by Kat Lind
All of his years of ruling by intimidation were at stake. What were his men thinking now that they had seen him like this?
Grun Baran risked a glance at his men and saw that they were doing as the stranger demanded. But the campfire highlighted their expressions. Instead of their usual subservient looks, Grun read calculation on their faces.
Grun Baran couldn’t help but wail at the sight.
The stranger cursed out loud.
“I should gut you for being craven,” he said. “But before I do, tell me truly. Are these folk in your wagon deserving of a slaver’s collar? Or have you stolen them from their lives simply because you saw the opportunity to do so?”
Grun Baran didn’t comprehend the question. Why would the stranger want to know that?
He even try to answer. He just leaned up against the slave wagon and continue to wail.
The stranger took that as an answer. Without bothering to say anything more, he took Grun Baran’s circle of keys from its place on his belt. He spent a moment searching through them and then unlocked the slave wagon door.
He shoved Grun Baran out of the way so that he could open the door. When he had done so he addressed the slaves inside.
“You are free. Return to the lives you once had, if you can. I will deal with this festering sore.”
Grun Baran watched in horror. He’d never imagined that the stranger would even think to do such a thing. In that one moment, he knew that he was ruined. Even if he were to somehow survive this, even if he was able to maintain control of his men, without these slaves, he wouldn’t be able to pay what he owed.
And if he couldn’t pay his debts, he might well end up a slave himself.
Grun gasped like a fish. He thought he’d been afraid just a few moments before, but now he was beyond terrified. Everywhere he looked, he faced a calamity worse than the last. The stranger could kill him. His men could rebel. He could no longer pay off his debts.
In every direction, he saw horrible futures.
And there was nothing he could do. The slaves took the stranger at his word. They climbed down from the slave wagon as best they were able and made their way into the desert.
“Now you,” the stranger said. “Take their place in the wagon.”
Grun Baran didn’t want to. While most of him gibbered in fear, a small part of him understood that if he was to get into the wagon, there would be no way back for him. His last hope was that he could somehow avoid paying his men and use that coin to pay part of his debt.
But if he did this, his humiliation would be complete. His men would see him as he truly was, and any respect that might linger for what they had thought him to be would fade away like a light mist under the sun.
“Do it now!” the stranger bellowed.
Grun Baran flinched. He heard a scurrying sound and wondered if some small desert creature had gained shelter under the wagon. But then he realized it was just the cook, still hiding from the stranger with a knife.
He wondered if he would taste the type of food the man could produce ever again.
“Now!”
The stranger pricked him in the belly with his blade. A tiny droplet of blood appeared, to mingle with that which had dripped from his nose. It wasn’t a major wound, but the unexpected pain was enough to make Grun Baran whimper out loud.
Lost in a sea of fear and despair and without consciously making the decision to do so, he found himself clambering into the cage on the back of the wagon.
Once he was inside, the stranger shut the door with a clang that sounded as final as a knell of his doom and locked it.
Then he flung Grun Baran’s keys into the desert.
“Do not seek to recapture those I have freed,” said the stranger to Grun Baran and his men. “If you do, I will not stop at locking you in your own cage. My blade will taste blood. And it will keep tasting blood until I am satisfied.”
With that, the stranger cast one more baleful look over Grun Baran and his men, and then strode out into the desert towards Balgeron city.
Grun Baran, locked in his own slave wagon, blubbered like the insecure little boy that he secretly was.
Chapter 8
Grun Baran gradually realized that he was no longer alone.
He forced himself to stop whimpering and dried his eyes with the palms of his hands. He tried to sniff, found it too painful, so instead blew hard enough through his nose that the congealing blood sprayed over his chest and out into the cage.
Then he looked through the bars to his men, who were looking at him.
The campfire was behind them. Even so, the moons were casting just enough light for him to make out their faces. Jax and Obin and Rillin and Cust. Each of them was standing outside the cage as he had seen them do so often before. The expressions on their faces ranged from uncertainty to malice, and even hatred.
The wagon driver wasn’t with them. Perhaps he was still running through the desert. And the cook was still hiding beneath the wagon.
Grun Baran tried to muster his spite. He knew that his reputation was broken, but it was all that he had. So he drew a couple of deep breaths to steady himself and tried to summon a sneer.
Even to him, it felt weak and pathetic. But it was still the best that he had.
“Don’t just stand there!” Grun Baran snarled, infusing his words with as much hate as he could to cover his fear. “Get me out of here!”
None of them moved. Not Rillin or Cust, who just stood there as if waiting to see what would happen. Not Obin, who had known Grun Baran since they were both boys on the streets. And not even Jax, whose expression was at once defiant and calculating, and who Grun had always known to be the cleverest of his men.
In the end, it was Jax who spoke.
“Why would we do that?” he said.
It was a simple enough question. And yet to Grun Baran, it felt like a fist clutching his heart.
Nevertheless, he responded with part of his usual bluster.
“Because I am your leader!” he said. “Everything you have is because of me. If it weren’t for me, you and Obin would still be on the streets of Balgeron, stealing scraps from the market waste. Remember, you work for me. Every coin in your purse is there because of what I do and how I do it. It is my reputation that puts food in your bellies.” Grun Baran tried for a snarl. “And because if you don’t, when I do get out of here, I will gut you like a ground lizard and leave you to die in the sun!”
Grun Baran found he was breathing hard. His voice had lost none of its volume or venom, and contained only the slightest quiver. On another day, it might have been enough.
But his men had just witnessed his humiliation by the stranger with the knife. They had watched him wet himself out of nothing but fear. And they had watched him crawl, blubbing like a frightened child, into his own slave wagon.
Because of this, Grun Baran was not gripping the bars with both hands and spitting his malice directly into their faces. Instead, despite the vitriol in his words, he still cowered with his back against the bars on the far wall.
Jax stared at him as if weighing his words. In the end, it seemed that they proved wanting. Jax shook his head.
“You are not our leader anymore,” he said flatly. “And as for your reputation, think about what mine will be once it becomes known that it was me who placed the lock on the slave collar that you wear around your neck.”
The rest of Grun Baran’s men all laughed at this as if it was a fine joke. As if there was nothing more to be said, they turned back to the camp and made ready for the night.
After a time, the cook came out of his hiding place under the wagon, and the wagon driver wandered back from wherever he had gone in the desert.
Grun Baran looked on with horror. Though he’d always known that they might, he could not believe that his men would actually treat him this way. He could not believe that they would make him their slave. It just wasn’t possible.
For a time, he sat there, too stunned to form words. B
ut as the night grew darker, he called out to them.
They ignored him.
He called out again, and again, each time his words holding more fear than the last.
By the time the men were ready to sleep, Grun Baran was howling and begging and pleading with them in the same way that the more fearful slaves did when they had been caught.
His men responded with nothing but threats.
Introduction - Untamed Emotions
Take a group of witches, mix them with a land that has werewolves. The result is thoroughly enchanting and entertaining.
Untamed Emotions
by Nicole Zoltack
Ruby Ravenwinger stared at the man before her, unable to hide her loathing and disgust. “William Chambers, this court has found you guilty of the charge of murder. Sentencing will be pronounced tomorrow.”
William jerked against his restraints. “It was self-defense!”
Ruby ignored the impassioned plea. The man repulsed her. He has a duty to his country, his land, his people. And instead, he betrays his fellow man. It is inexcusable to take another’s life. The witch motioned to the guard. “Take him to his cell.”
She stared at the persistent prisoner. Three guards had to restrain him. Passionate, dangerous, William Chambers needed to learn how to control his emotions. With a sly smile, Ruby concocted the suitable punishment to petition the witches’ council for this vile man.
<<<>>>
Two guards shoved William into the cell. After some derogatory remarks and a wad of spit, the guards locked the iron cell and left Will in peace.
Relative peace.
Will paced the dirt floor as best he could despite his shackles. It was self-defense! He grabbed the bars and shook them violently. The guards paid him no heed, and he slumped into the fetal position.
His thoughts drifted back to that eventful night….
Will was starving. He hadn’t eaten in four days, going without food so his family had a little bit more.
Despite his wounded pride, Will traveled the long trek to his brother’s mansion. He hated having to grovel but he had no choice.
Will and his brother had never been close. Sibling rivalry had turned into bitter fights. A nasty rift divided them forever when the lovely Claudia had chosen Will over Erik.
Guilt had haunted Will for a long time after Claudia made her decision. He had lied to her. Said that Erik had also been seeing Moria. Years later, Will learned that his lie had actually been the truth. That did not diminish his guilt and only served to make him hate his brother more.
Erik had amassed a fortune of money and women whereas Will bounced around from job to job. Will struggled mightily to support his constantly growing family. Gradually, Will had no job, and their money reserves depleted to nothingness.
Erik had wanted nothing to do with Will. When Erik answered the doorbell, he bodily threw Will from his mansion.
Will sulked in the deepening darkness. He refused to return home empty-handed. I can’t bear to see the hunger in Claudia and the children’s eyes.
And that was when Will saw a form lurking in the shadows near his brother’s dwelling. Someone was trying to break in!
The thought had crossed Will’s mind. He knew where Erik hid his money. But Will could not yet lower himself to acts of criminality.
Disgust and self-righteousness surged within Will. If I can’t bring myself to steal from my brother then no one else can.
Will attacked. He dove at the figure and knocked him onto the ground. He kidney-punched the would-be thief.
But the person did not give up. He raised himself onto his hands and shoved his elbow back, hitting Will square in the chest. Will staggered backward, the air knocked out of him.
The thief turned assailant and took advantage of Will’s momentary dizziness. He punched Will, grabbed Will’s arm and bit it hard, his teeth cutting through the skin, making Will bleed.
Will tackled the unknown stranger, flattening him, knocking his head against the cement pavement. The assailant was unfazed and unveiled a knife that he promptly buried into Will’s side.
Unadulterated pain seared through Will and, for a moment, he couldn’t move, breathe, or think. Then rage and fury seized him, and he ripped the knife from him and shoved it into the assailant’s stomach. Again. And again. Against his ribs, skimming against the bones, then up and under, into his chest cavity and his heart.
The moon, finally revealed from beneath a cover of clouds, illuminated the assailant, the would-be thief—Erik. And Will collapsed against his dead brother’s body, his own blood, his lifeline, seeping from him, wasting away.
I thought it was a thief. Why else was he sneaking around my brother’s house? What was Erik doing, creeping around? It was self-defense!
Tears sprang to Will’s eyes, bitter and acidic, burning him to the core, his heart torn asunder. Now, my family will starve. I’m a failure. Couldn’t even take care of them. I wish for death. I long for it. My guilt… it is too much to bear.
Sleep alluded Will that night. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his three daughters and two sons. Their ribs were exposed, their bellies extended from severe starvation.
I’m a failure.
It was self-defense.
<<<>>>
Ruby Ravenwinger’s long black robes flowed around her. The air current in the large courtroom blew her pale green hair around her, half covering her face. “Please stand, William Chambers.” She paused momentarily as two guards helped the prisoner to his feet. “Before your sentence will be given, the witches’ council has decreed that you will be allowed to see your family one last time.”
A range of emotions flickered in William’s amber eyes: surprise, relief, guilt.
“Bailiff, please escort Mr. Chambers to the receiving room,” Ruby said dismissively.
As the warlock rushed to comply, Ruby hid a grin. Yes, William will receive the punishment he deserves.
<<<>>>
Will held out his arms impatiently for the bailiff, Warlock Oakstone, to unlock his wrist and ankle shackles. Will shook with nervous anticipation. He longed to see his family but he was fearful too. Will they hate me? Blame me? They should. I do.
As soon as the door opened, Will rushed in. He enveloped his wife in a loving embrace. He hugged her close, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her eyes, her neck. “I love you,” he whispered desperately. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Claudia kissed him. She stepped back, allowing his children to rush around him. Dana was seventeen years old, Georgiana fifteen, Harold fourteen, Kevin twelve, and little Maribeth at nine.
Will cuddled them all, hugging them, kissing them, crying on them. “Please forgive me,” he begged.
“Dad, will you come home soon?” Maribeth asked, squeezing beneath Kevin’s outstretched arm to give her father a tight, loving hug. “Please?”
“I’ll try, baby,” he promised. He kissed her on the top of her head. “But Dad did something wrong, and when you do, there are consequences for your actions. I still have to face mine yet.” Will glanced over his shoulder and shivered. His gaze landed on Ruby, who watched their reunion through the small window of the cell. That witch still hasn’t pronounced my sentence yet. Does she realize the wait is torturing me? He turned back to his family with a firm resolution that he would, one day, make everything right in their world. Even if it would be the last act he would ever do.
<<<>>>
Ruby watched Will and his family with annoyance and bitterness. They forgive him so readily for his heinous crime yet it will result in their own death. Do they not see the monster that is their father and husband? Are they that blind? Love and forgiveness—those are for the irrational, the lost, the forsaken. They cling to hope. This land has been blighted of all happiness. And now Will Chamber’s hope and life will be stripped from him.
Ruby pointed at William Chamber. She waited until the rush of energy surged from her heart to the tip of her extended finger. A shot of emerald green li
ght exploded forth and enveloped his body.
The witch turned and walked away. She passed the bailiff. “Warlock Oakstone, be sure to clean up the mess in that cell in roughly an hour.”
“Yes, your witch’s honor.” Oakstone bowed his head deeply.
Ruby stalked back to her chambers in time to keep anyone else from seeing the tears that formed. This land has been blighted of all happiness. Including mine.
<<<>>>
Will had never before experienced such pain. His head pounded, the pressure immense. His body burned, as though an internal fire had been ignited. He reached for his chest, his heart thumping irregular and rapidly. The room plunged into darkness, and even though his eyes were open, he saw nothing. His family had disappeared. In their place stood creatures, golems, goblins, among others. They all lunged at him, attacking him.
But he could not defend himself. He could hardly move. His body twisted and writhed around in pain. His bones grew and snapped, his body misshapen and malformed. Hair sprouted on his hands and feet and spread to cover the rest of his body. His teeth grew longer and sharper, and his mouth produced excess salvia, dripping onto the floor.
A golem laid a hand on Will, and he snapped. He crouched onto all fours and launched at the creature, sending it sprawling against the cell wall. The golem’s head connected and, with a sickening crunch, its neck broke. It slumped to the floor. A trail of blood dripped from the point of contact to where the dead creature now lay.
The scent of blood filled the room and enraged Will. He was here because of death and now, death surrounded him once more. But the musty, rustic smell permeated his nostrils as he heaved in heavy, gulps of air, and his stomach rumbled. He shook violently. Despite his best intentions, his new body craved death and destruction.
A goblin poked a spear toward Will, and Will snapped it in half with his fangs. Then he snuck them into the goblin’s light green soft flesh and tore its neck.
The other creatures, a centaur, an ogre, a troll, and large bird were no matched for Will’s strong new form. Within minutes, they were all dead, their bodies torn to shreds.