In Chains

by K. L. Thorne

  Haros made a mental note to attempt to look as submissive and obedient as he was able to tomorrow. He had to cling to the hope that someone would eventually decide he was worth the risk. Haros’s escape plan balanced on the slim chance that he would be purchased by someone and subsequently released into their care.

  A door creaked open somewhere in the cell block, stirring Haros from his thoughts.

  “Ah, is it that time already?” one of the guards said, his voice echoing from his post at the end of the long corridor.

  “I’m afraid so. Dawn will be upon us shortly,” a second guard replied.

  It was shift change-over. Though Haros and Rueben’s cell was somewhere in the middle of the block, it was quiet enough for him to hear most of the conversation.

  “What’s this?”

  There was a shuffling of papers.

  “Oh, one of the King’s Guard captains dropped it off earlier. King Lazuli has put in a request for a viewing tomorrow.”

  Haros’s heart sped up and he sat forward in bed. The faerie king? That wasn’t good news for him. Had someone finally realised their mistake after all?

  “Surely King Lazuli is not coming here personally?” the second guard asked incredulously.

  “Of course not. The viewing isn’t for him. Keep reading.” The faerie laughed and Haros breathed a sigh of relief.

  There was a pause before the second guard let out a long, low whistle.

  “Well, that’s not what I expected. A birthday gift, presumably?”

  “Seems that way. We don’t have many bodies that fit the specification though. I think it’ll be slim pickings.” The first guard snorted and his chair screeched against the stone floor as he got to his feet. “Have fun with arranging that later. It should be a pretty eventful day.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  The door creaked open before shutting with a dull thud. Haros listened to yet more shuffling of papers and lay back down.

  So, the king wasn’t coming here himself, but had requested a specific type of slave as a birthday gift for someone. Haros frowned and wondered what was wrong with a good old-fashioned birthday cake.

  He was curious to know what the specification was. If it was for a friend of Lazuli’s, he may well still be in trouble. Haros could only assume the king’s cronies were just as twisted and anti-demon as the man himself was. What would be a better gift than a demon slave to torture?

  Rueben coughed loudly and startled him. The old man swung his legs out over the edge of his bed as he fought to clear his lungs.

  “You okay there, boss?” Haros asked. A man of Rueben’s age should not be sleeping in an ice-cold stone box in the middle of winter.

  The faerie couldn’t catch his breath to respond but waved his hand dismissively. The demon waited a few long moments, relieved when the old man’s hacking cough seemed to gradually lessen.

  “Old age doesn’t come alone, my lad,” Rueben eventually spluttered.

  “Are you warm enough?” Haros asked. “You can have my blanket if you need it.”

  “Nay, I’ll be alright, but thanks for your concern. I tell you, I’ve shared these walls with many a fellow over the years and you, a demon, have been by far the most considerate.” The old man grunted as he stood. His withered frame was considerably stooped from decades of a poor prison diet and hard metal beds.

  “We’re not as bad as they make us out to be.”

  “Aye, I agree with that. Have I missed anything?” Rueben shuffled to the iron bars, looking up and down the corridor. Haros doubted the faerie could see further than his own nose, but held his tongue.

  “It’s the middle of the night. What are you expecting to have happened, old man?” The demon cocked an eyebrow curiously.

  “Ah, Newbie. The night-time is when all the exciting things happen around here.” Rueben shot him a mostly toothless grin over his shoulder.

  “Well, funny you should say that. I did overhear a little titbit. The guards were talking about a viewing Lazuli has requested for tomorrow.”

  “The king? Here?!” The old faerie gaped at him.

  “No, sounds like he’s purchasing a slave for someone’s birthday,” Haros replied.

  “Curious.” Rueben paused thoughtfully before shrugging. “Nothing for us to worry ourselves over, my lad.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. Being a demon might put me in their sights. I know you’ve spent most of your life behind bars, but surely you know of Lazuli’s hatred for my kind?”

  “Aye, that’s no secret, but rest assured that the only demon slaves royalists are ever interested in are the young, nubile women.” The old man’s face crumpled with distaste.

  “Hey, I may not be female but I’m definitely still young and nubile!” Haros protested.

  “The demon women that pass through here don’t tend to stay long,” Rueben continued, ignoring him. “Some faerie men have a real penchant for them. I never understood it myself.”

  “Lazuli hates demons of any description,” Haros reasoned.

  “Yes, but faerie people – in particular the sort of cowardly elitists the king socialises with – are frightened of male demons. You fellows tend to be much more formidable than your female counterparts. They’d rather just hang men like you outright.”

  “Then why have I ended up here?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, my lad. Presumably because you’re a hefty-looking fellow who would be handy for manual labour.”

  Rueben hurriedly hobbled away from the iron bars as the heavy footfalls of a guard approached.

  “Everything alright here, Rueben?” The soldier came to a stop outside their cell, eyes narrowing with suspicion. He held a pile of parchment in one hand.

  “Yes, sir. Just an old man coughing his lungs up and stretching his stiff hip,” Rueben replied, clearing his throat for effect.

  The guard cast his eyes around the small cell before looking at Haros.

  “You’re new. What is your name, demon?”

  “Harris.”

  The guard flicked through the pages he was holding. He pulled a sheet free and, placing it on the top of the others, paused to read through the notes. His brows knitted together and the faerie glanced across at Haros once more, eyeing him up and down.

  “Do you need to see the tattoo?” the demon asked with an irritable sigh.

  “No, no. You’re just more muscular than I was expecting for someone of your ilk.”

  “My mother made me eat my greens,” Haros quipped, earning himself a deep scowl from the guard.

  “Less of that or you’ll be sleeping on the rack.”

  Haros held up his palms in surrender and tucked them behind the back of his head.

  “Is that everything, sir?” Rueben asked.

  “For now. Don’t get too attached to your smart-ass friend here, Rueben. He won’t be around for long,” the guard sneered and strode away.

  Rueben and Haros listened intently as his footsteps faded before speaking again.

  “You would do well not to antagonise them too much, Harris. I was a chipper young man like yourself once. Trust me when I say you don’t want to learn this lesson the hard way.”

  “What do you think he meant when he said I wouldn’t be here for long?” Haros asked.

  “I’ve not got a clue.” Rueben sat back down on his cot cautiously, wincing as his old bones jarred. “He had a good look at your docket. Is there anything of any interest on there that you know of?”

  “No idea.” It was the truth. Haros knew less than nothing about what was on that particular docket because he knew it didn’t actually refer to him at all. He was curious about the real Harris and what that guard had found so interesting about him.

  “He was probably just trying to scare you.” Rueben picked something from between his teeth.

  “Well it takes more than a few idle threats. I don’t scare easily.” Haros snorted and closed his eyes.

  Despite his brazen attitude, the demon’s stomac
h churned nervously. Every day he stayed here, trapped in this cell, it became more and more likely that the guards would realise their mistake. He needed to escape, and soon.

  ∞∞∞

  Haros awoke a few hours later. The early morning sun was shining through the window, illuminating the cell in rose-coloured haze. When he cracked his eyes open, Rueben was stood at the cell’s bars once more. The old man was gazing curiously down the corridor.

  “You’re a real nosey bastard, aren’t you? Have you been stood there all night?” Haros smirked and rubbed his eyes.

  “Shh. Something is happening. They’re taking prisoners from cells.” The faerie’s eyes flickered to him briefly.

  Haros’s heart thumped and he shot to his feet to join his cellmate at the bars.

  “Why? What are they doing with them?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure, but they’ve got the dockets out. I can’t quite…”

  Both Haros and Rueben fell silent, straining to hear the guards as they approached.

  “Elliot, prisoner four hundred and fifty-seven,” a guard shouted. There was a brief pause before the familiar sound of jangling keys. A cell door screeched as it was opened.

  “Where am I going?” the prisoner, Elliot, asked. He was softly spoken; his voice trembled with fear.

  “There has been a special request and you fit the specified criteria. We’re taking you to a separate cell block for the viewing. You might want to tidy yourself up a bit. If you’re not chosen, we’ll be bringing you right back here,” the guard replied with a spiteful laugh.

  “This is because of the king’s special request,” Haros mumbled.

  He heard the familiar clanging of manacles as Elliot was shackled and marched out into the corridor. The cell door screeched shut once more.

  “Who’s next?” a second guard asked.

  “Prisoner six hundred and six, Harris. He’s in with Rueben at the moment.”

  Rueben shot Haros a wide eyed, concerned look, and they both hurriedly jumped away from the cell door.

  “What the fuck? Why do they want me?” Haros whispered. Adrenaline began coursing through his veins and his heart thundered faster still.

  “That guard wasn’t joking earlier this morning. Best of luck, my lad. I want to know all about it if you’re unfortunate enough to find your way back here.” Rueben looked at him with sympathy in his clouded eyes.

  “Shit. I don’t know which option would be worse.” The demon scrubbed a palm over his mouth.

  “Can I have your blanket if you don’t make it back?” The faerie grinned.

  “You’re welcome to it. Look after yourself, alright, old man?”

  Before they could say any more, two guards appeared at the cell door. One of the guards glanced between Haros and the docket in his hands a few times before his eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “There’s a note saying this one is to be transported independently. No wonder. He’s a big son of a bitch, isn’t he?”

  “We don’t have time to come back for him separately. They’re waiting for these prisoners upstairs and we’re already running behind schedule. We’ll just have to shackle his wrists and his ankles. That should slow him down a bit.” The other guard shrugged.

  Haros glanced behind them where four other men were chained together. They all looked just as confused and concerned as Haros felt, but that was where the similarities ended. He was the only demon amongst them and by far the largest and eldest.

  The guard slotted his key into the lock and swung the door open. He gestured Haros forwards, holding out a set of manacles.

  The demon turned and held his wrists out behind his back. The guard clipped the restraints in place before reaching for a second set to bind the demon’s ankles in a similar fashion.

  Haros carefully exited the cell where he was then chained to the others. The faerie he was tethered to, presumably Elliot, looked up at him with eyes wide. The man shuffled away from Haros warily.

  “That’s it for this block.”

  “Then let’s get going.” The guard shut the cell door and marched on ahead. The slaves trailed solemnly behind. Haros focussed on not falling over his chains.

  To his surprise, they were led in the opposite direction to the exit. The guards filed them into a narrow opening and the group began climbing up a tight spiral stone staircase.

  As they reached the top, they were ushered into a large room. Sunlight streamed in through large glass windows, warming the smooth marble beneath their bare feet.

  They were in another block of cells, yet these were decidedly cushier than any he had ever seen before. The stone walls inside were painted white and adorned with intricate floral patterns that curled floor to ceiling like ivy. There was no bed – just a cushioned bench for the prisoners to sit upon.

  As with any other cell, the front wall was made up of bars, but these looked to be made of gold. They glowed in the sunlight.

  It was painfully clear these cells had never held a prisoner for longer than a few hours. They stood here, empty and disused, until someone who was too snooty to attend the main dungeon decided they wanted a new pet. Haros scowled.

  It made his blood boil that he and the others had been dragged out here from their cages, to be put on show for some aristocrat to poke and prod whilst they decided who they were going to add to their slave collection. Haros thought it deplorable that faeries bought slaves, but this was on another level.

  Before he had been captured, he had wrongly assumed that most of the slaves would be demon. He had expected to be able to blend in with hordes of his own kind and yet the reality was that he was in the minority. He was shocked at just how many of the prisoners were faerie.

  The state of affairs in Awrelwood was worse than he had imagined. The rich and powerful were clearly indifferent to whether they enslaved their own kind. It was no wonder rumours of unrest in the capital were rife.

  “Get the demon in first. The others will be easier to handle.” One of the guards opened a cell door, the hinges smooth and silent.

  Though Haros resented the implication that he was going to be difficult, despite his overall compliant nature thus far, he allowed the faerie guards to unchain him from the group and guide him into the furthest cell.

  They removed his ankle manacles first and then his wrists before hurriedly shutting him inside.

  He watched as they locked the others away one by one. They were strange men, remarkably frail and slender-looking – even for faeries.

  Just how young were they? He didn’t suppose they had enough facial hair for a full beard between them. He ran his hand over his own stubbled chin thoughtfully.

  Once the last of the prisoners was in their cell, the guards hurriedly started setting up. They carried over a plush lounge chair and a wooden desk from the corner, placing it in the middle of the room. They laid the dockets out next to a clean feather quill and a pot of ink.

  Haros paced back and forth nervously inside his cell. He was apprehensive about who he was here to meet. He had planned to stay as far from Lazuli as he could whilst he was in the city. This was far too close for comfort. Would this mystery royalist have any military experience? They would be sure to recognise his tattoo if they did.

  Yet, despite his concern, he felt an inexplicable desperation to be selected. He would have infinitely preferred to be taken home, like a stray animal, by an unsuspecting, anonymous faerie, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. In all likelihood he would be taken from one terrible situation to another, but Haros knew this was his only chance of escape. He didn’t suppose nobles had much in the way of combat training. They would be relatively easy to overpower and escape from. Haros cracked his knuckles against his palms and rolled his shoulders.

  A door opened and an icy breeze blustered in. Haros gazed curiously out into the room as yet another guard appeared. Unlike the two that had escorted them here, this faerie’s eyes glinted maliciously. His mouth was set in a permanent sneer.

  “Captain
Greyleaf, welcome.”

  “Is everything prepared?” the faerie asked, glancing around.

  “Yes, sir. We believe so.”

  “Is this the best we have to offer?” Greyleaf cast his eyes over the cells and curled his lip with distaste. He stroked his neatly trimmed goatee.

  “Yes, sir. I’m afraid the king had very strict specifications. This is all we had at short notice,” the other guard answered.

  The faerie captain met Haros’s gaze and his hand paused mid-stroke. His eyes narrowed and Haros glowered back at him from behind the bars.

  “A demon? My, we are scraping the bottom of the barrel. You should be ashamed of yourselves,” Greyleaf spat.

  Neither of the guards replied, just dipped their heads silently.

  Haros gritted his teeth. This man defined everything he hated most about faeries.

  “No matter,” Greyleaf continued. “The princess is already on her way here. This will have to do, though I don’t imagine she will pick any of these disappointing specimens. What an embarrassment.”

  The princess? Haros’s eyes widened. One of Lazuli’s own daughters was today’s buyer? That did not bode well for him at all. Now Lori had managed to escape, security surrounding the remaining princesses was sure to be sky-high. He wouldn’t last a day before being discovered.

  He knew very little about the princesses, only scant pieces of information he had garnered from Lephas and King Zelrus. Whilst he had gotten along well with Lori, the other Goldwyrm daughters were another matter entirely.

  He wondered if this princess would be similar to Lori. Haros had quickly grown fond of the girl – though admittedly not as fond as his commander.

  He was torn. Though it would be decidedly risky being selected by one of Lazuli’s daughters, he was confident that he would be able to build a reasonable rapport with the girl if she was anything like her sister.

  A sharp rap at the door attracted the guards’ attention.

  “Get out of here, you two. I will call for you when the princess has finished perusing these meagre offerings. I wouldn’t imagine it will take long,” Greyleaf scoffed.

  The other guards hastily scurried away.

  Haros held his breath, craning to watch the bearded faerie stride away. The door was out of his line of sight, but another blast of icy air swept through the room as it was opened.