by JD Franx
Giddeon quickly swallowed. “We talk, northerner, but defile your speak and all die, yes?”
Giddeon nodded and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his robe.
“It is good to see you again, Chief. I am happy to see you healthy and still in power,” he said.
The tribal chief snorted. “You be, yes. Others leave you gutted and rotting by this day, take only women.”
“You’re right, but we’re not here to start war, Chief Vattis. We’re merely looking for two young women from the castle in Cethos. They were just days ahead of us. They didn’t know where your lands began; they are just foolish young girls, Chief, that is all. Let us take them home and we will pay for breaking the treaty. We can grant you more land if the tribes need it, or maybe supplies. Anything you need,” Giddeon said, speaking as fast as he could while still making sure that Vattis Taktala understood his words.
“You are too late. The women you seek belong to others now, two days my Bala track them. They come deeper into Taktala land. We stop them. Now you come. The Taktala remember you, defiler. Your magic destroyed many innocent lives. Northern magic,” he spat. “Defiles the spirits. Treaty states no entry to forest for no reasons. You should not have crossed Taktala land. Forget about foolish girls. Worry about all tribes gather in two moons to decide on war. You too late,” the chief stated, matter-of-fact. Pointing to each of the prisoners Chief Vattis added, “At rise of new sun, you will be sold. Any that try to escape will bring punishment for all. Speak words to defile the spirits one time and you will lose tongues.” He pulled a hooked blade from his belt as if to emphasize the threat. “Do as commanded, no more.” With a spin of his long, dirty, fur coat, the Taktala chief was gone.
One of the guards untied all their feet, double-checked to make sure the cage was secure, and left.
Kasik looked around carefully as he ate. “We have six guards watching us, two are almost out of our sight in the trees. All have those damned blowguns, Giddeon. Getting out of here won’t be easy.”
Ember had other concerns. “What the hell did he mean by we will be sold at the rise of the sun?” she asked, looking from Giddeon to Yrlissa.
“Giddeon,” Yrlissa said, her voice emotionless. “Tell us all you know of these people. I haven’t had a lot of experience with them in recent centuries.” Ember watched the ArchWizard closely. He sighed as if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, and she was positive he had aged a hundred years in the last two days alone. The guilt of triggering a fourth Wildlands war was eating at him.
Giddeon nodded at Yrlissa and backed himself up against the cage’s woven-branch wall. Leaning against it, he took a couple of deep breaths.
“First off,” he began, “some history, for Max and Ember. We have been to war against the tribes that live in this forest three times. I was in Ellorya and DormaSai during the first so I didn’t fight during that one—it was about seventy-five years ago. Oddly enough, we were trying to avoid a war between those two countries in the south. As for the other two Wildlands Wars, I fought in both. Kasik was with us for the last one which ended twenty-five years ago. Cethos has always been the dominant power of the Blood Kingdoms, we came to aid Yusat all three times the Wildland tribes invaded their country. My predecessor, the ArchWizardess, Calladia Veht, was in charge of magic for that first war.”
Ember swallowed the last bite of her food and set the wooden bowl aside. “Why did they invade?” she asked. “Surely they must have known they were outmatched.”
“Slaves and land,” Kasik replied. “Can’t grow your tribe without land, and you don’t gain power within the tribe without slaves. Believe me, they’re not as outmatched as you might think.”
Giddeon nodded and carried on. “Kasik is right. All of Wildland tribal society is founded around slavery, which allows the warriors to train, hunt, and fight from a young age because they have no other responsibilities. And the more land a tribe has, then the better they can hunt and forage, eventually increasing their numbers. When morning comes, we’ll be sold to whichever tribe member has the most to barter with,” he guessed.
Ember felt the blood rush from her face and fear gnawed at her stomach. “Wait. What the hell happens to us women if we get sold to someone who wants a wife? Or worse? What then?”
“I’m sorry, Ember. Those sleep darts will put us down before we get anywhere close to freedom. Even your jump spell takes time to activate, if you can even do it again. We’d be shot full of sleep darts before you finished the spell. For now, we have to do as we’re ordered. Keep your head down and don’t attract attention,” Giddeon insisted. Ember shook her head as Yrlissa put an arm around her for support.
“Fuck, Giddeon, we really stepped in shit this time didn’t we?” Max asked, though it clearly was not a question.
“We did. I would’ve bet a year’s salary teaching at the Eye that Vattis would negotiate for more land and weapons or maybe even female slaves. I never thought he would be set on war so quickly. The Taktala are the most civil-minded of all the tribes, it doesn’t bode well,” Giddeon said, rubbing his face with his hands.
“What the hell changed then?” Max asked. “He doesn’t look like a very forgiving man. I bet they don’t make many mistakes when it comes to their slaves either. Their security is better than any terrorist camp I’ve seen back home. I’ll keep an eye out, but I doubt they’ll slip up enough for us to get away,” Max said.
Kasik offered the only explanation to Max’s original inquiry. “You have to understand, Max, these tribes suffered horrendous casualties during the war. Thousands of lives were lost on both sides, but they don’t have the numbers that we do. Three of Vattis’ sons died during the final battle, and it made him push the other tribes for a peace with us, in the hopes of saving more lives. My guess is that he’s regretting his decision now.”
Giddeon nodded. “Uh huh. That’d be my guess, too. Vattis, as well as these other tribes down here, all know that either side could have won the last war. They would’ve actually, had the Sartaq joined the war.”
“The Sartaq?” Max asked.
“The Sartaq,” answered Kasik. “Outcasts from all the tribes. Giddeon? You know the story better than most, from what I’ve heard.”
Ember noticed a visible shudder strum its way through the ArchWizard’s body.
“The Sartaq,” he began once more. “That’s a word I had dearly hoped to never hear again. It’s a tribal word, means ‘death-talkers’. Calladia told me that the ones they faced during the first war almost tipped the balance in favour of the tribals. I have... I... Well, let’s just say I enjoyed the company of one of their witch doctors for a time. It was a personal matter—one I’d rather not repeat. The Wildland tribes hate and fear the magic we use; they call it defiling the spirits, and they refer to us wizards as Defilers. Their priestesses and shamans down here practice a type of nature or environmental magic. We don’t understand how it works, but it’s pretty weak compared to ours. The tribes won’t let us get close enough to study it or find out anything about it. The Sartaq, though, they somehow manage to use both—a mix, but the two magics seem to corrupt each other, making a strange type of spirit magic. That’s our guess anyway. The things they were capable of gave Calladia nightmares until the day she died...” His body shook with chills at the memories, and Ember could only stare in horror.
A commotion from the centre of the camp ended their conversation, and more guards headed for the caged compound, dragging two young women by their hair. The gate flung wide and the others could only watch as the two women, still in their teens, were tossed into the caged area like sacks of garbage. Kasik managed to catch the first and the second crashed into Ember and Yrlissa and all three tumbled to the ground. Ember was quick to regain her feet and carefully turned the young girl over.
Saleece gasped, catching them all by surprise. “Father, it’s Princess Corleya!”
“Shh! They don’t need to know that,” he whispered, as he crept over to see how ba
d the king’s daughter was hurt. As he bent over her to check, the princess’ eyes popped open and the recognition of who she was looking up at lit up her eyes with what Ember recognized as desperate hope.
“Master Giddeon, is that you? Why are you here?” she asked, as a smile of disbelief showed on her face.
“We came to get a foolish young princess. Now we’re slaves along with you, and the Wildland tribes prepare for war. I hope your decision to run from the castle was worth whatever you were trying to do. You’ve condemned the Blood Kingdoms to another Wildlands war,” he scolded.
“I’m so sorry, Giddeon. I fled to save Alia’s life. Father sentenced her to death for helping me train to fight. He’s not the same man he used to be. You must have noticed the change in him.”
“I’ve noticed, but he is still the king. Please forgive all our familiarity over the next while, but we can’t let these tribes know who you really are. Understand?” he whispered.
“I do, and that’s fine, but what about father? Do you know what is wrong with him? You said you’ve seen the change as well?” she asked, clearly hopeful that he would know something.
“I have, Corleya, but I don’t know why. He seems less inclined to listen to council and just demands things to be done, even sending us here without listening to any other options and knowing it would start a war.”
Corleya placed her hands on Giddeon’s. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I thought that if I could save Alia, and we brought the Kai’Sar to him, he would see that a woman could be Queen by leading her country, even in battle. The Bale monarchy has had many queens who have fought,” she explained.
Giddeon’s face paled with shock at the sheer stupidity of what the princess said. Ember shook her head. She knew that even as experienced as he was, having to face his son and the only living DeathWizard was a terrifying prospect. It was not something for a young princess to be playing games with.
“That is the most foolish thing I have ever heard come from your mouth, Corleya,” he said. “There is a reason there are six of us hunting this wizard,” he said, swiftly putting his hand up to silence Ember and Max before they said something. “And I don’t believe for a second that all of us will survive the encounter.”
“I... I... just assumed their power was an exaggerated myth. I didn’t know. Gods, I’m so sorry,” she cried, as she pulled her knees up and hid her face in her hands.
“It’s all right. We cannot turn back what has been done, so we must do better in the future, right?” he said, offering soft words of scholarly advice. Without looking up, she leaned against Giddeon and nodded.
“I think we should all get some rest,” Max said. With a touch of sarcasm, he added, “I’m told we have a busy morning coming up. And, Giddeon, might be better if everyone called her Cora, maybe? Something other than her princess name.”
The ArchWizard nodded in agreement and everyone chose a spot on the bare ground to get some rest. Princess Corleya... Cora... never left Giddeon’s side.
Morning came quickly when sleeping on the damp ground with no blankets to protect one from the night’s chill. The Taktala guards had the prisoners up just after dawn. Corleya and Alia, were taken from the cage and sent to their owners. The rest were fed a mashed grain gruel that neither Ember nor Saleece could get down. The men, all of whom at one time had eaten battlefield rations or worse, devoured the food like a pack of hungry wolves.
After they finished the meal, they were dragged to the centre of the camp where a small platform five feet high and four times as long had been erected overnight for the sole purpose of selling the new slaves. Like all captured slaves or those not native to the Wildlands, Corleya, Alia, and the others would continue to be locked up at night and kept under guard until they were no longer considered a flight risk. Chief Vattis was in charge of the proceedings and none of the back and forth was in the common tongue. When Saleece was chosen to be sold first, blades were placed to the throats of the other five and the chief spoke so they could understand.
“You fight and you die.” He said nothing else before continuing.
The bartering for Saleece carried on for fifteen minutes as the leader of the party who brought them in, Bala Takma, and one of the female warriors were in a heated dispute over who wanted her the most. Though he could have taken her as his right in being track leader, Takma never took any slave they captured. Instead he turned them over so the bartering was fair for all. Every single person of the tribe respected him for decisions like that.
Finally, Takma was forced to back down as the price became too high. The other warrior cheered and danced in triumph as her mohawk-cut hair flopped back and forth and others with her hooted and hollered at her success.
With a blade still at Saleece’s neck, the tribe’s high priestess stepped up onto the platform and checked her over, chanting in their primitive tongue as she examined her. The priestess stopped behind the new slave and slipped a slave collar around her neck, locking it with a small flare of magic.
Saleece and Giddeon both recognized the collar. The Pogahna. A woven collar enchanted with tribal magic and designed to deaden a mystic’s power. They worked well, but could be overcome with time and effort. The subtlest smile crept onto Giddeon’s lips; one of the trials a master wizard must pass to become an ArchWizard was to circumvent a Poghana. It took him a week during his trials, but Giddeon was the only wizard to do it in almost a hundred years. Saleece had been practicing for over a year, even though she was decades away from her own master trials, but still hadn’t been able to get by the collar’s effects.
It was one more technique the Taktala used to reduce the chances of an escaped slave. It was the first mistake that Max said to watch for. Giddeon’s smirk soon vanished though, as the winning warrior walked up the platform and dragged Saleece away by her attached collar, disappearing through the crowd. Ember feared what might happen to her. Kasik lost control, head butting the guard in front of him and leaping from the raised platform. Max was only a second behind the Northman, but both were hit repeatedly by sleep darts the moment they touched the ground. Max held out for a half minute longer, tackling one of the blowgun warriors. His extra weight and size made all the difference as he jumped to his feet and stomped the warrior repeatedly before finally succumbing to the sleep poison.
A guard punched Giddeon in the kidney and shoved him to the front of the platform. After Max and Kasik were dragged back to the platform unconscious, Giddeon was sold to the old man in charge of making the tribe’s poisons. Ember stared incredulously as the ArchWizard shook his head at the irony. The sale went off without any problems. After his examination, the priestess attached a Poghana to his neck and the old poisoner led him away.
Max and Kasik were both sold to the grizzled warriors in charge of training the tribe’s young fighters. After close scrutiny, the priestess shook her head at the notion of a Pogahna and a heavy leather slave collar laden with big rings was attached instead. Neither man stirred from their dart-induced slumber.
With only Ember and Yrlissa left, they were brought up to the front of the platform together. The hooting and cheering increased tenfold as every warrior in the tribe seemed to be there and ready to barter for the two women.
Ember shook with fear, but stood tall and stared defiantly at the crowd. Yrlissa smiled her way, nodding at her refusal to shed a single tear or break under the stress of the situation.
“If one of those men buys us,” Ember whispered. “I’m jumping us out of here. I don’t care if it kills me. I can’t go to one of them. I won’t. I’ve never been with anyone besides Kael. I won’t allow it. I’d rather die than be used as a plaything every day. I swear to god, Lissa,” she rambled.
“Calm down, mai-nahlla. Let us see what happens. There is more interest in us than men. You must be strong; you know your love is out there. You must live for him. Be strong for him, but right now, be stronger for yourself. The Fae have other ways to defend themselves.”
The bartering
began as the two talked back and forth, one by one the men dropped off as the price went higher and higher. The Chief put the two youngest looking women together to be sold as a pair because his daughter wanted both for herself. More men dropped out of the auction as the Chief’s daughter bid aggressively, pushing the price higher, until no one else could pay what she offered. Vattis’ tactic worked perfectly. The final warrior cursed and stormed off into the crowd as the cheering reached a fever pitch.
Ember looked at Yrlissa one more time. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know, nahlla. It appears a young woman has bought us both,” she guessed.
“Oh, thank you, God,” Ember prayed as she fell to her knees in gratitude.
“Never let looks deceive you, nahlla. We watched Saleece get dragged away by a woman. It may not be so in this situation, but being sold to a woman in one of the cities that still have slavery could mean being bought by a madame, or worse, by some crazy Braiga.”
“Braiga?”
“An insane wizard. That pleasant feeling when you get when you use magic, you felt it in the pass before you jumped us to Corynth?”
Ember nodded. “Yes, right before it kicked my ass and stopped my heart.”
“Well, some wizards, very few, thank the gods, become addicted to the euphoria of magic and use it all the time, for everything. But when you do, that feeling weakens and so they use more magic, chasing the way it used to feel. It doesn’t take long before they go insane chasing something that their actions are pushing farther away. They’re dangerous and disturbed and they can’t be reasoned with, and if you ever come across one, mai-nahlla, kill it and don’t hesitate. Most can play with magic far more powerful than Giddeon’s, or mine. Experience and time is what makes a wizard grow in power, but the insane are not bound by the same rules we are. Pain and exhaustion mean nothing to them, while such things limit our magic.” Ember nodded as the priestess approached, hissing at them to be silent.
The Taktala high priestess placed a Pogahna on Yrlissa, but stopped when she came to Ember. Confused, she shook her head as if clearing a dizzy mind and then continued putting a Pogahna collar around her neck, pushing her red hair to the side.