by James Fuller
“Let us get this over and done with,” Rift whispered, standing in front of the closed door with his sword in hand.
With a powerful kick, the door burst open and Rift barreled forward at the two unwary warriors. He held his sword low and as he reached his target he arched it high, slashing the first savage from hip to the opposite shoulder, the hard leather armor doing little to stop the blades course of nearly cutting the man in two. Rift kept his momentum going and spun around, leveling his blade for the other warrior’s neck. Once his target was in view again, he stopped in mid-swing, seeing the warrior was already on his knees, gripping two daggers that were buried into his chest.
Rift turned to Pavilion and was about to speak, when a commotion from upstairs drew their attention. Pavilion bolted up the stairs and Rift took the set on the other end, blocking any escape.
He pushed open the trapdoor and dove into a roll, seeing a shadow on the wall, knowing someone was waiting for him. He avoided the sluggish swing of an axe easily and was up on his feet in an instant. Pavilion’s gaze fell on the naked brute in front of him, his female victim curled up off to the side of the hay pile. It was not hard to guess what had been taking place. Pavilion’s nostrils flared angrily as flashes of his past went through his mind. The savage set his axe high and barreled forward in a frenzy of anger at being disturbed.
Pavilion met his charge head on, a hidden fury like no other leading his every step. The savage was about to swing his axe down when Pavilion let loose a dagger that tore into one of the man’s elbows, taking all strength and usability out of the swing and causing the axe to fall harmlessly to the planks. Pavilion’s fist connected with the savage’s jaw and he felt the bone break under the force. The barbarian stumbled backwards and crashed into the wall. Before he could regroup, Pavilion’s hand was around his throat, holding him firmly against the wall.
Pavilion was breathing hard, the veins in his arms puffed out as he held the man. The enemy’s hands wrapped tightly around the arm that held him in place and tried to pull it off, but Pavilion was unrelenting. The assassin stared hard into the brute’s eyes, peering into his very soul, stripping away everything until he could see the fear.
Pavilion glanced over to the girl in the corner who was trying to cover herself with what little was left of her ripped and tattered clothing. She was no more than fourteen, about the same age his daughter had been. He felt the struggle and his attention snapped back to him. With a cruel grin, Pavilion slammed his dagger into the man’s groin and slowly began lifting the dagger up. The savage’s eyes widened with unbearable pain as he kicked and clawed at Pavilion, but it was of no use. Slowly, Pavilion’s blade cut its way up to the warrior’s belly, blood and gore pouring freely from the malicious wound. The savage jerked and convulsed as his dagger reached his rib cage. Death bitterly overcame him and his body went limp. Pavilion released his grip and the warrior’s body slipped to the floor in a gore-dripping heap.
Whimpers snapped him out of his rage. He looked over to the girl on the floor and noticed Rift was standing by her, staring wide-eyed at him.
“Is she okay?” Pavilion asked as he fought back his body’s trembles.
“I do not know yet,” Rift replied, leaning down to the girl who flinched at his touch. “It is okay there, we are the good guys,” Rift whispered gently, grabbing a brown cloak from the wall and covering her.
“What are you two doing up there?” Ursa called up to them.
Before either of them could answer, a barbarian bolted from behind the wall of hay on the far side of the loft. The savage ran for the open window screaming for help as loud as he could in his native tongue. A dagger flashed through the room and hit the barbarian in the shoulder, but it was not a killing blow. Before Pavilion could throw another, the savage had already dove out the opening. He screams were short lived - once he had landed, Ursa released a bolt of energy that cut through his chest, throwing his body to the mud. But the damage was done - the enemy was alerted. Already they could hear the yells of alarm.
“Keeper’s balls!” Rift barked angrily.
“Our welcome is worn out,” Pavilion said, scooping the girl up in his arms.
“Get down from there you fools! We must go!” Ursa cried to them before Rift could say anything else.
“I thought sending you two would ensure this did not happen!” Ursa muttered in annoyance, opening a stall and mounting the brown mare without equipment. He had no time to saddle the beast.
They rode out of the stables as the first barbarians began chopping at the large, barred wooden doors; several others ran around to the side of the stable – all of them breaking free of the stable just before they were surrounded.
They rode east, entering the woods. Just before they reached there, Pavilion stopped and turned his mount around.
“What are you doing, fool?” Rift called to him, slowing his own horse.
Pavilion reached out one arm while the other held the girl and expelled a bolt of power that turned a large section of the fence into smoldering timbers. Another blast of power followed, hitting the dirt near the grazing horses, causing them to stampede in fear. Understanding now, Rift turned his horse around and they rode off after the others, while the enemy scrabbled after the escaping horses.
*****
A splash of cold water in his face woke Zehava abruptly, forcing him to take in a deep breath, which shot pain through his bruised midsection. He lifted his head off the muddy, blood-stained earth and the past few days flooded back to him in a flash of vivid recollection. The defeat on the riverbed; the fearful days of hiding in the jungle. Dahak barely hanging onto life. Then being surrounded and given the option of death or slavery.
Zehava went to push himself up off the ground but a foot caught him in the side of the ribs and his arms buckled from the exploding pain, causing him to crash back into the mud. Another kick to his already cracked ribs followed and flipped him onto his back as he coughed in agony, trying to catch a breath.
“I did not say you could get up!” a rough voice yelled down at him.
Zehava opened his swollen eyes; his vision was blurred as he tried to focus on the large brute that stood above him. He vaguely recognized the man from the battle on the riverbed.
“Where are my friends?” Zehava moaned weakly.
“What did you just say to me?” the brute barked back.
“Where are my friends, you son of a bitch?” Zehava yelled at the man, gaining some of his strength back from the adrenaline now pumping in his veins.
“How did you know my mother so well?” the man laughed, kicking Zehava again. “You wanna see one of your friends? Okay, bring him over, Mitch.”
Zehava turned his head to see Mitch dragging a battered Dahak by his hair and dropping him a short distance away. “Dahak, talk to me.” Zehava muttered, trying to drag himself over to him, but was stopped by a hard boot to his back.
“You said you just wanted to see him,” the brute sneered.
“Ze…hava…” Dahak started to mumble when Mitch slammed his boot down hard on Dahak’s head, forcing it into the thick mud. Dahak’s legs and arms began to thrash as he fought to find breath.
Zehava spun himself over, freeing himself from the heavy foot on his back, off-balancing the brute and causing him to crash to the mud. Zehava crawled over to Dahak as fast as he could. “Let him up, you are killing him, you bastard!” Zehava screamed, but was forced back into the mud as the weight of a body slammed into his back again.
Mitch finally took his foot off Dahak’s head and flipped him over so he could breathe. “There…your boyfriend is fine,” he teased cruelly as Dahak coughed and moaned. “Elsrath even healed him up, so he is as good as new.”
“What do you want from us?” Zehava cried helplessly. “Where are the others?”
“Should we tell him, Conner?” Mitch asked with a stupid grin.
“You will find out soon enough what we want with you,” Conner said. “As for your other friends, yo
u do not need to worry about them; I would be more worried about yourself. Take them to the pole and tie them up.”
Shania slowly rolled off the hard bamboo cot she had awoken on with controlled equilibrium, doing her best to not cause the wooden poles to creak or groan in protest. Once she was free of the cot, her stance became defensive while her eyes adjusted to the dusty, dim light that found its way into the building through the gaps within the roof and wall planks.
The building had a familiar, humid, rotting musk to it and Shania knew at once what the building was, having grown up in one.
A holding barn for slaves. Her heart began to pound hard in her chest as anxiety threatened to take over. The sight of Nicolette on a cot on the other side of the small cell forced her to forget her fears.
Shania moved to where Nicolette was lying. “You need to wake up now, wake up!” Shania whispered lightly, shaking Nicolette, her eyes skimming the other cells for movement. She could not see any, but she could sense the presence of others.
Nicolette groaned at the tightness in her back from the hard bamboo cot and a hand was quick to cover her mouth. Her eyes went wide as fear and adrenaline coursed through her as everything rushed back. Calming slightly, her eyes fixed on Shania, who motioned for her to be silent. Nicolette nodded and regained her feet.
“Where are we?” She whispered, noticing their clothing had been replaced with grey, knee-high cotton garb.
“We are in slave barn, much like the ones in the villages I grew up in,” Shania replied, moving to the iron bars and testing their strength. There was no give in them.
“What was that?” Nicolette asked, coming to stand beside the bars. “I hear something, it sounds like whispering.”
They both listened intently to the murmurs coming from across the dark room, but could not make out any of the words coming from the other cells.
“Who is there?” Nicolette called out.
“Just others like you,” a female voice replied from the cell beside them.
“Who are you?” Nicolette asked, stepping closer to the voice. “What is this place?”
“My name is Luna, and like us and many before us, you are now slaves,” Luna answered with a long, depressed sigh. “If you are lucky, you will be bought fast and by someone who is not a cruel son of a bitch.”
The blood drained from Nicolette’s face and she would have lost her balance had Shania not been there to steady her.
“Ah, I can tell you have had yourself a good life,” Luna commented, seeing Nicolette’s reaction. “Some kind of rich girl…merchant’s daughter perhaps?” She got closer to the bars and looked in. She was short and skinny from lack of proper nourishment. Her features were sharp and had it not been for the dirt and grime staining her face and the tangling in her blonde hair, she might have had a certain beauty to her. “But you…you are a half-breed, you know what this kind of life is about.”
“Who are these people?” Shania asked, ignoring Luna’s well-placed perception.
A contemptuous laugh came from across the hallway followed by the creaking of someone getting off a bamboo cot. “Who? Lance and his group of goons? You cannot be serious? Are you daft or just plain stupid?”
“Shut up, Nina.” Luna called over. “They are new and do not need your patronizing welcome.”
“How impudent of me, Luna, where are my manners?” Nina replied snidely.
“Do you know what they did with our friends?” Nicolette asked as she did her best to steady her nerves.
“You mean the two men that came in with you?” Luna asked.
“Yes.” Nicolette said, weak excitement rising in her voice.
“Their fate will likely be worse than ours,” Luna told them solemnly, her dark almond eyes looking away. “If they are lucky, it with be short-lived.”
“What do you mean…worse?” Shania asked offensively.
“Lance does not just deal with slave girls,” Luna started, but Nina was quick to cut her off.
“We heard your men looked like strong capable bodies - city guards or soldiers of some sort,” Nina interjected. “Their lives and blood will be given to the Pit.”
“What?” Nicolette cried out. “The Pit? What is the Pit?”
“You would do yourself best if you did not worry about them anymore, and started worrying more about yourself now,” Nina commented with a hint of hidden compassion.
Shania moved closer to the bars, her eyes angry and dangerous. “Tell us what the Pit is? What will happen to our friends?”
Luna slumped back down on her cot. “It is where men are forced to fight to the death for the sport and profit of others.”
“If they are lucky, they will die quickly.” Another voice said from the other cell next to Luna’s.
“How will that be lucky for them?” Nicolette asked.
“Here we go again.” Nina muttered.
The other woman ignored Nina, her gaze distant. “My Dalian was a brave man, a good man, he loves…” her voice cracked, “loved me more than anything. They starved and beat him, then tossed him into the Pit. He was no fighter…he did not stand a chance.” She sobbed. “The man… no…monster, tortured my Dalian down there… I can still hear his screams when I close my eyes.”
Nicolette stared blankly, horrified by the woman’s story.
“We need to get out of here. Come on, help me look.” Shania and Nicolette began pulling on each of the iron bars encasing the small room and checking the floorboards for any weakness.
Nina’s mocking laughter drifted over to them once more as she went back to her cot. “You are wasting your time.”
“Do not listen to her - just keep looking, there has to be something.” Shania told her.
“Nina is right you know,” Luna said. “There is no way out of these cells, many have tried. The bars are iron, the walls are thick oak and the floor is hardwood on top of packed clay ground.”
“There has to be a way, there just has to be!” Nicolette exclaimed, anxiety gripping her as the woman’s story played over in her head.
“There is,” Nina called out. “You two are pretty enough, you will likely be sold to some rich prick and as long as you give yourselves to them willingly, your lives will be peachy. If you fight them, they will beat you into a whimpering mess and rape you again and again for the thrill of it.”
“Shut your mouth!” Shania raged across the hall at Nina. “Do not listen to her; it will not happen like that. She knows nothing.”
Nicolette felt her face pale and she stumbled back into her cot. “What… what have I gotten myself into?” She whimpered, but it was barely more than a whisper. She was no warrior, she was not brave and strong, she could not handle this. How could anyone? “This cannot be happening, I cannot do this.”
“You have little choice now,” Nina called back.
“Get up!” Shania barked to her. “You cannot break! We must stay strong; we will get out of this. We just need to stay strong!”
“I…I cannot…” Nicolette sobbed. “I am not like you, Shania… I…I…I am not strong, I am not a warrior. This is not the life I was…”
Shania stopped her frantic search and gripped Nicolette’s shoulders firmly.” You need to be!”
“Lovely, we got ourselves another one of them!” Nina sighed over-dramatically.
“Nina, you really are a cold, heartless bitch - you know that?!” Luna snapped back, rolling her eyes.
“Call me what you want, I do not give false hope when it will only hurt more.”
Shania ignored them. “We will get out of here, we will! I swear it to you!”
“The sooner you give up thought of escape, the easier this life will be,” a new voice said from the cell next to Nina’s.
A figure that Shania could just make out came into view across the hall; she was tall and slender with long, blonde hair. “Do not say that!” Shania growled. “You do not know that, you do not know who we are.”
“But I do know what your friend is going t
hrough. My sister went through the same thing and I do know that escape is impossible.” She paused. “We tried and failed,” the woman said, getting closer to the bars. Shania could see her body was riddled with dark bruises and deep cuts.
“What happened to you?” Shania gasped, going to the bars of her own cell.
“We had the perfect plan… or so we thought. Once we had gotten past the wall, we thought for sure we had made it, but we were wrong,” she paused, the expression she wore was grim. “Their wizard, Elsrath, is too powerful, he can… he can do things… it did not take him long to stop us.”
“Where is your sister?” Shania asked, noting no one was in the cell with her.
“She refused to be a slave.”
“Her sister cut her throat with a piece of glass before they could bind her hands.” Nina finished. “She took the coward’s way out.”
“We have all thought about it, Nina, even you,” Luna replied bitterly.
“Yet, I am still here,” Nina snipped back. “I will not be broken by men!”
Defeat was thick in the air and could almost be tasted as each of the girls fell silent. Shania slumped down beside Nicolette, putting her arm around her sobbing friend. She would not give up, she could not. They were all still alive and that counted for something, yet she could not extinguish the fears that gripped her.
The door to the slave house opened wide and daylight poured through the dark room, pushing the gloom into the corners and in stepped three men.
Shania peered through the bars and glared down the hallway at the men who now stood within. She recognized two of the men - one was Lance, and the other was one of his simple-minded goons, whose name escaped her.
“What is it? What is going on?” Nicolette whispered hoarsely, though she could not bring herself to move to look.
Shania bit her bottom lip in silent rage. So it began already. She went to Nicolette and held her head, forcing her to look at her. “Whatever happens, do not give up. Do not lose hope,” Shania whispered.
Fresh tears welled in Nicolette’s golden-brown eyes. She wanted nothing more than to just disappear and be away from this place, away from all of this, back in Dragon’s Cove.