The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus

by Bethany Hoeflich

  “Change,” the guard said, not bothering to turn around to give her privacy. She stripped out of her tunic and pulled the white gown on as quickly as possible, face reddening. The guard stepped forward, eyes locked on her chest and Mara raised her arms to cover herself. “What is this?” He demanded, lifting her pendant from beneath the gown.

  She reached up to pull it back. “That’s mine. A gift from my father.”

  “It’s mine now,” the guard said and moved to cut the leather cording with his spear.

  “Stop!” another guard called. “What are you doing? We are not thieves! What would the Rei think if he saw you stealing?”

  “She is nothing. Why should it matter if I take it for myself?”

  “It will belong to her new owner. Do not shame yourself by stealing from a slave. Where is your honor?”

  Mara’s fists clenched and the cuffs bit painfully into her wrists. So, stealing from a dreg was where they drew the line, but selling people was perfectly okay? She looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at Ansel, but a flash of metal caught her eyes. Steel wore a pendant identical to hers, except the metal was dark, like smoke, and the stone in the center was a deep ebony. Where had he gotten that?

  Before she could ask, the guards shoved them roughly from the tent. Mara blinked as the bright sun seared into her eyes. They marched to the sandstone platform and prodded them up the stairs. The rough surface scratched the bottom of her bare feet and she wished that they had let her keep her boots.

  To the side, Tomar sat on a raised wooden chair, surrounded by cushions. He watched the proceedings with apparent disinterest as his concubines fanned him with leafy branches. When he spotted their group, he raised a cup to them and downed it in one gulp.

  Kerani in ornate suvalis surrounded the platform on all sides, bidding on the lots, their coin purses jangling. Mara saw a few older Kerani, wearing torn gowns and vacant expressions, chained to the side of the platform. To her horror, most of the prisoners were young children. Worse, an infant, no more than a year of age, was held up before the slavers as the crowd threw out bids. A weeping woman pressed forward, trying to climb onto the stage. When she refused to leave her baby, a guard cracked the staff of his spear across her shoulders, shouting something in Kerani. She turned, and Mara spotted red welts crisscrossing down her back.

  Mara vibrated with rage. How could they take a baby from its mother? “Steel, what are they saying?”

  He tilted his head to listen. “She was one of Tomar’s concubines. She shamed him by giving birth to a dreg.”

  “He’s selling his own child?” And here she’d thought her opinion of the Rei couldn’t fall any lower than it already was. Her jaw clenched so hard it threatened to break her teeth. If she were free, she would level this place to the ground, laughing the whole time. They didn’t deserve to exist. It didn’t matter if they were dregs or not, no one should be treated like an animal. She seethed.

  Sale after sale passed and finally it was their turn to be auctioned. The guards pushed them forward so the slavers could get a better view. Mara scanned the crowd, wondering who would bid on them. A man with an enormous waistline pushed his way through the crowd. At least one hundred golden beads decorated his garish pink suvali. A Kerani woman, surrounded by a dozen new slaves, frowned at the group, but pressed forward for a better look. Standing out in the sea of color was the stranger in black. He must be burning up in this heat, she thought. Good. If he were willing to purchase a human being, he deserved every minute of discomfort.

  The clamorous bids came fast. Too fast to keep track of. Mara glared at the slavers, not bothering to hide her revulsion. Tova cowered behind Wynn but was forced to step back into view to avoid being impaled by a spear. Steel, by contrast, was watching the proceedings with a face-splitting grin. Plan or no plan, he was officially cracked in the head.

  The black-cloaked stranger raised his arm and shouted a word in Kerani. Silence descended over the crowd as everyone turned to face him. Steel looked taken aback and Mara assumed the bid was astronomical. Her guess was confirmed moments later when the bidding ended, and the crowd dispersed.

  Tomar rushed forward to collect payment from the stranger. As they were herded off the platform, she heard them exchange words in Kerani. Tomar gestured to his slave, the same boy with the golden collar, who bowed low before sprinting down a row of tents. The Rei turned to the cloaked man, handing him a key, sunlight glinting off of its smooth surface.

  The stranger led them to a wagon, built with a metal cage on top. Mara jerked to a stop, ignoring the two-pronged spear biting into her spine. She panted, her breathing growing shallow. Wooden benches lined the interior walls. Mara eyed the cage with trepidation, reluctant to enter the tight space. It was Stonehollow all over again. Steel showed none of the same qualms, jumping inside with ease despite his bound hands. The rest of the group followed suit and squeezed inside.

  The slave boy returned, toting several bulging packs in his arms. Mara brightened at the familiar sight of her bow and quiver, happy they wouldn’t be left behind. The stranger placed them behind the driver’s seat, smart enough to not leave weapons with his new property.

  Tomar sauntered forward as the stranger locked the cage door. Mara wanted to wipe that obnoxiously smug look off his face. “Well, my friend, it appears as though I came out on top after all. This foreigner has paid double the ransom I had asked from your father.”

  “I am happy for your good fortune, my friend. Many blessings for a long, prosperous reign,” Steel said, showing no animosity. If anything, he looked anxious to leave.

  Tomar gritted his teeth. “Yes, well, I wish I could say the same for you, Prince Silvano.”

  The cart jostled violently as the horses pulled away, throwing them into each other. Mara’s head banged on the metal bars of the cage, but even the sharp pain couldn’t distract her from the Rei’s parting words.

  “Prince!” Wynn shouted, staring at Steel as though seeing him for the first time.

  Steel looked downright sheepish. “Hmm . . . surprise?”

  Mikkal snorted.

  “Your father’s a lord, huh?” Ansel said, trying to clamber back onto the bench. His feet slipped along the smooth surface, failing to find purchase.

  Steel sighed, shifting in his seat. “It was meant to be kept secret, to protect me from those who would do me harm. Believe me, if I had known that Tomar would take advantage of that knowledge, I never would have brought you here. I apologize for deceiving you.”

  “Who are you, really?” Mara asked.

  “My name is Crown Prince Silvano Miore’, formerly the heir to Crystalmoor.”

  “Formerly?” Ansel asked.

  Steel looked to Mikkal who nodded once. “I grew up being groomed for the throne. When I was a boy, dregs were not mistreated as they are now. For my father, the Miestryri lei Miore’, it was not a shameful thing to name a dreg as your successor. Back then, the Order worked in peace within our kingdom, choosing to stay out of the way, with the exception of performing Giftings, naturally.”

  “So, what changed?”

  “Two years ago, more Magi than ever moved into Crystalmoor, bringing with them an entourage of disciples and acolytes. We watched and waited, doing nothing as the people responded to this new form of fanaticism. Dregs were beaten in the streets and many were killed, but I sat behind the walls of the palace, protected by my title. A fact for which I am ashamed.” Steel paused, looking out at the desert. His eyes had a far-away look, as though he were reliving the memories. “Two years ago, my father’s closest advisor, Lucan, tried to assassinate my father. He failed. We learned that it was part of a secret plot to destabilize our family, which would have thrown the country into chaos. If he had been successful, Lucan would have claimed the title of Miestryri for himself and married one of my sisters to legitimize his reign.”

  “That doesn’t explain why ya had to leave, love.” Wynn said, stroking Tova’s hair. Considering she had traveled with
a prince for a year without knowing it, she seemed to be taking the news quite well. Mara had only known them for a month and she was reeling.

  “My father believed it was no longer safe for me in Crystalmoor. It was only a matter of time before another coup arose. I had to leave my home, my betrothed and my title behind in favor of anonymity. I shed the identity of Crown Prince Silvano and became Steel the wanderer.”

  Wynn leveled a serious look at Steel. “Prince or not, I’m not kissin’ yer arse.”

  They erupted in a peal of laughter. The stranger, hood concealing his face in shadow, peered back at them. At the sight of their flushed, sweaty faces, he pulled out a skein of water and handed it back through the bars. They passed it around, only taking a mouthful or two until they each had a drink. Mara guzzled her share greedily, not caring that it dribbled all over the place.

  As the cart took them farther from the Mubali Oasis, they sat in thoughtful silence. Mara considered Steel’s story. He’d had to give up everything because of the Order. All because he was a dreg. If he’d been Gifted, he never would have been forced to leave his home. He’d probably be sitting in a palace eating Crystalmoor’s famous seafood off of a golden platter right now.

  The wheels of the cart sank into the deep sand, slowing their progress to a crawl. Hours passed by and the sun dipped in the horizon. The Drocan Mountains to the north appeared to be getting bigger, though that could have been a trick of the sun.

  “Why are we heading north?” she asked. “I thought we would be heading to one of the smaller settlements in Kearar.”

  Steel shrugged. “The border is closer to Lingate here, so we won’t have to travel as far through the desert.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Here’s the plan. When we stop, wait until the cage is opened. Then, when his back is turned, we overpower him and take the key. If we have the key, we can free ourselves.”

  “So that’s why you asked about the collars and the brands,” Mara said.

  “Exactly. Without something to identify us as slaves, we can sneak away, none the wiser.”

  Wynn’s face stretched into a fearsome smile. She flexed her arms as best as she could given the restricted space. Ansel cracked his neck, stretching like he did when warming up for practice. Mara’s stomach somersaulted. Would this even work? A thousand things could go wrong. What if they were headed into a city? What if the stranger didn’t stop until they reached a place with guards?

  The desert gradually gave way to a barren landscape bathed in shades of dismal gray. A smell like rotten eggs wafted from the deadened lands. Mara got the impression that nothing could survive here. The sand disappeared, replaced by hard dirt that had a web of cracks running through it. If she squinted, she could barely make out a sparse forest of dying trees and the sight made her soul ache for the vibrant forests of Stonehollow. Only the rattling sound of the cart could be heard, and she wondered if anything was alive in this depressing place.

  At the foot of the mountain, the stranger stopped the wagon and walked to the back of the cart, carrying their gear in his arms. He set the packs on the ground before opening the door with a loud creak. The man stepped back and gestured for them to exit, silently watching their every move from beneath his hood. Wynn and Mikkal exchanged a slight nod, waiting for the moment he turned his back. Then, they would make their move.

  Mara fidgeted as he stared at them for a long moment from under the hood of his cloak. The fact that she couldn’t see his face was disconcerting. Could he just turn already? She was ready for this to be over already. To be free again.

  The man stepped up to Mara, grabbing hold of her arm. She let out an indignant cry but fell quiet as he unlocked her handcuffs. Blood rushed into her hands and she rubbed her wrists to ease the pain. Why was he taking off their shackles? What a moron. Ansel or Mikkal could level him in a heartbeat.

  Ansel tilted his head and gave her a pointed look, then glanced at the man.

  Right, it looked like it was up to her to take down the stranger and free the others. Mara took a deep breath, preparing herself. She tapped into her core, feeling the familiar build of power. This time, it rushed unrestrained into her limbs, as familiar as an old friend. She was about to blast him with everything she had when the stranger took her hand. Startled, she lost her grip on her powers and they sputtered away into nothing. The man pressed the key into her palm and gestured to the others.

  She looked down at the key, then up at the stranger. Either he was the worst slaver in the history of slavers or . . . “Umm . . . do you want me to take their cuffs off?”

  His shoulders shook, and she got the impression that he was laughing at her.

  “Well, okay then,” she said, moving down the row, freeing their hands. Steel and Mikkal moved into a defensive position in case this was a trap. But how could it be? Five versus one, even despite their exhaustion, wouldn’t be a fair fight. Her eyes scanned the barren land. There was nowhere for an ambush to hide. He was . . . freeing them?

  The stranger walked up to Mara and gave her a shallow bow before turning and climbing into the wagon. Without a word, he snapped the reins and drove away. Mara watched with growing confusion. Who was he? Why would he spend a small fortune, just to let them go?

  “Ya know, before we met you two, this sorta stuff never happened to us,” Wynn said, rolling her eyes.

  “To be fair, it never happened to us either before we left Stonehollow,” Ansel replied.

  “But seriously, who was that?” Mara asked.

  “Does it matter? We’re free!”

  Steel walked away a few paces, scanning the land with shrewd eyes. “I suppose we should find a place to stay for the night, then regroup in the morning.”

  As Wynn stared across her homeland, a pensive look settled on her face like mist. She seemed smaller here, as though the ghosts of her past were rising up within and she wasn’t ready to face them. Mara placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a small, comforting squeeze.

  Wynn gave her a sad smile in return and said, “No need. I know where we can stay.” She shouldered her pack, then set off towards the distant patch of trees.

  The rest of the group followed, leaving six pairs of shackles on the ground behind them.

  18

  The land was still and empty, as though the life had been leached from it, leaving nothing but a sad, wasted shell behind. Broken limbs dangling from dead trees provided a gruesome canopy as they advanced though a milky white mist that swirled with every step. Mara couldn’t see ten feet in front of her, thanks to the fog, but Wynn seemed to know where she was going. The older woman walked with a grim determination, her jaw set. She’d ignored all of their questions for the past hour until they eventually gave up and followed in obedient silence.

  The fog parted just enough to make out the shape of a farmhouse. Mara stopped, reluctant to move forward. Why had Wynn brought them here? What if it was occupied? After their captivity in Kearar, Mara was wary of strangers. Wynn showed none of the same trepidation, striding forward, her shoulders set. As Mara neared the house, she realized why. It was abandoned, no more than an empty husk.

  The inside was worse. Every visible surface was painted in dark, metallic stains, blackened with age, like the setting of a brutal massacre. And yet, Wynn’s expression registered no surprise at the scene before them, only painful acceptance. Mara wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to the woman standing before her.

  For once, Steel was rendered speechless.

  “There’s a barn out back. Prolly full of rats, but ya can sleep there tonight,” Wynn said quietly.

  “Aren’t you sleeping, too?” Mara asked.

  Wynn shook her head and whispered, “No, I can’t sleep here anymore.” She led them through the back door that hung crookedly from its hinges. Out back were twelve mounds of dirt covered with a quilt of creeping myrtle; the only color for miles. Just beyond stood the barn, made of unpainted wood. It wasn’t much to look at, but it would provide
shelter for a day or two at least while they decided where to go next. They dropped their packs inside the large, sliding doors, taking careful stock of their meager supplies.

  “Tomar kept the books,” Steel said quietly. His eyes pinched at the corners, making him appear decades older. “And the coin purse. I don’t know what to do, Mara. I . . . I don’t want to resort to thievery.”

  “We’ll figure something out,” Mara said, placing a hand on his arm. “I promise.” She didn’t know what they would do, but it seemed like he needed reassurance more than anything. They were free, and for now, that was enough. They could worry about the rest in the morning.

  Steel nodded, though he didn’t seem to hear her words. He walked to the back of the barn and laid out his bedroll before climbing inside. Mikkal leaned against the wall next to her, watching him with a frown.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Mara asked. Mikkal shook his head and shrugged. She took that to mean, ‘I don’t know,’ and kept talking. “I can’t imagine how he feels, being betrayed by someone he thought was a friend. I know you’ll take good care of him, Mikkal. He’s lucky to have someone like you.”

  Mikkal gave her a stiff nod before walking to the back of the barn to stand over Steel like a dark sentinel. Ansel, Tova and Mara laid out their bedrolls and thanked Wynn for keeping watch while they slept. Soon, the barn filled with the sound of snoring as they drifted off one by one, but Mara twisted and turned, unable to relax. She soon gave up and stepped out into the moonlight.

  A bent figure crouched between two graves, head bowed, one hand resting on each. Mara stopped short, uncomfortable with disturbing such a personal moment. Wynn obviously knew the people who were buried here.

  As if sensing her presence, Wynn raised her head, but didn’t turn to look at Mara. She spoke in a voice so low that Mara had to strain to hear. “Everything ya know about Lingate is true. Everything.”