by C. K. Rieke
“Now, as you seem to be a professional in the slave trade, you may be able to help us,” Astor said.
The leader spat at them. “I will do nothing to help you dogs.”
“If there’s one thing I know about your kind, it’s that you care about one thing.” Astor held out a pouch and shook it and the sound of clacking coins was heard. The leader touched his side, to find that Astor had stolen his purse. His eyes went wild with rage. Astor took the pouch and held it over the edge of a crevasse that fell deep and far down into the rock.
“You are going to show us the way to the Black Cave, or you will end up like Yemes, broke and dead.” Astor now had the reflection of the fire in his eyes. The leader looked at his money, then at Astor.
“My life and money for the Black Cave. You have a deal . . . However, how can you be sure whatever you are looking for will be there? It is not a place known to spit things out, only swallow them whole.”
A glint sparkled below the slaver’s throat, reflecting the warm orange glow of the fire, and Gogenanth made large strides toward him. Nervously, the slaver’s demeanor turned fearful as Gogenanth approached quickly and reached for his throat.
He grabbed at a golden chain hanging from the slaver’s neck and pulled it up over his head. Astor saw the glow of it as Gogenanth twirled it underneath his outstretched fingers.
“What is it, Gogenanth? A compass?” Astor asked.
“It’s Zaan’s compass. I’d recognize it anywhere.”
“How did you come to acquire this? Tell me now,” said Astor.
The slaver gave a sigh. “From a boy”—he gulped—“I sold to the place I’m taking you.”
Astor saw the hatred flash in Gogenanth’s evergreen eyes.
“For your sake, we’d better find him alive,” he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE next morning, after not getting much sleep, Zaan awoke to the sound of guards approaching the cell much earlier than usual. All three were there: the red-haired one, the bald one, and the quiet one. They opened the door and went straight at Zaan. The bald one and quiet one each grabbed an arm and began pulling him out of the cell.
Zaan began to panic, because when he had seen this in the past, the person never returned alive. He started to struggle. The red-haired guard slapped him forcefully across the face.
“Stop that! You resist and you’re dead! Got it? Dead!” Zaan was looking into the red-haired guard’s eyes for the first time, and they were terrifying.
They carried him out of the gate and locked the door behind them. Carrying him down a different path than he had been on before, they traveled maybe fifty yards until they came to a small dead end with two chains and restraints hanging from the back wall.
“Strip him down and search him, and if you try any of that witchcraft shit, you’re dead,” the red-haired guard said to Zaan.
Zaan was worried. Not only was he about to be chained to the wall, but possibly tortured and left there to die. They would also be sure to find the red stone, which was hidden in his clothes.
The two soldiers took his clothes off, save for his underwear. Zaan stood in the corner with his arms behind his back.
“Uhh, these things stink,” the bald guard said.
“Search them good. There’s something strange about this kid,” the red-haired guard said. “You. You’re the expensive one they brought in from Auracity. What did you do to get brought here?”
“I . . . I ran away, but got caught,” Zaan said, looking down, not wanting to look in the guard’s eyes again.
“Hmm, figures, prob’ly stole sumthin’ from the castle,” the bald guard said while sifting through Zaan’s belongings.
“Well, maggot, what happened last night with that light? If you try any of that shit here . . .” the red-haired guard said.
“I . . .” Zaan began.
The quiet guard then nudged the bald guard and held out a tight upturned fist. Everyone watched as he slowly uncurled his fingers. The bald guard’s eyes lit up in excitement.
“My . . .” The bald guard looked into the other guard’s hand. “My, my, so that’s it.” The small red stone looked like a glassy pumpkin seed in the large, sweaty hand. He held it up to the light, and he seemed enchanted by it.
“Can it be?” the red-haired guard said. “It actually exists down here?”
“Where did you find it, and why did you keep it secret?” the red-haired guard asked as he turned back to Zaan, anger written across his face.
“I found it . . .” Zaan said slowly.
“Answer me!” the red-haired guard pressed him.
“I found it about a week ago, I guess,” Zaan replied.
“You are going to show us exactly where you found this, after we send it out,” the red-haired guard said.
“Well, hold up now. We could give it up, but what if we’s sold it?” The bald guard walked slowly toward the red-haired guard. “We wouldn’t have to tell no ones,” he said. The quiet guard nodded in agreement.
“That stone is not yours! Hand it over!” The red-haired guard unsheathed his sword and held out his hand toward the other two guards. “That stone belongs to Angela Dragus the Righteous.”
“Who made you boss? There’s two of us, and one o’ you. That lady ain’t here to protect you now. This here is ours. Put yer sword down!” The two guards were both standing in defensive postures with their swords drawn.
Zaan still stood in the corner. He felt like a speck on the wall—not noticed anymore with all the commotion going on.
“Put it down!” the red-haired guard screamed.
“Make us,” the bald guard replied confidently.
The red-haired guard went at the bald guard, but the bald guard blocked and came back with a swipe of his sword. The quiet guard stood at the side, then moved behind to flank the red-haired guard.
“I’ve always hated you two. A couple of snakes is what you are,” the red-haired guard said as he took a mighty blow at the bald guard, which knocked the bald guard back.
The quiet guard came in to stab at the back of the red-haired guard, who knocked the sword aside and kicked the quiet guard in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The red-haired guard winced in pain as the bald guard hit him in the leg with his sword. The red-haired guard was lightly armored, but the sword hit a spot at the knee and slipped through.
“You son of bitch! You snake!” The red-haired guard hit down twice on the bald guard, and he was much stronger and bigger than his opponent. Both hits were blocked, but he hit down harder and closer each time. He hit a third time, and the bald guard’s wrist gave under the force of the blow. The sword pierced his skull, sinking in just enough to kill instantly.
The quiet guard, waiting for his chance, came up from behind and stabbed the red-haired guard in the left shoulder blade, while his sword was stuck in the skull of his victim.
“Ahhh! You are dead, you snake! I’m going to kill you!” the red-haired guard yelled as he squared up against the quiet guard, the sword in his right hand.
He swung at the quiet guard. “You are dead! You are dead!” he yelled as he swung repeatedly at the quiet guard, who parried the blows well. The quiet guard came in with a quick slash across the chest of the red-haired guard, who yelled furiously. His armor knocked it away, but his fury was ravenous now.
The red-haired guard laid his swings harder and harder the more enraged he became. “I’m going to kill you!” he continued to scream.
The quiet guard, who was moving fluidly, landed a hard hit across the armored shoulder of the red-haired guard, who yelled in fury as he came down with a hard blow between the shoulder and neck of the quiet guard. Blood pumped quickly from the wound.
“I told you I would kill you, you maggot, you snake! How dare you! Now the stone is mine!” the red-haired guard yelled at the quiet guard as he lay in a pool of blood, his life ebbing away as his heart’s blood left him.
“What did
I tell you? What did I—” The red-haired guard was cut short by the tip of a sword coming out through the front of his neck, splitting his Adam’s apple in two. He gurgled blood from his mouth. “What? How dare . . .” He turned to find the long, thin arms of Zaan holding the bloodied sword of the dead, bald guard. He grabbed at his neck to stop the bleeding but fell to his knees, looking up with wild, furious eyes at Zaan.
Zaan said nothing but looked back into the red-haired guard’s eyes. The light of the guard’s eyes slowly extinguished as Zaan’s eyes grew bright iceberg blue.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
THEY lay at the edge of the Cascades now, hiding behind a large, gnarled rock formation. Looking out into the distance, they saw sweeping grassy plains that stretched on as far as they could see.
“Which way?” Astor asked the slaver.
He slowly pointed straight ahead of them. “That way, a little over three days’ walk.”
“Who said anything about walking?” Astor said. “And if you can’t keep up, I’m sure my friend over here would be just as content to drag your ass.”
And then they were off, running a quick pace through the tall, soft grass, Astor at the lead, moving gracefully through the fields like a gazelle. Gogenanth was behind him, moving quickly for a big man, and he was barely winded. The slaver ran behind, clumsily and laboriously, with his hands bound.
***
Two days passed, as they ran during the day, stopping only as they needed. A warm fire refreshed their bodies in the evenings.
They were now looking out at the entrance to the Black Cave, which had two guards.
“Are there any more guards on the inside?” Gogenanth asked of the slaver.
“I’m not sure. I’ve never been inside before. The doors are sealed with solid iron bars. You would need a key to get in,” the slaver responded.
“Do either of those guards have the key?” Astor asked.
“Don’t know. Look, I got you here. Now you should honor your part of the bargain. Let me go,” the slaver said to Astor.
“Honor? How dare you speak of honor to me, you coward. You are coming with us until we find our friend alive, and if he isn’t, well, the terms are changing,” Astor said to the slaver. “You are going to end up just like your men back there at your camp: rotting in the sun.”
“They are heavily armored, but they shouldn’t be too difficult to take down. They will move slowly, but they have long swords. Try to get in close,” Gogenanth said.
They moved through the waist-high grass to the back side of the entrance to the Black Cave. They crept low and silently until they came upon the entrance and jumped down onto the guards, who were caught unexpectedly. Gogenanth and Astor made quick work of the two: Astor sent a dagger through the neck of one, and Gogenanth slit the throat of the other.
“Anything?” Gogenanth asked of Astor as they each searched a body.
“No, there’s no key on this one,” Astor responded.
“Damn. Not here either,” Gogenanth said as he approached the iron-barred gate. He put his hands on the bars, and pulled and shook, but the door did not budge. He tried to catch his breath after.
“I could try to pick it,” Astor suggested, “but I don’t have the tools, and I’m not so skilled at lock-picking.”
“Me neither,” Gogenanth said. He looked at the slaver. “I don’t suppose you . . .” He was cut short by the sound of a key entering the keyhole from the other side of the lock.
The lock slowly began to turn, and Gogenanth and Astor took defensive positions. They expected an army to come out, slashing and stabbing at them. They had no idea how many would be hidden beneath the ground. The gate slowly opened, and instead of an army, a lean figure covered in ash emerged. A smile grew and white teeth brightly shone in the sunlight. Gogenanth dropped his sword, and disbelief washed across his face as there stood Zaan, who held out a bloody blade.
“I don’t believe it,” Gogenanth said, astonished at what he saw.
Zaan’s eyes were closed tightly, because the sunlight was blinding to him. As soon as he could open them slightly, he noticed Gogenanth standing before him. He walked toward Gogenanth, his smile growing and tears of happiness emerging, and gave Gogenanth a strong embrace.
“You came,” Zaan began to cry as he held Gogenanth. “You came for me.”
“I did. You are safe now, Zaan,” Gogenanth said as he looked up to see others slowly walking out of the gate, all of them with their eyes closed. A few fell to the ground on small patches of grass.
Astor was speechless, the filth and starvation of the miners making him sad and angry. Very angry.
“You are indeed a marvelous sight, Zaan. We were afraid . . .” Gogenanth said to him as he held him out, holding him by his shoulders.
“Do you have water?” Zaan asked, barely able to open his eyes still. Gogenanth held out his canteen, and Zaan drank in large gulps, grunts of ecstasy coming from his throat. Astor gave his canteen to the others, who drank wildly.
Slowly the slaves were able to open their eyes. They looked up at Gogenanth and Astor, but a few of them saw the slaver, panicked, and tried to hide behind the other slaves.
Astor and Gogenanth scowled at the slaver.
“Now, we had a deal. I got you here. You are to return my gold and let me go,” the slaver said angrily.
Gogenanth approached the slaver with his large scimitar in hand.
“Fine, keep the gold, I don’t care, but unbind me. I won’t trade anymore, I swear.”
Gogenanth lifted his big scimitar.
“Gogenanth, don’t . . .” Zaan said.
Gogenanth looked back at Zaan and let the sword fall to his side. “But he deserves it. He made a living kidnapping and enslaving innocent people. He deserves to die,” Gogenanth said.
“Yes, he does, but you don’t need his blood on your hands. I can think of a more appropriate punishment,” Zaan said.
***
Hours later, Zaan, Gogenanth, Astor, and a few of the others were walking away from the Black Cave, northward. They could feel the breeze blowing through their soot-covered hair. The sun still stung their retinas, but it felt warm on their skin. Some of them took their shirts off and lay in the grass or drank cool deposits of clear water. Astor and Gogenanth gave all of their food to the freed slaves. Many of them cried loudly; some of them laughed with tears as they ate the food. Their time in the prison was over. The slaver, however—his time had just begun in the Black Cave. The only key to the gate that imprisoned him was given away to one of the slaves. It was given to the wife of the elderly man who had perished from the red-haired guard’s attack in the cell.
PART IV
The Road
to Asylum
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THE plan was to head north to Barrier Cliff, which Zaan and Gogenanth had originally set out for, months ago. All of the former slaves were offered safe haven there, although none of them decided to take it. They one by one gave praise and unwavering thanks to Zaan. They spoke of him as a legend and savior, and many of them would not even look him in the eyes. He would tell them they were welcome and that he didn’t do anything worthy of being a hero—that he was just in the right place at the right time. The former slaves dismissed this, as most of them had been there to witness his blue majesty as he floated in the air before their freedom. They thanked him and believed he had been sent by some god to save them.
Gogenanth, Astor, and Zaan sat by a fire after the escape. The others had left, returning to old homes or went out to start fresh, new lives.
“So, how long will it take us to get to Barrier Cliff, Gogenanth?” Zaan asked, his thin, now clean face glowing in the firelight.
“It will take around two weeks or so. It is not an easy road to travel, not to mention you must regain your strength. There are mountains to traverse, and with winter fast approaching, we need to prepare.”
Astor then said, “Food first. We
must hunt tomorrow and head to a town and resupply. I am starving. I could eat a horse! If you only had a little more meat on your bones, Zaan . . .” Gogenanth scowled at Astor.
Zaan laughed. “I suppose I would make a poor meal to anything right about now. I’m pretty sure a tiger wouldn’t give me a second look like this,” he said, looking down at his disheveled clothes.
It made Gogenanth sad to look at Zaan; he felt guilty for getting captured that night the king’s guard had slung him up from a tree by his whip. All of the pain and torment they had gone through would never have happened if Gogenanth had only stayed awake that night, or if he had done a better job of covering up their tracks. There were many regrets of things he could have done to prevent their capture. It had been keeping him up at night. The one thing that could help him with this was, he thought, revenge. Who could he kill to make himself sleep at night? The king’s captain of the guard? He was really only doing his job. The king? How had the king even known Zaan was there, and why did he care? There was someone else in the mess—someone who had yet to be revealed. Armoz, for sure, was behind this deception, but he was a god, unkillable. What Gogenanth had really wanted was to slay all of the guards in the Black Cave, and save and free Zaan, but that revenge had been taken from him, as he had only slain one. He told himself that the important thing was that Zaan was safe and sound.
“So the three guards fought, and two of them were killed by the red-haired guard you told me about. That is, before the slaves rioted, killing all of the remaining guards,” Astor said to Zaan. “But you managed to kill the red-haired one with an open throat.” Astor couldn’t help but smile largely at this. “Why did they fight each other, and why weren’t you bound?”
“They were going to chain me to the wall, but I kept my hands behind my back. Maybe they thought I was already tied up, or they just forgot, well . . . because of this.” Zaan held out the small red stone in the fold of his palm; it was little bigger than a fingernail.