Wild Wastes Omnibus

by Randi Darren

  “Oh, love, my honey bunch, buttercup, sweetums, you know I’m only bragging,” Deskil responded, beaming up at the woman.

  As a pair, they seemed ill fit at first glance.

  Minnie had to be in her mid-thirties, and Deskil, only he knew. Dwarves lived considerably longer than humans.

  Vince smiled, watching them get wound up. “Minnie bought him about a decade ago at the auction. She runs the shop, he makes the equipment,” Vince said under his breath to Fes.

  Fes grunted at his explanation.

  Minnie suddenly looked to Vince and gave him a bright smile. “Who’s this?”

  “This is Fes. I… picked her up in the Wastes,” Vince explained, stepping to the side, one hand held up towards Fes.

  “Fes?” Deskil rumbled. His bushy eyebrows came down over his eyes. It looked like he wanted to say more but held his tongue.

  The Orc woman nodded her head once at the two, silent.

  “She, uh, she doesn’t talk much, but she’s picking up the language quick. Came in to pick up some armor for her. Can’t have her running around with me without protection, after all.”

  Vince walked over to one of the wooden mannequins that lined the wall. Reaching out, he fingered the chainmail that it wore.

  “With her strength, I was thinking a mail hauberk. Wrists to knees. Matching gambeson, of course.”

  “Course. Makes sense. I’ve got something in mind. One adjustment, probably. Her chest is a bit bigger. Could walk out with the mail today in a few hours, or come back before you head out for the evening. Anything else?” Deskil asked, his mind having made a choice and setting it aside.

  “Need a longsword just shy of being a great sword. Preferably one that she can wield one-handed but not hit the ground from a guard pose,” Vince offered up, his eyes moving to the side wall where the swords were.

  “Oh, we can definitely do that. Again, I think I have something you can take home with ya today. She’ll be a force to be reckoned with. I take it you won’t need that… thing anymore?” Deskil asked, pointing at the freakish sword strapped to Fes’s back.

  Fes looked to him but said nothing. She was letting him make the choice.

  He knew, knew it without using his empathic gift, that even if she never swung it again, she’d still wish to keep it.

  “We’ll be keeping it. All in price?” Vince said turning to the dwarf.

  “Call it twelve for the whole thing and you’ve got a deal.”

  Damn. That’s… quite a bit.

  Then again, he knew that Deskil was probably already giving him a low price.

  He also knew he had a surplus of captured prize weapons from things he’d killed in the Wastes. He’d have to pack up a good portion of them and bring them in and get his money back.

  It wasn’t as if he were poor, though. His parents had left him with near five thousand standards. And that was what they had buried under a cement block in his home. In the local bank, his parents had two thousand standards available to him.

  He’d added another three thousand to that number in the bank through his various contracts and being frugal with selling his prizes.

  Just collecting dust anyways. Too many swords for one man.

  Unless someone wanted to contract the purchase of, say, werewolf teeth, he had no reason to sell any from his giant bag of werewolf teeth that was in his trophy room.

  “Done,” Vince said, not wanting to haggle. Pulling the coins out of a flat purse strapped to the inside of his armor, he set them down on the counter. “We’ll be around to pick it up later. We won’t be st—”

  “Staying the night, I know. You never did, never will. Right, no time like the present,” chuckled the dwarf. Stumping towards a table, he began rubbing his hands together.

  Minnie watched the Dwarf with a smile before turning back to Vince.

  She mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ and then went back to the office in the back.

  Vince turned and left the blacksmith shop, pulling Fes along with him.

  “They don’t get as much business as they should. People seem to think Deskil makes inferior equipment. Contrary to that belief, I think his work is phenomenal.”

  Fes once more said nothing. She had nothing to add, so she said nothing.

  “That leaves us with some time to kill. Anything you want to see?” Vince asked the Orc, looking over to her.

  “Auction,” came the immediate response.

  “We could do that. Never really been to one. I’ve seen them in passing, but… it’s one thing to kill a Wastelander in the Wastes. It’s another to sell them into slavery,” Vince said, shaking his head. Turning to the left, they set off down the boulevard again.

  “You don’t sell or buy?” Fes asked.

  “No. I don’t.”

  Silence settled down between them. Comfortably so.

  As the road turned a bit, Vince could see the auction square up ahead. It was placed next to the river since a lot of slavers shipped everything by boat. Knight’s Ferry had a large auction for a town that wasn’t that big.

  Mostly because the slavers didn’t want to risk trying to get their merchandise into a bigger town. The auction guild invested here instead.

  When the government had failed, all the dams and agriculture siphons on the river had collapsed. The Stanislaus River was now very much a deep and free-flowing river. All the way to the San Joaquin.

  The slaves would be unloaded from the boats and lined up on the platform right there, then sold.

  The auction began the same time every day and would go until every slave had been up on the auction block. Sometimes there were only a few, sometimes there would be a large number.

  All depended on what they caught and brought in.

  Fresh catch of the day, Vince mused bitterly as his eyes took in the slaves.

  Having started sometime earlier, the auction was well past the halfway point.

  There would only be a few slaves that would catch high prices at the start. Most of the valued or noteworthy ones would be in the last twenty-five percent.

  It kept people around from start to finish that way.

  Even now, the specimen being sold looked little more than what could be used for housework with how malnourished it was.

  “Sold!” bellowed the auctioneer. The gavel clacked twice and the slave disappeared from sight before Vince had even gotten a good look at them.

  “So many,” Fes said quietly. At least thirty more slaves were lined up waiting for their turn.

  “Yeah, the Wastes are huge. You wouldn’t think it, but there’s some proof out there that humankind might actually be outnumbered. Some of these could be non-sales from other cities. On top of that, they could be resales. The auction doesn’t act as an intermediary. They purchase everything outright and then work to sell it at a profit. If they don’t see a sale here today, it gets shipped elsewhere to try again,” Vince explained.

  “It?” Fes sneered, her eyes latching to his face.

  Vince sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead. “Them. They.”

  Fes nodded to that and she visibly relaxed. She wore her emotions on her sleeve.

  “Next on auction is a Dryad. While we can’t confirm this, we believe she’s an ash Dryad. A Meliae,” the auctioneer called to the crowd.

  A nude woman was dragged forward from the line to stand before the crowd front and center.

  “She was caught only this morning. In fact, we believe she’s never planted a tree. If you can get her to plant a tree, she’ll be yours for as long as the tree lives. I guarantee she’s untouched as well, as she was picked up by a well-established acquisition agent. Plant your seed and have her make it grow,” crooned the seller.

  All around him, the people who had seemed interested were no longer so.

  “Like that’d happen—”

  “—dead in the week. Waste of money, I s—”

  “Good for a fuck, and then bury it—”

  “—move on already. It’s
garbage—”

  Vince frowned and looked up to the Dryad.

  She was pretty, as were all of her kind. High cheekbones with a full mouth and soft green eyes. Her face had a tenderness that invited kindness.

  The bruises and cuts from what he could only assume came from her capture diminished the wonder in the world.

  She had a skin tone that ran towards being a light tan. As the sun hit her at certain angles, her flesh almost shimmered green.

  Her pale white hair was cut short, hanging limply at the sides of her face. Topping out at five foot one, her bust size was impressive for her build. It would’ve been impressive on a six-foot woman, in truth. A thin waist and rounded hips gave her an hourglass figure that only a fantasy could produce.

  Much as everyone had said, they’d be willing to buy her if to bed her, only to bury her when she refused to plant her tree.

  A Dryad without a tree was a plant without soil. They were already dying.

  “As a reminder, don’t attempt to use the slave collar to force a tree planting. The tree dies within the hour, followed by the Dryad. Starting bid at ten standards.” With a clack of the gavel, the auction began.

  “Fifteen.”

  “Twenty.”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Thirty.”

  Vince felt a pang of regret for the little thing. Her life would be a short, ugly thing.

  Fes pulled at his forearm.

  Turning to the Orc woman, he raised his eyebrows.

  “Seed?” asked Fes.

  “Thirty-two—”

  “Ah, yeah. Seed. Have her grow the seed,” Vince said with a vague hand gesture at the ground, his eyes moving back to the auction.

  “Seed. Grow seed,” murmured Fes. “Buy her. Buy the seed grower, Vince,” Fes grumbled at him, her hand gripping his forearm more firmly.

  “Thirty-five—”

  “Err, what?” Vince asked, confused.

  “Forty—”

  “Buy the seed grower. Vince no regret,” Fes promised.

  Sighing, Vince looked back to the auction once more.

  The bids had stopped. Forty standards for a week of time with a Dryad.

  “Going once—”

  Vince hesitated. He didn’t want to buy the Dryad, and wasn’t sure what he would do with her even if he did buy her.

  “Twice—”

  The green eyes of the Dryad found his through the crowd. Before he could stop it, his empathic gift leapt free of him and enveloped the creature.

  Fear, pain, humiliation, hopelessness. An insurmountable wave of despair.

  “Vince… for Fes?” asked the Orc.

  Fes’s question snapped him free. The way she posed that question and his glimpse into the mind of the Dryad had him raise his hand immediately. “Forty-five.”

  “Fif—”

  “Sixty,” Vince said, interrupting the other man mid bid.

  There was no counter to that. In acting the way he did, he gave the impression that he would be willing to keep going.

  “Once. Twice. Sold!” shouted the auctioneer.

  Vince pressed his lips into a thin line and left the crowd. He’d have to use one of the few bank notes he kept on his person. He mostly used them for trade in towns and cities. He’d have to use one to purchase the Dryad. Sixty standards was more than he had on him in hard currency.

  He moved towards the pickup and payment table to complete the transaction for the Dryad.

  Fingering out a bank note from an inside fold of his armor, he glanced over it. It was set for one-hundred standards, which meant they’d be paying him forty in return, minus a tendering fee.

  The Dryad he’d bought stood next to the table, her eyes downcast towards the ground.

  Vince flipped the bank note and his Ranger’s license onto the table before the auction clerk could say a word.

  “Forty in return,” Vince stated.

  “Hmph.” The clerk picked up the note and Vince’s license, then checked the authorizations. Meeting whatever requirements he had, he then picked up two sheets of paper. “Five standards in fees. Five more for the services. Registration will be set without a name. Be sure to update it if she lives through the week. One moment.”

  Fes had stepped up to the Dryad and immediately unchained her.

  “Hey, you can’t—” started one of the guards.

  “Can’t what? Can’t take over my property? I’ve already paid,” Vince hissed at the man.

  Not used to having someone question him, the guard fell silent. Fes pulled the Dryad off to the side, placing it between Vince and herself.

  Vince noted two men off to one side. He vaguely remembered them from another visit.

  They’d been around the last time he was here, scowling and throwing dirty looks at every non-human they could see.

  Now they were a group of five, sequestered at the back of the auction. Even now, one was watching Vince.

  Before he could focus in on the watcher, they turned their head away.

  “Here.” The clerk shoved the license back into Vince’s hand, jarring him back into his current situation.

  An uppercase D and a lowercase S were now burned into it next to the mark for Fes. Then the man slid five rows of standards across the table to Vince. Not bothering to count it, he simply opened his waist purse and swept them inside. “Paperwork will be filed this evening with the registrar and the Ranger guild. Thank you. Next!”

  Turning on his heel, Vince slid an arm around the Dryad and escorted her back towards the clothing shop.

  “Just… tolerate this for a little bit longer. We’ll get you some clothes from the tailor and be on our way,” Vince whispered under his breath.

  The Dryad lifted her eyes and looked into his soul with that gaze. Eyes the color of fresh leaves weighed him.

  Just as quickly, the Dryad looked back down to ground. Dismissing his words.

  “Tailor, blacksmith, general store, home. Thinking our return trip may go a bit slower now, Fes,” Vince said, listing out the best plan he could come up.

  “No regret, Vince. Fes promises it,” soothed the warrior.

  “It’s fine, Fes. It’s fine. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  Hopefully.

  Chapter 5

  Three days into the return journey and they were barely past the halfway mark. It’d be another three or four assuming the Dryad could keep her current pace. Vince didn’t figure that would be likely, since she’d probably fall down and die in a day or two.

  An unplanted Dryad didn’t have long and only withered as time went on.

  Her bright white hair had faded to a dull gray, her skin becoming ashen, and her eyes turning sunken.

  Vince felt pity welling up inside him as he watched the Dryad across the faint warmth of the campfire. It was morning of their fourth day and they’d be setting a similar pace to previous days.

  She didn’t move much. She just sat there listlessly, her eyes staring into the dying coals of the fire.

  “Feel like you could eat something? Anything? Maybe a little water?” Vince asked her.

  Not looking up at him, she shook her head woodenly.

  “If you feel like you can hold something down, let me know.”

  Vince kept himself from sighing. Barely.

  Watching her wither into nothing. What a messed-up situation.

  Fes patted the Dryad on the head as she went about getting into her new clothes and armor. The warrior woman had been dubious about the armor at first, but then had immediately grown comfortable in it.

  That like had only grown again when she’d realized she lost little to no movement. Especially so when she began working with her new blade. Vince couldn’t help but feel a touch nervous with how quick Fes could rip the sword through the air with maximum force.

  He was still pretty sure he could take her in a fight, but it wouldn’t be so easy now. At all.

  The part he personally wasn’t used to was the fa
ct that Fes still wanted to have their nightly fun. Despite the Dryad being there. And watching.

  The entire time.

  The first night, the little tree spirit had been shocked when Fes had mauled him and then mounted him. She’d watched wide-eyed and unmoving.

  Vince had to wonder if she thought it would have been her on her back instead of him. Especially since that was the expectation of what she had been bought for by almost everyone else there.

  The second night, he’d managed to pin Fes to the ground. It’d been awkward with the Dryad there, but he’d gotten over it. It was that or get mounted again.

  By the third night, the Dryad either didn’t care or was too weak to care.

  As tactless as it sounds, I could always eat her. I’m sure there’s something unique about her that would help me.

  The thought didn’t appeal to him. In truth, it rather unnerved him. But his efficient personality wanted to assuage what little it could of the money it had cost to buy her.

  Distancing himself from the thought, he made his final preparations to leave. The road waited. Eating her would be a last resort, and he’d cross that bridge when it came.

  Once everything was good and ready, he slipped a hand under the Dryad’s arm and eased her to her feet.

  “Come along, little tree. It’s time for us to away. Hopefully we can make it home before… well, before.”

  Vince could only regret the fact that he didn’t have the means to break the slave collar off of her. It would restrict her from escaping, and at a certain distance begin to choke the life out of her.

  Many a slave had simply run to the extreme edge of the boundary and committed suicide in that fashion before an order could be given to not do that.

  Until he got her home, there’d be no way to get the collar off. As it was, he was pretty sure he’d signed her death warrant by buying her. Though at least if she died on the way, she could do it far from human civilization, unviolated, and in relative peace.

  With a little encouragement, the Dryad started to put one foot in front of the other. Fes nodded to Vince and fell in a few steps behind the Dryad. Vince moved up to take point.

  They’d only progressed maybe an hour down the road when Vince had a strange feeling creeping over him.