sarin lifted himself into the wagon, and unlocked the girl’s shackles from the chain. Roughly he grabbed her by her hair, dragged her out of the wagon, and threw her to the ground.
The girl was young, no more than eighteen winters, and very pretty. Old tattered leggings did little to hide her shapely legs. Likewise, her dirty cotton blouse, thin and worn, was not effective at covering her feminine attributes. Her face was strong and narrow, more angular than soft looking, a face that could melt you with a smile but still somehow radiate a sense of underlying strength. Her bright green eyes shone with life, contrasting sharply with her otherwise bedraggled appearance.
She landed hard, but quickly regained her footing, standing up to face the four men. Frightened eyes were looking upon the men as a child might look at a monster in the darkness, but there was something else behind those scared eyes, something strong, and deep, a defiance that she was not yet aware of, like a burning ember waiting for air to fuel it to open flames.
“Stay away from me!” she screamed, backing up slowly. The four men easily surrounded her, leaving her no place to go.
One of the slavers, a heavy set man wearing black leather armor and matching breeches with several holes, spoke up, “Landers, if you hurt her or bruise her face, Korgan will have your tongue.”
“That is why you will hold her down. We shall all have our fun. We shouldn’t have to hurt her then,” the red haired man replied. “What do you think, boys?”
Sarin leered at the lovely prisoner with lust in his eyes. “Aye, I’ll savor the young lass, but let’s hurry before Korgan comes back from his hunt.”
The fourth man was young, maybe twenty winters. He looked around uncertainly. He wore padded leather armor, metal shoulder guards, and forest green breeches. Like his companions, he looked as if he had stolen bits and pieces of other’s armor, randomly attiring himself, which is exactly what they had all done.
“I don’t know. What if Korgan comes back?” he asked.
“Tyvol, when are you going to grow up and act like a man? There is a perfectly good woman here, in fact, she is better than good. My bet is she will be sold as a whore to some wealthy merchant at Stonestep. When will you ever be able to afford a warm piece of flesh like this? Take advantage of it now,” Landers advised.
The young slaver looked agitated and unsure. He glanced to Glave, the heavy set slaver, searching for some confirmation.
Glave, looking about nervously, nodded his head. “Okay, let’s take her behind the tree.” The three men glared at Tyvol with their unspoken challenge.
Finally the young man broke down. “Okay. Let’s be done with it,” he said reluctantly.
The young girl crouched defensively as the men advanced, fear constricting her voice. “Leave me alone! Stay away from me!”
“We won’t hurt you, lass, we are going to make you feel real good.” Sarin’s voice was hoarse with anticipation as he reached out to grab her. But she surprised the skinny man by stepping into him and kicking him as hard as she could in the groin. Sarin groaned in pain, falling to the ground just as Glave wrapped his arms around her from behind.
In their excitement they had forgotten about Hagar who was behind them watching the whole event play out. Hagar lacked higher intelligence, but their intent was quite clear to him. The girl was young, and most likely had done nothing to the men, as he had done nothing. Growling, he stood up from the tree. The chain used to bind him to the cart was long and the excess was wound up on the ground by the men. Hagar pulled the excess chain toward him as the fat human grabbed the screaming girl. He pulled the chain tight, lifted it in the air, and with immense strength, flung the thick chain into the red headed man’s face.
Landers, seeing the chain rise in the air, was about to yell a warning when the heavy metal links came crashing into his chest. Flying backwards he slammed into the side of the wagon. Hagar began pulling on the chain again until he had several feet of the links in his hands. One big stride put him right behind the heavy set man just as the man was turning to face him. Hagar, wrapping the loose chain around Glave’s neck, easily lifted him into the air. Glave’s eyes opened wide with shock and fear. He dropped the flailing girl to the ground, choking as the chain links tightened. The chain was thick, about as big around as Glave’s wrist, but Hagar’s powerful arms easily cinched the links tight around his neck. It only took a few seconds before they heard a sickening crunch of bone and Glave’s body went limp. Hagar flung the man easily aside, and reached down to pick up the young girl. She screamed in fright. But when Hagar gently set her behind his broad body to protect her, she realized what he was doing and stopped screaming.
Tyvol and Sarin both stepped away from the dangerous Ogrillion as Landers slowly got up from the ground. His right arm was hanging useless at his side and his face was a mask of pain as he regained his footing.
“He broke my shoulder,” the red haired slaver moaned, his face ashen in shock.
“Well, he killed Glave! What should we do?” Tyvol wailed.
A commotion down at the camp alerted the men that their mishap had not gone unnoticed. A handful of slavers led by a tall blonde warrior wearing shining banded mail briskly made their way toward them. The leader wore a long sword and short dagger at his belt, both of high quality. He strode over to the wagon with an air of strength and authority, his long forest green cloak billowing behind him. His clear blue eyes sparkled against his tanned skin.
Hagar was crouching, holding his muscled arms out wide, ready for any attack. He felt the young girl behind him, one of her hands gently touching his thick leg. The tall blond warrior stood before the beast, his blue eyes scanning the scene quickly before landing on the red haired man that Hagar had injured.
“Let me guess, Landers, your loins were in need of attention and you thought to take advantage of my departure?”
“I was going to do what every man here is thinking. Come on, Korgan, you have no right to take away our spoils,” Landers mumbled, grimacing from the pain in his shoulder.
“First of all, Landers, they are not your spoils. They are mine, and they are mine because you are too stupid to know that if this young girl is raped or harmed in any way then I will not be able to sell her as a palace slave. I will be forced to sell her to the common brothels for a pittance of what I could have received.”
“Money that WE will not see, money that we should…”
Suddenly Korgan’s arm shot forward and a small dagger appeared in Lander’s throat, cutting off his next word. Lander’s eyes reflected shock and disbelief as he spit up blood and stumbled to his knees. He then fell face first onto the ground, a crimson pool surrounding his head. Everyone stared at the body for several seconds in silence.
“Does anyone else have the desire to sample the flesh from this young lady?” demanded Korgan. The rest of the slavers looked away, saying nothing.
“Now, this is quite a sight…an ogrillion protecting a young human. He should be eating her, not helping her. Cully, do you have the crossbow?” Korgan asked.
“Yes sir,” replied a tall warrior moving up to Korgan with a short small crossbow in his hand. Korgan took the crossbow as Cully drew a short dart from a quiver strapped to his thigh. The dart was shorter than a man’s forearm and tipped with a razor sharp point. Cully then took out a small metal container with a cap. He unscrewed the cap carefully, dipping the dart into the vessel. Withdrawing the tip from the container, he handed the dart to Korgan. The silver tip was now coated with a black sticky substance. Cully, replacing the cap, dropped the metal container back into a small pouch hanging from his sword belt. Korgan, placing the dart laced with the sleeping drought into the crossbow, faced the ogrillion.
Hagar wanted to charge and crush the little humans, but was afraid they would hurt the girl. So he stood his ground growling loudly as the blonde human pointed the tiny weapon at him. The weapon made a light click as Korgan pulled the trigger. The small dart shot from the weapon, hitting Hagar in the chest. Hagar hardly felt it. He looked down at the dart jutting from his body. The weapon had barely penetrated his thick skin and Hagar easily reached up and batted the dart aside. He lunged forward toward the blonde warrior but the long chain connected to his leg went taut, pulling him back hard. Then his vision began to blur and a strange dizziness overcame him. Growling, he shook his head to try and clear it, but it did nothing to help. Stumbling left and right his vision became even more blurred. His eyelids felt heavy and he dropped to his knees, no longer able to hold himself up. He felt the girl rush to him, grabbing hold of his thick arm. She was saying something in his ear but he could not understand it. Then everything went black as he fell face first onto the ground.
“Put the girl back in the wagon,” Korgan ordered, spinning on his heal and marching back to camp.
***
The tired trio slept well that night, waking early the next day, eager to get on the road. Shyann had stressed to Jonas the urgency of their mission and they pushed themselves physically to the point of exhaustion. Jonas and Taleen would wake up each morning refreshed and ready to travel, but the long hard days of riding were beginning to take their toll on Fil, who did not have the magical endurance of the cavaliers and their steeds. But he was tough, both physically and mentally, and he did his best to keep up with the two warriors and not complain.
Riding hard that day, they reached deep into the forests that surrounded the Tundren Mountains. Fil was tired and his mind had begun to wander just as his horse came to a stop. Looking up, he noticed that Taleen and Jonas had both stopped and were gazing intently into the thick forest to his left. Fil rode up next to them.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Tulari stopped suddenly and acted as if he heard something,” Jonas whispered softly. They all paused and listened. Suddenly, from a distance, they heard a faint roar. They had to strain to hear it, but the sound was unmistakable. Something, or someone, had roared in anger, or pain.
“What was that? I do not detect any evil,” Taleen said, looking at Jonas uncertainly.
“Nor I,” he replied puzzled, looking intently into the dense forest. “It sounds far away. And whatever it is sounds as if it needs help.” Jonas looked at Taleen, his gaze lingering for a moment before she nodded at him in confirmation. “Good”, he said. “Let’s leave the horses. We’ll climb that ridge on foot and take a look.”
The three dismounted and Fil tethered his horse to a nearby tree. Quickly they began plodding their way up the ridge. It was steep and the dense brambles made the ascent slow going.
Once they reached the top they dropped down a gentle hill before beginning another climb up an even bigger rise. The thick undergrowth gradually gave way to more sparsely growing brush, making the climb a bit easier. As they neared the top, they heard another roar, this time much closer, followed by the sound of human voices. Slowing their pace they crept quietly up to the top of the ridge. At the top they hid behind some trees and positioned themselves to look down into the clearing at the bottom of the valley.
Below them was a caravan of four large carts, each carrying a wooden cage packed with over twenty ragged looking men and women. There were eight oxen and ten horses tied to various trees grazing silently on the forest shrubs and grasses. Scattered throughout the camp were over twenty men, eating at fires, and tending to the animals and slaves.
What drew their attention was a large creature looking similar to an ogre, shackled to a large oak tree. It was roaring and pulling on its chains while the men in the clearing ignored it, going about their evening tasks.
“What is that?” Jonas whispered softly.
“That is an ogrillion, half-ogre, half-orc. Very rare and very dangerous,” Taleen answered, gazing down upon the scene.
“Looks like a slave caravan. And by the looks of it those slavers have not just captured that ogrillion. I see at least twenty men and women shackled in those carts,” Fil whispered, glancing over at Jonas. “What should we do?”
“Slavery is not illegal outside the Finarthian lands,” Taleen stated bluntly.
“But it is wrong, nonetheless,” Jonas answered quickly, his hand unconsciously moving to one of his blades.
“Jonas, we have a mission to fulfill. We are outside Finarthian lands and we have not yet entered the lands of Tarsis, therefore those men have broken no laws.” Taleen was looking at his hand on his sword hilt. Jonas raised his eyes to meet hers.
“Tell that to those men and women chained to the carts. You know very well that those men will be used to work the metal mines in Stonestep, and the women…well…you know what will happen to them.”
“But there are twenty men down there. You want to risk our mission by aiding those slaves?” Taleen asked calmly, not against the idea but unsure if it was the right choice considering the urgency of their mission.
Jonas sighed in frustration, looking away in indecision and gazing back down at the scene below. After a few moments he glanced at Fil.
“What do you think, Fil?” he asked.
“I’m not sure what we can do against twenty men, but I would have a hard time departing knowing what will happen to those people. I would also have a hard time shedding the blood of those men when they have broken no laws.” Fil shook his head. “I’m not sure, Jonas.”
Suddenly a loud roar broke their train of thought and they all turned to look back down into the clearing. A handful of the slavers had surrounded the ogrillion and they were carrying long whips. The loud snap of the whips rang in the clearing and Jonas cringed, the howl of pain from the ogrillion was like a shot of adrenaline, causing his heart to beat fast with anger. They continued to whip the beast until it was on its knees, no longer struggling to break the chains. They were playing with it, causing the beast to suffer just for fun. The giant creature was moaning in pain, the fight beaten out of him. Jonas could take it no longer.
“I will not sit up here and watch these men beat this helpless beast. No creature, not even an ogrillion, deserves such treatment!” Jonas hissed through clenched teeth as his hand returned to the hilt of his sword.
“Nor will I. What do you have in mind?” asked Fil, now determined to help the people below.
“Okay Jonas, but remember, these men may be simply trying to earn a living. I do not detect the kind of evil that opposes us on this mission,” Taleen reasoned.
“I understand that, but what the
y are doing is still wrong and I cannot sit here and watch. Those men may not be truly evil, like the followers of the Forsworn, but their actions are a start, a small stain on their souls that left unchallenged will grow into the very evil against which we fight. It is our duty to protect those men and women. Are you with me?”
“I am,” she sighed. “What do you want to do?”
Jonas looked down into the clearing and saw that the ogrillion was now lying on the ground, either asleep or unconscious.
“We go back and get our horses, ride into that clearing and simply ask the men to release the slaves.”
“And why would they do that?” Fil asked incredulously.
“We are cavaliers. They will not want to defy us, or fight us. We must hope that will be enough,” Jonas stated calmly.
“And if it’s not?” asked Taleen.
“We will have to convince them. They will not want to fight cavaliers, so perhaps we can get them to disband without a fight. Then we free the slaves ourselves.”
It took them a while to hike back to their horses and then find the trail that led to the clearing. By the time they neared the camp the sun was almost completely behind the high peaks of the Tundrens. They agreed to use no stealth, making their arrival known by riding directly into the clearing, calmly, and with authority.
Jonas led Fil and Taleen into the clearing. Tulari pushed his way through some brush, entering the camp with Fil and Taleen right behind him. Jonas sat tall and proud on the impressive animal, his armor shining with brilliance. He had the appearance of one of the kings of song and legend. The surprised slavers immediately stopped what they were doing, hesitantly drawing their weapons as the trio boldly rode into their midst. Shocked into silence at the presence of two cavaliers, they looked about, unsure of what to do.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 02 - The Rise of Malbeck Page 3