*****
Krista grew conscious of a rough jolting motion and painfully opened her eyes to see the cause of the strange jerky movement. She was in a farmer’s cart surrounded by half a dozen other young girls. She closed her eyes again, knowing without further explanation the conditions of her new reality.
She was a slave once more, except this time with a different intended purpose. For a moment, she wished in vain that the boards of the cart would melt and the ground below would swallow her up and that her life would be over.
Sighing, she accepted the fact that she wouldn’t be that lucky to die so easily. Slowly she got to her knees and leaned back against the side of the swaying cart. Looking around, she could see that all the eyes of the other occupants of the cart were on her. She recognized some of them; the milk man’s daughter, a buxom blond who looked like she was about to die of fright, a city councilman’s daughter, as well as two other prominent citizens’ daughters and two other girls of lesser birth that she didn’t recognize.
The councilman’s daughter, even though afraid of what her fate might be, could not hold back from the snobbishness that seemed to go with members of her social status.
“We thought you were dead. I’m glad to see that you’re not.”
Gesturing to the slavers she said, “Now they can make sport of you and leave us for ransom.”
Krista smiled grimly, “Elise, you’ll soon find out for yourself that there will be no ransom, other than that which your future owner pays for you. And that will only be for the privilege of doing whatever he wishes with you. Welcome to the life of being a slave, Elise.”
Krista regretted the words as soon as she had said them. She had only meant to take Elise’s cocky, high and mighty attitude down a few notches, but in doing so she saw that she had heightened the fear in the eyes of the other girls, which she hadn’t meant to do. The facts were the facts though and they would all find out the reality soon enough.
Later that day the slavers stopped to make camp in an abandoned village. The girls were herded into an old shack and made to stand against a wall stretched out in a line. Krista was the farthest one from the door of the shack. Standing at the door to block any attempt at escape stood a wiry, evil looking slaver with crooked dirty teeth. He did nothing but grin and wink at the girls suggestively.
Fearful whispers began to rise among the girls. Abruptly, their whispers were interrupted by the opening of the door. Surprisingly, a woman stepped through the door and the brief moment of hope that rose up within Krista swiftly turned cold and died painfully.
By her clothes and the manner in which the woman displayed herself, Krista recognized the woman for what she was. She was the madam of a whore house or something close to it. She had come to buy new product for her customers.
Krista turned her eyes away and stared straight ahead, seeing her fate sealed. The woman came closer to inspect the scared girls.
“My, what a pretty bunch of girls we have here and unspoiled yet at that! You’ll bring a good price. Congratulations gentlemen on restraining your beastly natures!” She gave a raucous laugh, which was echoed by the men who had come in with her.
“We know how you like them, Esmerelda!”
“Excuse me?” Elise said, speaking up.
The bunch by the door turned back to the girls, amused at the query. Elise spoke again, pointing to the two noblemen’s daughters, who appeared to want no part of what she was about to say.
“Excuse me Madame, but there’s been a mistake! I and these two girls here are daughters of wealthy men. We would be worth far more to you, if you ransomed us back to our families, than being sold as slaves. Also, ransoming us back would still leave you with four girls to do with as you pleased.”
The madam studied Elise for a moment with an amused, sly look on her face. Turning back to the headman she held out a heavy purse, which she dropped into his hand.
“I’ll take them all Ran except for that one,” she indicated Elise. “She can keep your men company, while you plan to ransom her back to her dead family.”
The men all laughed and one reached forward to grab Elise and drag her out the door, as she loudly protested against such treatment.
“Have them ready to go in the morning. I want to get back to Tantarkus as soon as possible,” Esmerelda declared, making her way out of the shack.
The door slammed shut, but it didn’t shut out Elise’s screams or the raucous jeers and laughter taking place outside the door in the camp beyond.
The girls started crying and moaning upon hearing the despicable acts taking place outside, as each of them imagined themselves in Elise’s place. Krista sunk down with her back to the wall. The milkman’s daughter beside her was trying to hold back sobs of fear, but failed miserably as the sounds from outside penetrated through the thin walls of the shack in which they were locked up. Krista reached over and pulled the girl close to her and held her.
The girl collapsed against her chest and sobbed openly in Krista’s arms. At some point, after the screams had finally stopped and the noise had died down, the girls mercifully fell asleep.
They all had a fearful awakening just a few hours later when the door crashed open and they were dragged out into the early morning light and herded back onto the cart.
Krista briefly glanced over at last night’s fire pit, only to look away quickly as tears came to her eyes at what she had seen. She hadn’t cried once last night, but the sight of Elise’s mangled and lifeless body lying discarded on the ground like mere trash was too much. Elise had always treated her meanly, but no one deserved what had happened to her. Thankfully the others didn’t see her or maybe they had just been too afraid to look.
The oxcart carrying them broke off from the main group and headed out with a smaller escort towards the Attorgron capitol buried deep within the forest.
They entered the forest two days later. Krista had never seen such a forest as this. It made her own beloved forest look puny and incomparable to the unmatched majesty of the forest that pressed in all around her now. How she would have loved to find its hidden secrets and pathways instead of being chained to the side of this cart bound for a destiny too hideous to contemplate!
Five days later, after passing through small villages almost swallowed up by the forest that encroached around them, they reached a larger city called Santarus. It was the main economic hub of the Attorgron Empire. The capitol of the Attorgron Empire was another three days journey beyond it through the forest. For the first time in days, the girls were herded out of the oxcart and into an establishment that must, in these parts, qualify as an inn. Again they were lined up forcefully against a wall.
Esmerelda came into the room to stand before them. She regarded each of them directly with a hateful glare. It was hard to look at her and not be disgusted as the oppressive humidity of the day caused her greasy looking facepaint to run down her face.
“Alright girls, listen up. I have an extremely influential and wealthy client in this city who from time to time purchases fine products such as yourselves to use as he pleases. You would do well to impress him as he pays me very well. If none of you catch his fancy, it will go badly for all of you! Do I make myself clear?”
The girls, for the most part resigned to their fate, nodded their heads, hoping at least for an easier outcome than Elise’s had been, but Krista remained still. She would play no games of appeasement to the whore mistress who controlled their fate, even if it made things worse for her. Esmerelda, seemingly satisfied with what she saw, retired to a chair in the room to wait for the wealthy buyer to appear. She didn’t have to wait long.
The door opened and a dangerous looking man stepped into the room and surveyed the room’s occupants. Seeming satisfied that all was as it should be, he stepped aside and held the door open for another individual. The man beyond the door stepped into the room. He was an older man, but he still had a look of strength to him, despite his evident age. He wa
s richly dressed and moved with a commanding presence about him that spoke of an extensive experience of leadership, perhaps even some time in the military.
Esmerelda rose to greet him, but he cut her off with a terse statement, “These are the girls from which you expect me to make a selection for my new consort?”
Esmerelda, looking somewhat shaken, nodded timidly.
“Very well, then.”
He started at the beginning of the line looking intently at each girl and steadily progressing down the line, with disapproval written all over his face at what he saw. Each girl fairly cowered under his intense scrutiny, until at last he came to the end of the line and Krista.
Krista, however, did not look at him, but stared straight ahead and showed no sign of cowering under his study. The man reached out and grasped Krista’s chin with two fingers and turned her head to meet his eyes. Forced to stare at him, she hoped that her gaze remained enigmatic and didn’t betray the loathing that she felt for him and all the members of his kind.
He released her chin, turned towards his man and said, “I’ll take this one. Pay her what she’s due.” Her new master indicated Esmerelda.
Krista, somewhat shocked, watched as her new master’s hired man dropped several pouches into Esmerelda’s greedy fingers. Then the hired man came over to her and grasped her left arm tightly, almost to the point of leaving bruises, and half pulled her behind him as he followed his master out the door.
Krista got one fleeting look at the other girls as she was pulled from the room. It was likely to be the last time she saw any of them again.
There was a carriage pulled up outside the inn into which she was thrust. She landed on the seat behind the driver, which put her opposite of her new owner. She struggled to regain her composure, as the man was watching her very closely, but she couldn’t control the rapid rising and falling of her chest, which betrayed whatever calm she could portray on her face. She felt so out of balance.
The carriage ride didn’t last nearly long enough. When the carriage had come to a complete stop, her new master broke his intense and inquisitive study of her and got down out of the carriage. Her charade of being in control completely shattered at the knowledge that they had arrived at her new master’s house. She sat in the carriage unsure of what to do next. Her master held out his hand in a gesture one would have expected to see a gentleman offer to a high born lady. She looked at the outstretched hand and her mind was suddenly made up as to what her course of action would be. She lunged for the carriage door on the opposite side, flung it open and bounded out towards the city lights flickering beyond. Her blossoming moment of freedom wilted within three steps, as a hand grasped her forearm with the same bruising grip once again. But of course she had been a fool to forget the warrior companion of her master.
She would now most likely be severely beaten for her attempt to escape, and then something worse would happen again and again.
The man pulled her around to the other side of the carriage toward where her new master still stood. She kept her head lowered, not wanting to show them the tears of frustration that were welling up in her eyes. Once again she felt her master’s cool hand touch her chin and direct the movement of her head upward. Expecting to see anger reflected in his eyes, she was surprised instead to see a look of understanding.
“Freedom can often prove elusive to many of us in life, but one can find peace if they surrender to the inevitable. Even the life of a slave can be bearable, if one surrenders enough.”
He released her jaw and turned towards the mansion that must be his home. It sat at the end of a street, which gave it more privacy from the other mansions that lined the street. Its architecture rose impressively up before her. Still, it struck a balance of not being overly pretentious despite its grandeur. Everything seemed extremely well maintained and in order, like the man himself.
The main doors of the mansion opened with a soft hiss of sound at her master’s approach and he was greeted at once by members of the household staff. He lifted a deferential hand to acknowledge their welcome and continued on into the mansion. Krista followed, no longer protesting against the unshakable grip on her arm.
She was fairly bedazzled by what she saw around her as she set foot within the mansion. The floors were made of intricately inlaid marble, which were enclosed by alabaster white walls. Vivid splashes of colorful silk and artwork adorned the walls and hung from the ceiling. In the main vestibule, a massive chandelier hung overhead and its candle light sparkled brilliantly off thousands of pieces of glass. She was speechless as she was led up a mahogany stained staircase to the second floor of the mansion. They stopped outside a door which opened from within. Upon entering Krista saw that it was as ornately decorated as the rest of the house only with more of a feminine touch to it. It was a bedroom. There were several women in attendance. Their dress uniforms denoting them as servants or slaves. Alarm grew within Krista and she started to resist further movement into the room. Her master turned to face her as his back faced a large fireplace.
He confirmed her fears, when he said somewhat speculatively, “Let’s begin. Take those rags off her and let’s see what we have to work with.”
At his words, Krista twisted against the grip on her arm. Using the motion of her twist, she swung into him and slammed her clenched up left fist directly into his groin. He gave a slight grunt of discomfort, but that was it, which shocked her.
That always worked! He should have been doubled over in pain, but he wasn’t!
He quickly grabbed her fist before she could use it again and tightened his hold on her. Having no other recourse she lunged her head forward and sank her teeth into the strong forearm holding her right arm. Suddenly she felt intense pressure on the back of her neck in certain specific spots. Darkness began closing in fast and she half screamed and released her bite, trying to escape the pressure squeezing the back of her neck. The grip stayed on her neck and she felt herself going limp, even as she desperately fought against it.
Krista’s body slumped unconscious against her captor, who picked her up gently instead of allowing her to fall to the floor. He carried her body to a daybed and laid her down.
The man who had bought Krista came to stand next to his purchase.
“She has spirit.”
“Perhaps too much,” echoed his guardian reservedly.
“Nonsense Rugar! One needs all the spirit one can muster to make a go of it in this life. I only hope for her sake and ours that she has enough spirit for what will be required of her.”
“Sir!” one of the servant girls exclaimed.
“Yes, what is it?”
The servant girls had taken off Krista’s clothes and she lay there, bare as the day she had been born. The servant girl who had spoken had been behind Krista as they had taken off her clothes. She reached forward and gently pushed Krista over onto her stomach. The other servant women collectively sucked in their breaths at the sight before them. From the top of Krista’s shoulders down to the cheeks of her bottom was a latticework of thin white scars interlacing back and forth across her back that stood out whiter than the already white caste of her skin. The group stared in collective shock for a moment, except for Rugar.
“Young firan cane sprout switches did this. I’ve seen it before. She must have been a field slave at some point, which means she’s a runaway. No slave ever leaves the cane fields for any other reason, other than death.”
On the back of Krista’s left shoulder blade was forever blazed the evidence of her status as a slave. The brand was crude and roughly done. It was in the shape of a nine, but had been branded slightly sideways instead of straight up and down. The edges of the brand were deep and disrupted the smooth skin of Krista’s back.
“I was right then. She does have spirit to her. What can you do with this Rugar?” Krista’s master asked, indicating the crude brand.
Rugar studied it for a moment and then replied confidently, “I can mask
it sufficiently, but these other scars I can do nothing with.”
“You won’t need to, they’ll accentuate the image of her I want people to see.”
Turning to the servants Krista’s master ordered, “Clean her up and then assist Rugar in his work.”
They nodded their heads in unison and he left the room.
A Warrior's Redemption Page 29
