Spirit of Magik (The Dothranan Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Cluff

  Eliel sat there shaking, tears rolling from her eyes.

  “You broke my fucking nose, whore!!!” The girl yelled from the ground holding her nose. It sounded funny the way she said it. Her voice had a squeaky quality to it now. Eliel started laughing hysterically.

  “Are you all right, ma'am?” The one that was still there asked.

  “I'm a lot better now, thank you man,” Eliel said still laughing nervously. Blood was trickling down the side of her nose.

  The other Legionnaire returned. “They were quick,” he said to his comrade. “What happened here, woman?” He asked her.

  “Her friends grabbed me, and she was cutting my face up. But you saved me,” Eliel snorted in breaths quickly.

  The other man helped the blonde girl up. “What happened to you?”

  “She hit me in the nose,” the small girl with the broken nose squeaked. Eliel giggled again, but her breathing was finally beginning to return to normal.

  The man with the light shined it on each of them. He pulled a clean kerchief out of the pouch on his backside and pressed it onto Eliel's forehead to soak up the blood and look at it closer. “You can't put a design on someone's forehead defensively.”

  “Go woman. You're done here,” he said, nodding to her.

  “Thank you sir,” Eliel stood up shakily. The man assisted her until she steadied herself.

  “Get your hands off of me!” The blonde girl yelled funnily. Eliel could see in the dim light the Legionnaire that held her had sheathed his steel. He had one arm firmly around her small waist while the other groped her breast.

  “Goodnight ma'am,” The man near her said firmly and shifted his stance. His long blade was pointed right at Eliel's belly now.

  Eliel was stunned for only an instant; then she turned and ran out of the alley. She heard cloth rip behind her and a muffled scream.

  She ran faster than she ever had in her life. By all the spirits, she was afraid. She hated that girl, but she wouldn't have wished rape on her. She just hoped she had been with a man before; at least then it would be easier for her.

  It wasn't until she stopped to catch her breath that she remembered Nigel was still back there somewhere.

  Sunday May 12th 1624th year of the First Great City

  Slave Market

  Thorel was surprised when he was leaving the Manor last night to find a carriage waiting for him. The driver hailed him and told him he was there to take him wherever he wished to go. When he asked the driver why, and he said, “I don't know why, the stable master told me to sir.”

  He was unable to find Nigel and Eliel. He had gone to several taverns in West Vallad, but no one he'd spoken to had seen them. He would have gone to Nigel's parents' house, but he didn't know the name of the bakery. He needed to ask Nigel or Eliel when he saw them again. Vallad was too big to wander aimlessly in.

  When he returned to the Manor, he had a few glasses of wine with some other holders. They were in the common room on the thirteenth floor. While the other holders were kind and respectful people, he didn't feel he could confide in them. He did feel a bit better after enjoying their company, but he wouldn't get drunk with strangers.

  He returned to his room, and he worked on practicing the shield Ari had taught him. It tired him, and he spent what was left of the night reading one of his textbooks before dozing off.

  This morning he'd attended breakfast with Ari as Siri had told him. She said she had a special task for him today. That piqued his interest.

  And that is how he found himself in this carriage with Mr. Garthan, slave master of Dothranan hold.

  “Find any slaves at the market with spirits attached to them and buy them. If there is another bidding against you, bid whatever is necessary to acquire them,” was Ari's task for him. She had given him a heavy pouch with ten gold crowns in it.

  Thorel's eyes bulged when he had counted the coins. “Mistress, surely I don't need so much?” He'd said in shock.

  Ari smiled. “I want you to acquire all you can at any price. I want to make certain you have enough.”

  If he was going to be carrying this much money, he was going to bring his knife. It didn't seem to be needed though when he arrived at the Manor stables to meet Mr. Garthan. There were a dozen Dothranan guards mounted and ready to escort them.

  The carriage came to a halt. The driver called out, “We've arrived, sirs.”

  They exited the carriage without a word and stood before the gate of the market. The stone walls were four yards tall with House Corina Guards patrolling on top. Thorel had been surprised to learn that Crown Lady Corina owned the slave trade in Vallad. As it was the Dothranan's task to provide fine wine to the realm, it was apparently Crown Lady Corina's task to regulate the slave trade in this city.

  There was a scraggly unwashed man drinking a bottle of cheap wine near the market gate. Everything about him was ragged, particularly his smell. Some people who passed tossed coppers near him.

  “Thank you, Milord,” he said with a slur to one.

  “Who is that man?” Thorel asked Garthan.

  “Just a pauper, sir. He's been here ever since I first came here... oh I think it was six summers ago? Mr. Eidelth said he was a Legion veteran. Never cared enough to ask; I can't get past the smell,” Garthan said with a laugh.

  Thorel nodded grimly. He couldn't understand why anyone would choose to live as this man did. If he couldn't find work somewhere, he could have given himself to the market. He would be cleaned, fed, and housed for the rest of his life. It would not be glamorous, but it would be better than living without a roof in his opinion. And at least he would be giving something back to the realm that way.

  Four of the Dothranan Guards entered the market with Thorel and Garthan. They were admitted by the House Corina Guards guarding the outer gate without question.

  Thorel saw many people inside. There was a pair of old slaves sweeping and picking up garbage. He saw two Legionnaires with four people his age bound and chained together. Thorel judged it likely they couldn't get into the Academy and had tried to avoid their term of service in the Crown Legion.

  Thorel could not understand why some people would try to do that. If he hadn't been accepted into the academy, he would have done his two years of service with the Legion without complaint. It would be better than destroying his chance at having a future he could choose, he thought.

  Garthan interrupted his thoughts. “Sir, we need to hurry. The auction for the prime stock will start at the eleventh hour.”

  “Of course, sir. Lead the way, Mr. Garthan.” Thorel walked with Garthan through the guarded gate to the small open plaza inside the walls.

  Inside there were many other people waiting for the auction to start. Thorel saw what appeared to be some wealthy merchants, and a rough-looking man with a pair of guards from another House whose sigil he didn't recognize.

  There was even a Wizard here! The man held his staff with a proud stance looking at the other bidders in an appraising manner. His gaze rested on Thorel for a long moment. He had two spirits attached to him by threads like Mistress Thenna's.

  Why did he look at me like that? Thorel wondered. Then a very well dressed man walked up to the podium on the raised stage in front of the gathered audience. His height was average, and he had a pate of thinning hair he kept closely cropped. He raised his hands for attention, and the hum of the gathered customers quickly quieted.

  “We are nearly ready to begin this week's auction of our newest and finest wares favored patrons. I apologize for the delay,” he said with sincerity to the waiting audience.

  “Having trouble with one of 'em? I'll straighten 'em out for you, Barquin,” the rough-looking man said with confidence.

  “I assure you Mr. Werton, that is not the case, and your assistance isn't necessary, but thank you for the offer,” Barquin bowed his balding head to Mr. Werton. He stepped away from the podium and exited hurriedly.

  Most of the crowd chuckled at the exchange, with the notabl
e exception of the middle-aged Wizard present. He seemed impatient.

  Garthan indicated Werton, “He's my counterpart from House Quarrel.”

  Thorel nodded and looked at Werton and the guards with him. He burned House Quarrel's sigil into his mind. They were the enemies of House Dothranan, and he needed to be able to recognize them easily.

  Barquin returned after a few minutes and said, “My apologies for the delay favored patrons. We are now ready to begin! And I promise it will have been well worth the wait.” With a flourish of his cape, he struck the deep-toned bell beside the podium, and the auction began.

  There were many slaves brought up for auction. The bidding was furious for the young, the obviously strong, or attractive women.

  The spectacle disturbed Thorel in a way he didn't expect. These people were slaves, but still people. The way the audience and auctioneer treated them was the way Thorel would have treated livestock he was purchasing. Feeling their muscles and checking their teeth. It did make sense for them to do so, but it still seemed wrong to him. Slaves are the least of people in the realm but didn't they still deserve the basic respect of their human birthright?

  Then a terrified young brunette girl was brought up. She had the spirit of a middle-aged man attached to her. Mr. Barquin began his sales pitch without delay. “This young dove was brought in by her mother just last night. Fifteen years old, and still a virgin! She'll be sixteen in November, for anyone looking for a wife. Bidding will start at two gold coins!”

  Thorel was disgusted by the way Barquin had presented this girl. What did it matter that she was a virgin? Her starting price was double what every other before now had been. Thorel obligingly raised his hand to bid, as his Mistress commanded. More than half of the men here bid as well, including the Wizard. This was the first one the Wizard had bid on, come to think of it.

  The bidding was fast and furious. Most of the other men dropped out of the bidding when her price reached five gold coins. The only ones left bidding at that point was Mr. Werton, a Merchant with guards, and the Wizard.

  At eight gold coins, the merchant excused himself from contention. Soon after, when the girl's price reached a gold crown and one coin, Werton also dropped out of the bidding. Thorel's mind was boggled by the amount of money he was spending here, but he wouldn't disobey Ari's command.

  Garthan tipped his head to Werton with a victorious grin. Werton snarled visibly and made an obscene gesture to him in return. Garthan just laughed at him.

  They continued to bid, the price going up by a gold coin each time until Thorel finally won the girl at one crown and five coins. The Wizard nodded to Thorel unpleasantly. Thorel realized then that this Wizard was most likely here for the same reason he was: he was here to find slaves with spirits attached to them.

  “Sold, to that man there!” Barquin called out loudly, pointing to him.

  “House Dothranan,” Garthan supplied. Thorel nodded in agreement.

  “Sold to House Dothranan, then!” He said less exuberantly this time.

  The girl was taken from the stage with whispered instructions from Barquin to the House Corina Guards.

  “They'll put her with the one I bought, and we'll settle the sale when the auction is done,” Garthan answered his unasked question quietly. Thorel nodded, grateful for the man's knowledge and guidance.

  The auction continued for another hour at least. Thorel was able to acquire two more slaves with spirits attached to them. One was a young man who had been caught trying to avoid Legion service, and the other man had been sentenced to slavery for raping a woman.

  The rapist had been struggling with the Guards that held him during the entire bidding process. He yelled obscenities at them and proclaimed his innocence until Barquin had him gagged. He apologized for not having the opportunity to break him of that yet, which drew a laugh from Werton. His price started at half of all the others, and the only other who had bid on him at all was the Wizard.

  When the auction concluded, the Wizard approached Thorel and asked: “What year are you, apprentice?” The man was not tall but was taller than Eliel, and clean-shaved. While he did not appear to be well-muscled, he was lean. His sharp eyes observed everything around him carefully from beneath a shaggy shock of dark hair.

  Thorel started slightly at the question. “Um, first year, Milord.”

  “Surprising that a first-year apprentice would have such coin to spend on his spirits. I would have taken it as a professional courtesy if you could have let me have at least one of them,” he said with an unpleasant smile.

  Thorel tensed under the Wizard's obvious ire. The four guards with them began to encircle the man without a word. Thorel saw a small thread of power coming from the man's staff and touching all the guards. It did not seem to be harming them, but Thorel could not discern the purpose of the Magik. Thorel took power into himself to be ready to use his shield if this turned ugly.

  The Wizard smiled again, this time more pleasantly. “Relax apprentice, you did not insult me. It is a bit frustrating though, to have an untrained apprentice buying all the spirits out from under me.”

  Thorel relaxed but did not let go of his power. “I didn't mean to inconvenience you, Milord. My Mistress commanded me to acquire all I could, at any price.”

  He nodded. “I like the way your Mistress thinks then. I am Wizard Feran. Perhaps I should offer House Dothranan my service if this is how they treat an apprentice.”

  Thorel nodded. “If you wish, Milord. I do not know the Mistress's mind on that though.”

  “Well then, I guess I will just have to inquire. Good day, apprentice,” he nodded and walked away. His threads of power returned a moment later.

  Garthan let go of his dagger and exhaled. “I didn't like the look of that. Well handled, sir.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Thorel said with more confidence than he felt. He returned his power to his father's spirit. He was relieved that hadn't turned into something serious. His body was still flooded with adrenaline because of the unexpected confrontation.

  They went to Mr. Barquin's office to complete their purchases quickly.

  * * *

  They walked out of the market with their five new slaves in tow. Garthan walked with the rapist, who still had the gag tied over his mouth. The guards walked with the three others. Thorel walked with the young girl.

  The girl was so terrified; Thorel was worried about her. He was appalled by the idea that her mother had sold her and confirmed the story with Mr. Barquin. He said it happened fairly regularly.

  He explained that a parent could sell their natural child after they had turned thirteen, but not after they had turned sixteen. It was mostly single mothers that did this according to him. He went on to say that he'd had the Crown Legion take more than one person into custody when he suspected them of kidnapping other people's children to sell.

  That entire idea appalled Thorel. He did compliment Mr. Barquin for having those people taken into custody for such a heinous crime though.

  Barquin smiled hideously at that, “If found guilty, they will likely fill my pens and pockets when sold on behalf of Crown Lady Corina. I am no philanthropist, sir.” Thorel blinked at that statement. He simply didn't have the vocabulary to reply to such a selfish sentiment.

  Thorel spent most of the walk from the purchasing office to the gate trying to calm the girl. Garthan had admonished him to keep a tight grip on her leash. He wouldn't want to explain to the Mistress that he had let so much coin just run away.

  He did keep a tight grip, but he refused to think of this young girl just as a possession. Her name was Mae, according to Barquin. She would answer his questions yes or no, but wouldn't speak otherwise.

  They passed through the gate. Thorel saw the stinking pauper nearby and walked to him, pulling out a copper coin.

  “Thank you Milord,” he slurred, smiling at Thorel through his decayed teeth.

  “I want something for my coin,” Thorel said.

  “What can t
his old pauper do for you, Milord?” He asked, eyeing him warily.

  “Answer a question. Why do you live like this when you could give yourself to the market and be clothed, fed and housed for the rest of your life?” Thorel asked seriously.

  “Why indeed,” he smiled, his reeking breath flowing forth. “I can live as I wish this way. Sleep when I want, drink when I want, and go where I want. What is a life of comfort, compared to a life of freedom? Not a life worth living to me. Does that answer your question, Milord?”

  “Yes. Yes it does, sir,” Thorel replied, and changed the copper coin he was going to give him to a copper mark instead. He stepped back to remove himself from the man's odoriferous cloud.

  “Many thanks, Milord!” The pauper exclaimed drunkenly.

  Thorel nodded in reply and continued to their wagons with Mae in tow. The guards fell in with him when he started. He hadn't expected any revelation when he had asked his question. He had expected him to say he didn't want to work, or something of that nature.

  Korin had always said such men were worthless laggards. Thorel wondered if he had ever asked one what he had. He would have to ask Korin when he visited home in October, during the one month break between semesters. He had so much to tell him, he couldn't wait for the chance.

  They reached the carriages. The waiting guards untethered their mounts. The drivers opened the carriage doors, and Garthan spoke. “I'll ride with the slaves, sir, and make sure they don't cause any trouble.”

  “Of course,” Thorel said. “I'll take Mae with me. She's scared out of her wits, and I'd like to try to calm her down.”

  “Gonna break her in for me? Thank you, sir!” Garthan said with a conspiratorial grin.

  Thorel was too shocked by what this man just said to react at first. He just blinked in pure astonishment.

  “Hold this please,” he said handing Mae's tether to the nearest guard. Thorel walked purposefully to the other wagon and Garthan. Had his mind not been so focused on Garthan, he might have noticed the Dothranan guards stepping away from him and whispering amongst themselves.