by T. Norman
I need to get her attention, let her know that she’s not alone. Carn thought as fast as he could, trying to figure out how to signal Julia. As his group started climbing up the back of a wagon, Carn saw his chance and took it.
Carn lifted his foot to reach up to the first step on the wagon, missing it by inches. He collapsed to the ground with a shout, bringing the man in front of him and the three behind him to the ground as well.
They all shouted at the sudden collapse and the guards quickly converged on the men, checking for an attempted escape. Carn smiled as he saw most of the others in chains looking toward them at the sudden noise, along with Julia. He quickly rose to his feet and tried to brush the dust from his face, only to be halted by his chained hands. The guards were helping the other individuals up as he made eye contact with Julia.
He could see the relief in her eyes, followed by despair. He knew that she worried about Rysh and Cal. Carn gave her a smile and nodded toward Two Foot, who was already seated on the wagon. Julia looked up toward the wagon, searching for his face. She nodded in recognition.
Carn was pulled forward as the guards quickly ushered them on the wagon. He barely had time to send Julia one last message before he was carted away. Don’t worry, he mouthed, hoping she understood.
Once the last five men were seated in the wagon, the guards locked their chains down to a bar in the center and they began their journey.
Their trip started in silence, the passengers in the back of the wagon staring either at the wood decking or off into the distance. Dust rose from the convoy of wagons.
He kept checking on Two Foot, who it seemed had passed out again. A burly looking man sitting to his left wriggled in his chains.
“I hate these bloody things,” he growled quietly. The guards driving the wagon didn’t seem to notice the man’s complaint.
The man chained to Carn’s right gave his retort. “The more you fight it, the worse it is.” Carn noticed the man had blistered hands, but not those of a warrior. He guessed that he was a farmer.
The burly man gave the farmer a scowl. “I’m going to complain as much as I want.” He clenched his fists in fury. “We’re bloody slaves!”
The guard at the front of the wagon turned at the sound of the burly man’s shout. “Shut up back there!” he ordered before turning back around.
The farmer shook his head, continuing to speak in a whisper. “You don’t think they’re going to kill us?” Even in a whisper, his voice shook with fear.
The burly man laughed. “No doubt about it, we’re slaves. Look how they have us separated already.” Women were separated, there was a group of children tied together, and all the men Carn saw chained together looked like fighters.
“Do you know where we are?” the farmer asked.
The burly man shrugged. “This is my first time travelling through the Thoros Sea. For all I know, we could still be on the mainland. “
“We’re heading toward Laytos. The fighting pits, probably.” Two Foot raised his head, speaking for the first time.
The farmer gave him a puzzled look, “How do you know that?”
Two Foot turned to look at the farmer. “Traveled through these waters many times. Biggest slave trade in the land, all based out of Laytos.”
The men sat in silence, letting Two Foot’s words sink in. The large city came into view as the sun began to set. Red brick walls surrounded the city, a number of towers rising from the center. The wagons came through the gate at a place where the houses were elegantly made, with exotic plants hanging from balconies.
The roads were clean leading from the housing district into the trading district. The shops were large and had a variety of items on display. All throughout the city, guards and slaves were everywhere, the latter marked by the chains around their necks.
The caravan entered the town square, where dozens of guards stood surrounding a large wooden stage. A large coliseum provided the backdrop. A crowd was gathering to take in the new stock of slaves for sale.
They’re going to auction us off. The harsh reality of their situation made Carn chuckle. He never thought that he, a captain in the Royal Army, would lose his position and weeks later be sold into slavery.
The tattooed man climbed off the first wagon, escorting the men onto the stage, along with a handful of guards. A fat, bald man in orange and gold silk stood on top of the stage, calling out to the crowd.
“Welcome! I know you have all been waiting anxiously for this day, and we have divided our goods into categories, as per your request.” He gestured toward the first group of men being brought up onto the stage. “Let’s start the bidding at one bronze!”
Carn was appalled at how the crowd bid on the other slaves, looking at them as goods for sale rather than enslaved people. After a couple wagons had been emptied, he noticed one man who continued to bid on those that weren’t getting sold, often buying each for two or three bronzes. He was a tall man, sitting under a shaded pavilion. He didn’t actually do any purchasing, but one of his guards, most likely a captain, stood in front of him, getting a wave from his master when he wanted to bid.
Others, after bidding on one or two slaves, would take their new goods and leave. Still others simply watched.
“I think it’s time we changed it up. Bring out the women!” the fat man called. The crowd roared with excitement as a wagon of women was brought forward. An older woman with a very large chest was first to be auctioned off. Her clothes were torn and ragged, and dirt covered her face. “Let’s start the bidding at one silver.” After a few minutes of bidding, the women sold for two gold’s.
Carn looked on in fear as the second wagon of women was being unloaded, for Julia was among the slaves. He ignored the sales going on, focusing instead on Julia and the terror in her eyes.
“Look what we have here, a pretty young lass.” The bald man scanned the crowd, smiling at the hunger in their eyes. “We start the bidding at five gold’s.” The crowd went silent in shock. It was the highest starting price yet.
Carn looked to the crowd, trying to gauge their reactions. An old woman stood under the tent next to the tall, bronze-skinned man who had purchased many slaves. She was whispering something in his ear. He made a gesture toward his captain, who in turn called out, “Ten gold’s.”
All eyes turned first to the man in the tent, then to Julia, standing shocked on the stage. “Looks like Vas really wants this one,” the auctioneer said, smiling at the man under the tent. “Hope she’s worth it. Bring up the next girl!” The bidding continued as usual. Carn watched Julia being led to the man called Vas, who ignored her as she walked up, instead letting the older woman lead her away.
The wagon in front of Carn moved forward as they continued selling the men. Before he knew it, he was being led off the wagon.
The burly man from his wagon was the first to be auctioned off. Vas paid one silver for him, outbidding two others. Two Foot was next, barely able to walk up the stage.
“This one looks a little pathetic; we’ll start at one bronze.” Silence rang through the crowd. Two Foot was barely standing and Carn assumed many saw him as a poor investment.
Again, Vas’s captain raised his hand, winning the bid of one bronze for Two Foot. He was marched off to where all the male slaves Vas had purchased were being held.
The farmer was next in line. “This one looks like a hard worker; let’s see if we can get a little action!” The crowds got excited about a slave already used to physical labor. “We start at three bronze!”
“Three!” a man called from the crowd.
“One silver!” Carn was surprised to hear a woman’s voice calling from the crowd.
“One and three,” Vas’s captain called out.
“Two silver,” the woman called out again. The large man looked around, seeing no more bids.
“Sold for two silver to the lovely Lady Dekhart,” he said with a slight bow toward a tall woman standing in the middle of the crowd. He turned to see Carn walkin
g up on the stage, and his eyes lit up in excitement. “Now this is a soldier if I’ve ever seen one!” He licked his lips in anticipation. “Two silvers will start us off.”
Lady Dekhart called out immediately, “Two.”
“Three,” called Vas’s captain.
“Four” the lady called again.
Carn looked to the captain, who called out, “a gold and a silver.”
Lady Dekhart moved closer toward the stage, “one gold and three silvers.” She met no resistance from the crowd as she came closer to examine Carn.
“Two gold’s,” called the captain without hesitation.
The lady shot an angry glance at Vas, who sat under his tent smiling. “Three gold’s.”
Carn was amazed as the two continued to bid. The lady seemed less threatening than Vas, which in a way made him more suspicious of her. Regardless, he needed to go to Vas so he could find Julia.
Lady Dekhart smiled as the captain hesitated, looking back to Vas with a questioning glance. Vas stood for the first time, stepping out from under his pavilion. Carn noticed the tattoos that covered his arms, legs, and up his neck. “Ten gold’s,” he spoke to Lady Dekhart, shaking his head at the woman.
She turned to look up at Carn on the stage, gave him a shrug, and walked back to her associates.
Carn was ushered off the stage to join Vas’s other slaves. They turned to look at him, in awe of his sale price. The burly man stepped up to block his way. “Looks like he saw something in you,” he said as he reached out a chained hand to greet Carn. “The name’s Grenn Holiss.”
Carn shook his hand. “Carn Sharpe.” He heard a commotion coming from the wagons, turning to see a man with a sword in his chained hands. A dozen guards surrounded the man, hesitating at the sight of a dead body at his feet.
Carn moved as close as he could, staring as the guards began to close in on Rysh.
“Vas!” Carn called out quickly. A few guards moved to silence Carn, canes in hand, but Vas stood and waved them off. “You want me to fight, I need him.” Carn pointed at Rysh, still fending off the guards.
Vas turned to his captain, giving him a nod. The captain crossed the distance of the square, stepping between the guards and Rysh. In a fluid movement, he leapt forward, dodging Rysh’s swing and disarming him. He hit Rysh in the temple with the pommel of his sword, sending him limp to the ground.
“No need to pay for my services,” Vas called to the auctioneer. “I will take this one as credit.” A group of guards hauled Rysh to his feet, bringing him to the corral of slaves.
Vas walked down to examine his new slaves. He gestured for Carn to meet him at the front of the corral. “If you speak to me again,” he said simply, “I will cut out your tongue.” He turned and walked away. A group of guards rounded up the slaves, chaining them together and ushering them toward the large coliseum behind the town square. Carn looked up at the large structure, a feeling of death in the pit of his stomach.
39
During the night, Zaren slowly climbed down the rock wall to get a better view of Bravestone. He chose to make the descent alone, trusting only himself on the slopes, which had turned slippery due to the heavy rainfall of the past few days.
As the sun rose, Zaren saw a no movement in the fort. A few guards patrolled the walls, but they seemed lulled into boredom by the monotony of their task. While the sun was still rising, Zaren climbed back up the hillside to the camp where the rest of the soldiers were waiting.
He found Dirk and Captain Fallan sparring with tree branches. The soldiers’ moods were low, as Zaren had prohibited building fires due to their proximity to the fort and the necessity of a surprise attack.
“Zaren, about time you came back.” Dirk threw his stick aside, bored of the drills. “What did you find?”
The three men sat around the drawing Zaren had made of the fort and the surrounding land. He depicted each gate, the height of the walls, the movements of the guard’s patrols, every detail he could remember. Once he finished, Zaren sat back, staring at the drawing.
“Well, this doesn’t look as easy as I thought it would be,” Captain Fallan chimed in. He could sense the frustration in the other men, attempting to lighten the mood.
Dirk shook his head. “Can we send a small force over the walls to open the gate?” He wasn’t only a fighter, but a thinker, as well, which made Zaren hopeful of his potential as king.
“The top walls are four feet thick and smooth as ice, there’s nothing for our grapples to brace onto.” Zaren saw the disappointed look on Dirk’s face.
“We don’t have the proper siege equipment to break down the gate,” Gabe advised, “and we don’t have the resources to make climbing ladders, either.”
Zaren nodded, a scowl on his face. “I hate to give them credit, but when they made Bravestone, they knew what they were doing.”
The valley road leading up to the fort was narrow, allowing only a small army to attack at once. The walls were thirty feet high and eight feet thick. There were only two entrances to the fort, one on the eastern wall and one on the western.
Dirk’s eyes lit up. “We’re looking at it wrong. We need to look at this from their perspective. What would we do if we were in there being attacked?” He looked to Zaren, expecting an answer.
Zaren leaned in closer to examine the drawing, scratching his chin. “I’m assuming that they have maybe 200 men in the fort. I would first organize a regular watch along the wall, posting guards every twenty feet on three-hour shifts. I would reinforce the gate with any wagons or other large objects that could prevent it from being rammed open.” He thought longer, picturing the whole battle in his mind. “I would send three riders out to Dusseldorf asking for reinforcements.”
Dirk’s eyes flew from the map to look at Zaren. “Say that again.”
“I would send three riders to Dusseldorf?”
Dirk smiled broadly and nodded excitedly. “That’s our way in! There are only two gates and there’s no way to scale the walls. That will be our one opportunity to get in, when the gates are opened.”
Zaren gave the boy a smile. “There’s hope for you yet.”
Gabe scrunched his face in thought, looking at the map. “I’m afraid you forgot about one thing. The only way to the eastern gate is through the fort.”
Zaren let out a sigh. “There’s another way.” He knew Dirk was going to hate his plan, but he had to convince him it was the only option. “The face of the mountain is manageable, but we’d have to traverse it at night.”
“That’s impossible. The face is too steep, and with this rainfall, it’s pure mud.” Dirk looked at Zaren, confused.
“You’re right, that’s why I will have to take it slow and travel only by night.”
Dirk shot a scowl at Zaren. “You mean we, correct?”
Zaren closed his eyes for a second, composing his thoughts. “No, just me.” Dirk opened his mouth to rebuke the captain but Zaren held up his hand, silencing the young prince. “The mountain is steep and dangerous, as you already pointed out. There’s no way to make the whole trip in one night, therefore whoever goes is going to have to sit in the open all day long. Any more than one person would risk being exposed to the enemy.”
Zaren saw the frustration in Dirk’s eyes. He hated being told what he could and couldn’t do, and he hated feeling helpless. “So you expect to take on the whole fort filled with a couple hundred men all by yourself?”
Zaren gave a slight smile. “No, I only need to kill those that get in my way.” He bent down, gesturing at the map again, “Captain, in two days at dawn, lead the siege. If I’m not in position by then, we’ve already lost our opportunity for surprise.”
Captain Fallan nodded, seeing the wisdom in Zaren’s plan. “I’ll send a scout back to Daleon and let King Stowen know to begin the march. They should arrive in four days, after we have the fort.”
Zaren gave him a nod. “Do it.” He turned back to Dirk, seeing disapproval in his eyes.
“I
can’t let you go alone, it’s a suicide mission!” he almost yelled, not able to hold back his emotion.
“That’s exactly why I have to go alone. You’re the crown prince; if you die, there’s no one to take your place. The fate of this land depends on you.” He put a hand on Dirk’s shoulder, trying to calm the prince. “My life is expendable, yours is not.”
Dirk brushed his hand off, turning away. “My father sent me with you to learn from you and train with you, not to watch you volunteer to be sent to your death.”
“Just think of this as another lesson,” Zaren said. “There are times in war where you might have to make a difficult sacrifice, one that you desperately want to avoid. For the greater good, you need to have the strength to make those calls when no one else will.”
The young prince turned to face the captain of the Royal Guard, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Ever since Petrik died, you’ve been the only friend I’ve had, the only person I knew I could trust.”
Zaren felt a stab of guilt as he remembered the death of his prince’s friend. I did what I had to do, he reminded himself.
“Thank you Zaren, for everything.” Dirk gave him a nod, fighting back tears.
Zaren realized that even though Dirk was the prince, he was still only a boy. He was a boy too young to rule a nation, too young to face the death of another friend. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.” He gave him a smile, knowing this might be the last time he looked into the boy’s innocent face.
As night gathered, Zaren removed his normal armor, instead putting on a thin layer of leather with a brown-and-gray cloak that he covered in dirt and mud. He planned on using the cloak to cover his body as he sat still during the day in an attempt to blend in with the surface of the mountain.
