Death Flag

by Richard Haygood

  Madison was jerked around behind the wagon as he began his forced march. There was enough play in his bindings that he wasn’t exactly hugging the small wooden cart at all times, but he wasn’t free to move about at will either. In the end, he resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to find a way out of his predicament anytime soon. It was tempting to think about breaking free and running off and disappearing into the fog, but that was little more than a dream, and he knew it. He seriously doubted that they’d be able to follow him for very long in the thick haze, and he didn’t consider himself worth the time it would take for someone to carefully track him down. So, if he was actually able to make an escape, there was a good chance he’d actually make it away from them before they were able to catch up to him. The only problem was that he had no way of cutting through the rope. He had plenty of time to examine it while they were moving—he had even tried rubbing it up against cart in the hopes of fraying it when the guards were all busy with other tasks—and he knew that it was going to take a lot of time and a lot of work to make his way through it.

  The fog was slowly being burned away as the day wore on, but it began to look like it was going to stick around for the entire day—and that was a good thing as far as he was concerned. If this was a common occurrence, it meant he didn’t have to make his move anytime soon. He’d be able to bide his time until the right opportunity came along and then disappear without much to worry about.

  He was led along for several hours, and he spent that time trying to learn as much as he could about his captors. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to actually pick up on much more than what he already knew. They had taken up positions around the small convoy almost as soon as they started moving, and they made it seem as if it was a fairly common routine for them. There was little-to-no communication between them, and the fact that they moved into position without the slightest exchange belied the fact that they probably worked the same jobs every day. He was about to count seven shapes as they moved through the mist, constantly keeping their prisoners moving together.

  That was the second thing that Madison picked up on: it took very little encouragement or cajoling for his fellow captives to fall into line. Just as they had all stood up in unison at an incoherent, barked command, they all seemed to know exactly how and when they were supposed to move. There were a handful of times when someone behind him stumbled, and one of the guards would growl at them, but that was it. No one showed the slightest inclination to run away, escape, or attempt to fight their way free. That meant that they had already accepted their situation for one reason or another, and that worried him. He was sore from where he had been beaten, but it was hardly enough to even take his attention away from his walk as he was marched along. That meant his earlier suspicion about the guards pulling their punches—or their kicks, in this case—was most likely correct. If that was the case, it wasn’t likely that the captives had been beaten into submission.

  Madison suddenly remembered that the guard had made another comment as well, and it had struck Madison as odd at the time. He had said that they were taking ‘old men and cripples’ to market. Now that he had time to think about it, that actually told him a lot of information. He had automatically assumed that the man was being derogatory. If he wasn’t, however, it meant that the people behind him were the elderly and infirm; and, if that was true, they probably didn’t have the energy or willpower to attempt an escape. Even a modicum of force and a show of strength would likely be enough to keep them in line in most cases.

  The group stopped long enough for a water skin to be passed up and down the line. He wasn’t a germ freak by any means, but he was grateful for the fact that he was first in line. He had seen and smelled enough men in the last half day to know that he had absolutely no desire to drink after them. He was allowed a single mouthful of lukewarm water before one of the guards took the pouch from him and passed it on to the next person in line, and Madison made a mental note to get as much down as he could next time. That was the first drink of water that he had in almost a day, and it was barely enough to wet his throat and just made him crave more.

  Then, almost as suddenly as they had stopped, the group was moving again. This time, however, it was a much shorter trip before they came to a stop. He hadn’t been paying attention where they were headed. In fact, he was just blindly following the cart in front of him since he didn’t have much choice to do otherwise, and the fog continued to obscure his view of the forest around them. When he heard the sound of the surf pounding against the shoreline, however, he inwardly groaned. He had either landed on a small peninsula or an island, neither of which was likely, or he had come full circle back to where he had started on the ocean. The forest ended a few minutes later, something he only noticed because they no longer had to turn from side to side in order to avoid the massive tree trunks, and the leaf-covered forest floor he had been walking along for hours gave way to a sandy beach, and his fears were confirmed.

  “Hoy!” a voice shouted from somewhere up ahead as a way of greeting.

  The wagon slowed, and the group came to a halt. Madison heard the sound of footsteps as another group approached and then slowed to a stop as well.

  “You have any luck?” someone asked flatly. He wasn’t certain, but he thought it was the same man who had spoken to him earlier.

  “Not bad. Not bad,” the second voice answered. “No real prizes, but we definitely picked up some serviceable women that will fetch a decent price. Managed to nab few children too. They’re all still young enough that they can be trained up proper. It’d be a waste of ‘em, but I bet Maulg would pay a pretty price for them.”

  “Bah,” the man spat, his disdain obvious. “No way I want to make the trip up to see that deranged old crone. Better off leaving the lot at market and takin’ our chances there.”

  “Probably right,” the second agreed in a low voice. “Options there, though. We ain’t raided up that way in a bit either. Might be worth the trip if we can pick up a few more on our way.”

  “Bah,” the man repeated. “Bunch of inbred hill folk that disappear soon as you come near them. Spend as much time chasing them through the woods as you would marching the lot we got now up there. Forget it. Just hitch those others in line, and let’s head for the market at Marpot like we planned. I’m ready for a warm bed and a hot woman.”

  There was a murmur of agreement from the other guards, and that seemed to put the issue to rest. One of the guards came around to the back of the wagon, leading a second string of slaves along behind them. Just like those who had been mutely following along behind Madison all day, this new group willfully complied with the simple directions the man gave to them. The man untied Madison from the wagon, completely ignoring him after giving him a cursory glance from head to toe.

  “Where’d you find this one?” he asked curiously. “Doesn’t look like he’s from Lukerest. Too well fed.”

  “Eh?” a voice asked in surprise, as if he had already forgotten about Madison’s existence after a few short hours. “Oh, that one. Hah! The happy fellow sauntered into the camp this morning a bit after daybreak. Was all too happy to just hop in line with the rest and come along with us!”

  “Hah! You’re kidding me!” The man gave Madison another look, but unlike before, this one set Madison on edge and made his skin crawl. “Might have to keep this one fer myself!” he declared boldly, his eyes roaming all up and down Madison’s body. “There something exotic about him that stirs my blood.”

  “Bah. You’re even more perverted than that old Maulg, you know that?” Then, as a warning, he said, “I don’t care what you do with your free time, but don’t be messing around with my merchandise. If anything happens to him before we get him to Marpot, I’ll take it out of your ass instead. Got it?”

  Madison caught on to what was being implied, and he watched the newcomer warily. He didn’t expect the man to force himself on him with the other guards watching, but he knew he’d have to be careful
not to find himself in a bad situation. If there was any chance that he might end up alone with this slime, he would have to find a way to avoid it. Being put in a situation where he couldn’t fight back while someone tried to force himself on him was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

  The man must have caught on to what Madison was thinking because, in a low tone, he said, “Don’t worry, precious. I’ve had bigger and better than you before. I’ll be sure to treat you right when I come see you later.” With that, he turned his back on Madison and began issuing orders to the line of slaves behind him.

  He apparently expected Madison to comply with the same tamed enthusiasm that everyone else did, but Madison wasn’t having it. He swallowed down the revulsion he felt rising up in the back of his throat, recovered from the shock caused by the man’s brazen attitude and quickly lashed out with his foot, kicking the man in the back of the knee as hard as he could. The man’s legs went out from under him as his knees buckled, forcing him down into a kneeling position to stop from completely hitting the ground. Madison was on him an instant later. He wrapped his bound wrists around man’s throat from behind and cranked his head back as hard as he could.

  The other guards surged forward as soon as Madison made his move and grabbed ahold of the would-be rapist, but they were too far away to stop him from wrapping the man up in a stranglehold and locking himself in position. The first to arrive tackled both men to the ground in an attempt to shake Madison loose, but Madison refused to let go of his hold on the man. All three tumbled to the ground in a tangled heap, and Madison took advantage of the opportunity and wrapped his legs around the man’s waist as well. He tightened his grip into a full-on chokehold and leaned back, putting as much pressure as he could on the man’s windpipe.

  The first guard recovered and scrambled around just as the second arrived and began raining down fast punches into Madison’s head. The second man scuttled to a stop and tried to drive his boot down into Madison ribcage by stomping on him, but he ended up tramping on his friend as much as he did Madison. The bruised ribs Madison had suffered earlier screamed out a constant reminder that he was going to be in for a world of pain if this kept going, but that only served as encouragement for him to squeeze down on the man’s throat even harder. If they were going to dish out a serving of pain, he was going to send it right back to them—and there was no way he was going to live in fear of being molested on top of being led around on a leash like an animal.

  He was tired, he was dehydrated, and he was hungry. He had been marched around all day while tied to a wagon after almost drowning the day before after narrowly escaping death at the hands of a deranged maniac pirate. He had been planted wherever this was by some blonde bimbo witch for some crime he didn’t remember committing, and now he had to deal with this. It was just too much. He had been pushed beyond the point that he could simply keep accepting things as they were. And he was just pissed. Pure and simple anger. There wasn’t anything he could do to change the fact that he was probably going to be marched into the ground and then sold at auction like a common cow, but he could stop this. There was no way he was going to live in fear of being raped every day until he was led across the auction block.

  The first man gave up on punching Madison in the side of the head after a few blows and instead decided to try pulling him off instead. He grabbed ahold of Madison and put him in a chokehold similar to the one Madison had on the rapist, and about five seconds later, someone else arrived and stuck a sword in Madison’s face.

  Madison grinned manically as he stared up the length of the blade without ever releasing his hold. Recognizing the pudgy man from earlier, he grinned even more broadly and choked out, “How much?” It was a struggle to get the words out around the man trying to choke him from behind, but the guard’s hold wasn’t nearly as good as Madison’s. He didn’t get an immediate answer from Pudgy, but the sword didn’t waver and stick into him either. “Who’s worth more?” he asked through clenched teeth and in a voice that was so rough that it was almost a growl. “Me or him?”

  The sword was still for a moment and then jabbed forward into the guard’s eye. The body he was wrapped around thrashed around violently and uncontrollably before it went limp and then remained still. Madison maintained his grip on the dead guard until the bright red blade was withdrawn from the man’s skull. Once that happened, he let go of the corpse and pushed it away from him, holding his hands out to show that he wasn’t going to attack anyone else.

  The guard behind him temporarily released his grip on Madison’s throat, but a moment later, several pairs of hands hauled him to his feet. He knew that he had taken a huge risk, one that was more likely to result in his own death rather than any other outcome, but that fear had gone out the window the moment that foul man had threatened him. He had been counting on the fact that greed would outweigh any sense of comradery these people might feel for one another, and the gamble had paid off. Not only had he just taken out a possible threat to Pudgy’s merchandise, he had increased Pudgy’s share of the profits as well. As far as Madison was concerned, he had just done them both a favor.

  His lips curled back in a cocky half-smile. He locked eyes with Pudgy and said, “You can thank me by just skipping past the beating these boys are about to give me.”

  Pudgy faked looking thoughtful and said, “And deny them their vengeance? Oh no, I don’t think so.” Turning his back to them and walking off, he said, “Just make sure he can walk after, boys. Still a long way to go before dark.”

  And then the beating started. They lined up and took turns punching him while someone else held him in place from behind—not that he could have done much to stop it with his hands bound as they were anyway. They focused their strikes in his face, though several took shots into his already-complaining ribs, but most seemed to avoid those. By the time they were done, his lips were split open in several places, one eye socket was swollen, and he was spitting up mouthfuls of blood. But, true to Pudgy’s warning, he was still able to walk. He was slightly delirious from all the blows to the head, and he was having trouble seeing out of one eye, but he still knew which way was up and how to walk forward in a straight line. He had little regard for any single one of them as anything more than a common thug, but he had to admit that they could hand out a beating the right way.

  When they were finished, the band of slavers tied Madison’s wrists together with a thicker leather cord, replacing the rough and bulky rope, shackled him to the rear of a cart, and then they set about finally combining the two different groups of slaves. The new adult men who were able to walk were bound in a similar fashion and then strung out in a second line next to the original so that they would have no choice but to follow the person in front of them. A pair of large wooden cages were brought up from somewhere and loaded onto the back of the cart, and the few women and children who had been taken were forced inside. The slavers had seemingly been more interested in gathering men than women or children, likely because of the value they would bring at market, but they had still taken a few scrawny, half-starved individuals nonetheless. Madison shuddered when he thought about the fate that was in store for them.

  Once they were finished, they resumed their march along the coast. Much to his distress, they remained on the beach as they marched south for almost half a day. Walking through sand was a chore, even on a good day, but being forced along at someone else’s pace without being able to stop or rest was pure torture. Before even the first hour passed, his calves were burning and his feet felt like they were going to cramp up. He was still wearing the same heavy work boots that he had on the day before this all started, and they felt like anchors tied around his ankles, constantly dragging him down in loose sand.

  Sometime before night, the group turned east and began making its way inland. The terrain became relatively flat again, exactly as it had before, but rather than returning to a solid forest floor, it remained an odd combination of sand and soil and rocky terrain that never real
ly supported his body weight. There was always a slight amount of give with every step he took, and by the time night set in completely, something he was only aware of due to the change in bird calls, Madison was struggling to stay upright. The unrelenting pace of the wagon in front of him refused to let him ever slow down and rest or to catch his breath, and every time his feet slipped out from under him, the person behind him would stumble and fall, inevitably tripping over him as well.

  By the time the group finally stopped for the night, Madison was completely exhausted. He was used to working on his feet for hours at a time, but that had been in a warehouse on solid concrete floors. The long forced march over rough terrain had made him ache in ways that he hadn’t experienced in years. Two guards came around as soon as they halted. One began lashing their feet together, presumably so that they couldn’t try and run away during the night, and the other handed him a bucket of water and a ladle. They were each afforded just a single mouthful of precious water before they were forced to pass it on to the next person. Having learned his lesson from his last experience, he sucked down the largest possible mouthful he could without choking on it. The water tasted stale, and he could see several small bugs floating on the top of the water in the bucket, but he didn’t care. After the long march in the hot sun, the warm, tepid water tasted delicious. Once that task was completed, and the slaves were sufficiently hobbled together, the guards forced the men down onto their knees in line where they stood and then completely down onto the ground. Madison had just enough energy to spare a glance over his shoulder at the man behind him before giving up and succumbing to exhaustion.