by E B Rose
Olira sat down on the couch to put her socks and boots on.
“Are you okay?” Jygan asked the slave. Watching how caring he could be, even with a slave, melted Olira’s heart.
The slave’s answer came several seconds delayed, as if he needed extra time to collect himself. “I live to serve, I breathe to please,” he recited bleakly.
“Do you need more water?”
“I live to serve, I breathe to please.”
“Is that a yes, or a no?” Jygan scowled, confused.
“Just give him another cup,” Olira interrupted before the slave repeated the meaningless phrase again. That had been the slave’s response at several times when Olira had asked him a difficult question.
“Well,” Olira said, walking over to the window and looking at the colour of the sky. “There’s no use going back to sleep. We might as well start getting ready.”
“You’re right,” Jygan said. “I’ll prep breakfast.”
“I’m sorry we ruined your sleep, Jygan.”
“Hey, it’s okay. The convoy will leave before sunrise and I can’t let you miss that.”
Olira helped him prepare a quick meal from last night’s leftovers. After breakfast, Jygan packed a week’s worth of rations in a bag for her and he gave her two Blues to buy more on the road. She tried to refuse, but Jygan insisted.
“I’ll pay you back after I sell him,” Olira said stubbornly.
“Sure,” Jygan shrugged. “I’ll walk you over to Arth’s inn.”
Olira gave the bag to slave. She rolled their blankets and tied them on top of the bag. Jygan lent a proper size travel cloak for the slave to wear, which Olira promised to bring back.
She hung her own bag across her shoulder, checking if she packed everything she needed. She’d never been on a long journey before and she wasn’t sure how to pack for it. She didn’t have spare clothes with her; she would have to make do with what was on her back. Or, buy new ones at Arkala once she sold the slave.
She glanced at the purebred, who was waiting by the door. He seemed completely indifferent to what was happening. Even Olira felt disgusted with herself for what she was about to do, but the slave couldn’t care any less.
Master Tholthus was right on one thing: her father would be ashamed of her for doing this.
“You ready?” Jygan asked.
Olira took a deep breath. “Yes. Let’s go.”
Arth’s inn was only half an hour from Jygan’s tannery. The inn actually had a name on the wooden sign over the front door, but the townsfolk always called it Arth’s inn.
The merchant’s convoy was just getting ready to leave. It was one of the biggest Olira had seen. It consisted of three large horse carts, their drivers, several travellers, and half a dozen armed men.
The convoy was going to Coldpost, but Olira could travel with them until Attlecana Grove, then continue on her own to Kilrer. Lord Rhuagh’s men were still patrolling the roads between the Grove and Kilrer, so it should be safe to travel alone. Kilrer was a big city, so Olira shouldn’t have difficulty finding another convoy going to Arkala from there.
It all sounded a little daunting to Olira, who hadn’t travelled further than Kiore before, but she found resolve in thinking if she didn’t do this, she was going to end up in bed with Master Tholthus.
The merchant was a short and sturdy man in his late twenties. His name was Ashin. At first, he wanted to charge Olira seven Greys to travel with them. He was aware how valuable protection was. However, he reduced the price to two Greys after Jygan negotiated with him, saying Olira’s beast could assist in the convoy’s protection as well.
“I doubt it will be necessary,” Jygan assured Olira after Ashin walked away to supervise the last preparations. “But if something happens, just make sure the beast gets a weapon. And stay close to him.”
Olira didn’t tell him how uncomfortable she would feel giving a weapon to the slave, but like he said, it probably wouldn’t be necessary. Her stomach was twisting with anxiety. Watching the convoy getting ready to leave, she thought about changing her mind.
What was she thinking? She couldn’t leave her brothers! She opened her mouth to tell Jygan she was going back home. She would have to find another way to pay Tholthus.
“You’ll be okay,” Jygan said before she could speak. He put his hands on her shoulders. “You can do this.”
Olira took a deep breath. The convoy started moving, the three carts following one another. She wrapped her arms around Jygan. “Thank you for everything.”
“It’s okay. You just travel safe, okay? Stick with the crowded convoys. Remember, you’ll ask for Zamoc in Arkala. He works at the tannery on Lotus Street. Tell him I sent you. He will help you register for the auctions.”
“Okay. Thanks. Jygan, take good care of my brothers, okay?”
“I will, don’t worry.”
Olira slapped her hand on her forehead, as if just remembering a crucial information. “Maybe take Torren to help you out at your tannery until I return.”
“Why?”
“It’s this stupid mushroom…”
“What mushroom?”
Olira started walking after the convoy, as she explained in hurry. “It’s called Widow’s Spirit. Ever since Torren saw it in mother’s diary, he’s been obsessed with it.” When Jygan blinked, confused, Olira explained. “It’s rumoured to blossom once a year, only on the second full moon of the winter, near the lake, in the woods.”
“So…?”
“It dies at first light. Torren has been planning to camp in the woods at night to catch it.”
“Ah. Gotcha.”
“Yeah, just, keep him with you, okay? It’s not safe to hunt for Widow’s Spirit in the woods this year.”
“Okay, I’ll bring the boy to my place, after I drop off Warrior. You just focus on your travel, okay?”
“Right.”
Jygan walked with them until the convoy passed the town’s borders. He continued to give her last minute instructions to stay safe on the roads and to find her way in the cities, and Olira responded with instructions to keep her brothers safe.
After a one last hug, Jygan finally stood behind and watched as Olira followed the convoy to the West. She was still feeling nauseous with fear; she was not prepared for a long journey like this.
She looked behind and saw Jygan waving at her with encouragement. She waved back and felt her anxiety lift off. Her heart was still racing, but it was with excitement now.
She was finally leaving Oxreach behind.
She was going to be rich. She could pay Tholthus’s debt, and leave enough money to Gilann and the boys to last them for years. And then, she could finally be free.
*
Olira took out some dried fruit and nuts from the rations bag. She gave a handful to the slave and took another handful for herself.
The smell of sizzling meat hung in the air, supressing the poor taste of dried fruits in her mouth. Every bite was a disappointment, but she was too proud to let it show on her face.
The convoy had stopped on the side of the road for a lunch break. The three horse carts were arranged in a large semi-circle. All the travellers sat on the opposite side of the circle in groups. Master Ashin, his workers, and mercenaries had built a small campfire in the middle where they cooked a rabbit one of the mercenaries had hunted.
Olira had distanced herself from the other travellers and was sitting slightly away from them with her slave. She was never a friendly type and none of the other travellers seemed to mingle with each other anyway.
There were three individual men, who kept to themselves. There were two men who travelled together, and a couple with a young child. Apart from the young mother and one of Ashin’s employees, Olira was the only other female.
“This is extortion,” Olira mumbled to the slave while she glared at Ashin and the sizzling rabbit. “He already charged us two Greys for travel, and now he’s asking more for the food. One Grey for a plate! You can buy a wh
ole goat with that!”
The slave listened to her with his eyebrows slightly raised. His eyes scanned the floor, as if searching for an answer, but he remained quiet. Olira didn’t really expect to have a conversation with him anyway. She just needed to vent.
“These roads used to be safe,” she grunted silently. “You wouldn’t need people like him to travel. I can’t believe how greedy some people are!” She scoffed another tasteless piece of fruit down and took a gulp of water. “What? What are you looking at?”
The slave averted his eyes, but Olira saw a flash of surprise there before he did. “I live to serve, I breathe to please, Owner,” he replied docilely.
Olira growled in frustration. She wanted to get rid of the slave more than anything, but every now and then, he evoked her curiosity.
He scratched his head again, confirming Olira’s doubts that he didn’t rinse it properly the other night and left soap in his hair. The stubble on his face was growing into an ugly beard. She considered giving him a shave - and a proper bath - before putting him in the auctions.
Your father would be ashamed, Master Tholthus’s voice cawed in Olira’s head. She blushed first, then gritted her teeth.
She wasn’t doing anything to be embarrassed about. Slaves were bought and sold all the time. There was nothing wrong with this.
She noticed the slave was pressing a fist against his neck. It took a couple of seconds to remember what that meant. Her heart skipped a beat. This was how slave’s asked for permission to speak when they wanted to speak.
“Is there something you want to say?”
“Yes, Owner.”
Olira waited for him to continue, but the slave remained quiet, still holding his fist against his neck. Olira rolled her eyes. She wondered how long he would wait like that if she didn’t say anything. “Well, say it!” she said impatiently.
“Umm...” Slave opened and closed his mouth, his eyes flicking from side to side. “I... umm. I am really good.”
Olira blinked. “... okay?”
Slave hummed again. He started sweating. “I... Ehm... I can defeat them all.”
Olira’s eyebrows shot up. She glanced at the armed mercenaries and the rest of the convoy, including three of the travellers who were also armed. “What?” she hissed.
“And... and... You need money,” the slave babbled.
“What?” Olira glanced at the horse carts, loaded with expensive goods. Her face flushed. “Are you insane?”
“I... I know... It’s... It’s a little far...”
“A little far?” she repeated. “It’s too far!”
“No... No, it’s not. It’s only a little further than Arkala.”
“What?”
Slave’s face was beaming with excitement. Olira had never seen him so full of life. “I haven’t fought in a while but I’ve been preparing for this. I know I can win.”
“You’ve been preparing for...” Olira felt dizzy. She couldn’t believe what the slave was suggesting. “What?”
“I can keep practicing on the road and we can get there before twilight...”
“No!” she snapped. One of the other travellers - one with a sword on his back - raised his eyebrows at her. Olira flashed him a polite smile, hoping he hadn’t heard her slave’s plans to massacre them all and hijack the convoy.
She leaned towards the slave; her lips pulled back over her teeth. “I will not hear any of this!”
“But... But I can win,” slave babbled desperately. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. “I’m really strong. And… and you can earn so much more. I know what will happen if you can’t pay your debt.”
Olira’s nostrils flared. “What did you just say?” she asked calmly.
Slave gulped. “You need money. And... and I can earn you a lot of money. Twilight of infinity is the greatest...”
“Stop.” Olira wanted to strike him. If he was a free man, she would. “How dare you suggest something like that to me? And use my debt as a leverage?”
Slave opened his mouth, but Olira shut him up with a fiery stare. His shoulders slumped with despair.
“I’m not a criminal,” Olira continued, lowering her voice. “It may come easy to you, but I cannot murder people!”
“Five minutes, folks!” Master Ashin announced. His workers started packing the camp. Travellers put their plates away and checked their bags. Olira snatched the dried fruit off the slave’s hand and threw them in the bag.
“It’s... it’s not a crime,” slave insisted. His eyes were narrowed and he was scratching his head furiously. He looked dumbfounded. “I don’t understand. That’s what everyone does. That’s what I was raised to do.”
“Stop. Talking.” Olira ordered. “The answer is no. Don’t you ever suggest anything like this again.” She poked her finger at his chest and growled quietly: “And do not ever speak of my debt ever again. Do you understand?”
Colour drained from slave’s face. He looked ten years older. A light faded from his grey eyes as he looked down. In the space of a single heartbeat, his face turned blank and lifeless as it was before.
“I live to serve, I breathe to please, Owner,” he moved his lips.
Olira tied the bag and pushed it against his chest. They stood in silence as they waited for the convoy to get ready. Ashin took his place next to the driver of the front cart. After standing up to confirm nobody was left behind, he signalled his driver to go.
When whips lashed at the backs of the horses, the slave closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and started walking under Olira’s scornful glare.
8
BEAST
Demon’s laughter was more terrifying than his roar.
Beast hadn’t recognized it for what it was at first. He’d shivered as he listened to the sound that reminded him of steel blade scraping against bone. No relief had come when he finally understood the demon inside the silver cage was in a good mood.
“And the saddest part is,” the demon spoke, “you still don’t know!”
Beast breathed quietly. He stood still and silent, reminding himself that the demon can’t hurt him.
Demon… He was standing in front of a demon, and not just any demon…
When he remembered the knife, which plunged into his mind last time he was here, Beast wanted to scream in agony. He wished there was a way to extract that information out of his mind. He wished he never knew…
He was in the presence of one of the imprisoned Demon Lords of Darkhome.
“You have no idea why she refused!” the Demon Lord exclaimed with a note of amusement.
The cold water rippled with the demon’s laughter and tickled his ankles. The water level was higher than he had remembered. Beast pressed his lips together. If he’d just remained quiet, maybe he could wake up sooner.
“Well,” the demon declared. Humour gave its place to graveness. “Now that you’ve tried and failed, you can open my cage.”
Amongst the images that almost shuttered his sanity, Beast had seen what the Demon Lord and its twelve brothers and sisters had done last time they roamed free on Earthome. Beast was no stranger to torture and mutilation, but what he’d witnessed was beyond anything he could describe. He’d witnessed glimpses of the death and destruction. He’d heard the sound of the Demon Lord’s name. He knew what it meant.
Keder was what remained after death.
“No,” Beast uttered. He was surprised to find his voice, and even more surprised to pronounce his refusal.
Silence hung in the air between the slave and the demon. Then, Beast raised his hands over his head and braced himself. His preparedness paid off. When Keder roared, creating miniature waves in the water and slamming them against the walls of the cave, Beast didn’t flinch. He watched the black shadows, thick as fog, swirl furiously behind the silver bars. He didn’t dare to breathe until the water was still again.
“You have no reason to save them!” the demon hissed. “None!”
Beast willed his hands down. He c
an’t hurt me here, he reminded himself. He can’t do anything to me… When he looked down, he saw his fingers tightly wrapped around the necklace.
“I’m not saving them,” Beast gulped. “I’ll try talking to Olira again and I’ll keep trying until...”
“Until you’re on your way to your buddy Kastian’s dungeons.”
Beast’s eyes widened. How did he know? “No,” he said. He attempted to sound confident, but his voice betrayed him. “I can survive Kastian. I did before.”
“Ah, White Tower then. There’s no surviving that.”
Beast’s mouth felt dry. The mention of White Tower sent cold shivers down his spine.
Behind him, a faint light appeared. The familiar smell of salt water caught his attention. He remembered where he first had this smell before. He didn’t want to turn, but couldn’t stop himself.
White Tower rose just behind him. It was only a dozen steps away. Beast craned his neck as his eyes tracked the dirty white bricks reaching the sky. He heard himself crying in terror. Screams replied him from every level of the tower.
When the whitewashed wooden doors creaked ajar, Beast covered his face with his hands, shaking his head violently. He caught himself backing away from the tower -backing right towards the cage! He looked back and found the silver bars only an arm’s reach away.
“No,” he refused. Although his voice was weak, his words carried determination. “I... I won’t. It’s not real.”
A scream rose from the tower behind him and tore his eardrums. It was the most pained, agonized scream he had ever heard, and that meant something. It went on for long minutes, until it shattered. The voice changed, as if it lost a valuable piece. Something was ripped from it. Beast remembered Ratsack’s eyes; how he looked as if he was truly empty inside. He knew the same thing just happened to the owner of that scream. He shuddered.
“Twilight of Infinity,” Beast whispered as if it was a prayer that would protect him. “Twilight of Infinity. I’ll get there. Twilight of Infinity.”
“Hope,” Keder spat. The black fog swirled angrily behind the silver bars. “Is that what’s keeping you from opening this cage right now?”