The Sacrifice

by Nhys Glover

  The sound of running water was torture. I had limited my drinking to a few swallows at a time, but already my flask was half empty. And the water in it was hot and tasted bad. Out there, no more than a few strides away, was a stream of fresh, cold water. Wonderful, running water. But I could not get to it.

  More miserable than I had ever been in my life, I listlessly nibbled on a date and rice bun and then settled back down for the night. My body ached all over, I felt filthy, itchy and sweat-soaked. If the harem could only see me now they might ask me if death might not be preferable to what I was putting myself through.

  But I was made of tougher stuff than most of the denizens of the harem. They believed they were soft and needed protecting from the harshness of the outside world. I knew differently. Or I thought I did. Years of physical training had honed me in more than one way. I knew I was physically strong. Stronger than most women, stronger even than most boys my size, but I was also mentally strong. Both would aid me to last out this journey.

  And what if guards from the palace arrived to check the wagon? The longer we travelled, the safer I probably was. Yet I could be fooling myself. All it would take was a couple of troopers on airlings to swoop down and land nearby. It would take no time at all for me to be discovered. My worries ate at my soul as sleep dragged me under once more.

  I woke to the smell of carva brewing over a fire. My stomach clenched in recognition. I hastily drew out my water flask and took a sip. Next, I ate the juiciest piece of fruit I had left, to help quench my thirst a little more. By the time I had put in enough to satisfy my body, I then had the issue of what needed to come out. I had to wait until the wagon was well under way before I could address that need.

  From the rough voices I had heard, I determined that there were only two wagoners: one young and one old. They seemed to know each other well and worked seamlessly together to carry out the tasks required on the journey. If I strained my ears and they spoke loud enough I could catch snatches of their conversation. At one time I felt my stomach turn over as they started talking about the impending sacrifice on the solstice. They were not Godslunders and their opinion of the sacrifice was more in line with mine. That young girls were killed in an attempt to get the gods to award more magic seemed wrong to them.

  This heartened me a little. I wondered if they might keep my secret if I revealed myself to them. But the risk was too great. Fear or greed might turn a man's head. What he might condemn as an impartial onlooker, he might accept if he had a chance to improve his lot or save his life.

  No, hiding and hoping to get as far from Godslund as possible was my only hope.

  For another steaming hot day I sweltered under the wagon cover. I had eaten all the juicy foods and almost all the water. I was not sure how much longer I could survive in my lumbering, stifling prison.

  Another night followed of restless dozing between cramping pains. I was mortified when I had to do more than pee between the barrels, but what flowed from me was more liquid than solid as it sluggishly passed between the floorboards. Shame became the companion of fear then, as I wondered at my own arrogance. To imagine that I, a cloistered princess, could escape her prison unscathed had been madness. Or ignorance. Or mayhap it was arrogance, madness and ignorance that had brought me to this place. I did not think the wagon would take this long to reach the coast. I had been wrong. I thought I had enough food and water to last. Yet again I was wrong. I thought I was strong enough to withstand the rigors of the journey... my biggest mistake of all.

  Time began to pass in a blur of wakefulness and sleep. I measured days and nights by the stillness and movement of the wagon. My water ran out, which at least meant that I did not have to relieve myself anymore, and the last of my food was gone not long after. An ache had started up in my head not long after the flask was emptied and it felt as if a mason was hammering into my temples. I dry-heaved as quietly as I could, to ease my cramping belly, but by that point I was beyond caring if the wagoners heard me, or even if I was caught and returned to the palace. At least for the days until the solstice I would be cool and clean, and I could have all the water and food I wanted.

  It might have been day three or four or even five when the wagon came to a standstill amidst the bustle and noise of a township. I laughingly remembered my plan to jump up and run as soon as the cover was removed. I would be lucky if I could drag myself over the edge of the wagon and crawl away, I was so weak now.

  The hot fresh air that hit me as the covering was removed was a gift. But the brightness was blinding and only added to the throbbing pain in my head. My stomach cramped in response but there was nothing left inside me to come out.

  "Hey, what's this?" the younger of the two wagoners yelled, probably seeing me sprawled across his bags of grain for the first time.

  "A stowaway, I'm thinkin'," the older man said gruffly. "Wonder where we picked him up."

  Rough hands grabbed at my clothes and all I could do was whimper. I was dragged across the bags to tumble down off the end of the wagon into the dust. I heard someone laugh cruelly.

  "What's your name, lad, and where do you come from?" I barely registered the question as I was dragged by the front of my tunic to my feet. The fabric gave, tearing away before the hand could get a better grip, and I fell back into the dust again.

  "Good gods, that's no lad!" That was the young wagoner from somewhere close, but not close enough to be the man who had torn my tunic.

  "I'll take 'er off yer hands, gents. I can always use a new girl in my establishment. Call it me paying her way here." This was another male voice, louder and more arrogant than the others. I felt my spine stiffen. I knew the tone of a bully when I heard it.

  With what was left of my strength I staggered to my feet, searching desperately for an escape route. I was in mortal danger now. I could barely see through my swollen, blurry eyes, but I knew that much. I had to get away. And I had to do it now.

  Someone reached for me and I instinctively moved to defend myself. With a loud umph, my assailant ended up in the dust at my feet. Raucous laughter hurt my ears and the man at my feet swore crudely and with violence. I knew I had made an enemy. From one moment to the next I had gone from harmless oddity to threat.

  "You little bitch. I'll teach you," the furious man spat at me as he gained his feet and lunged at me again. I have no idea where I found the strength, but I judged his approach, swung around to come up behind him, and kicked his legs out from under him as I went.

  Panting, I waited for his next attack.

  "Enough!" A new voice yelled, this one deeper and younger than most of the others.

  "Stay out of it Airlud, you're not welcome here!" my attacker spat as he again clambered to his feet.

  "Welcome or not, I won't see this girl hurt. Or sold into a whore house."

  "You have no problem visitin' my establishment when you have the need," sneered the bully who was now a step or two further away. I was relying on my other senses more than my eyes because my vision was nothing but hurtfully bright and blurred colours.

  "I visit the girls who are happy to work on their backs. This one is barely into her womanhood and I doubt she would willingly take anyone to her bed. So, no, you can't have her, Gambler."

  "Not up to you, Airlud. I say she belongs to the men who brung her here. They say if she's for sale or not."

  I heard the voices as if they came from a long distance away. I knew this argument was important and my life might depend on its outcome but I was beyond caring.

  Darkness replaced blinding light and I felt my legs give way under me. In the next moment, I was lifted and held by strong arms. I wanted to fight my captor but all my energy was gone.

  "She ain't ours to sell. You take her," the old wagoner said. "Look after her. She looks half dead to me. How she survived under there for more than a day I don't know. But she sure must have been desperate to get away from wherever she was from."

  With a grunt my captor spun and strode away. I heard
heavy footsteps following close behind.

  "You're a fool, Darkin," another deep voice said from just behind us. "We don't need more enemies. And how're you planning on feeding her? We barely scrape enough together to feed ourselves."

  I wondered fleetingly if my jewels were still sewn into the hem of my tunic or if they had fallen out when it was torn. I wanted to tell my captor I could pay my way. I would not be a drain on his supplies as the other man claimed. But words were beyond me. All I could do was to let the two men argue my fate and hope that wherever I ended up I would be safer than I was with the bully who wanted to turn me into a whore.

  I knew about whores. The youths-in-training talked about them. I had also heard the soldiers joke about them as they gambled. I knew they sold their bodies and that they had no husbands. They were disrespected and considered the lowest of the low by both the youths and guards. I did not want to be one of them. I would rather go back and be sacrificed, than be one of them.

  "What do you want me to do with her, Rama? Give her to the Gambler so he can turn her into a whore? Even you haven't sunk that low."

  "How do you know she wasn't a whore wherever she came from?" came the gruff reply, though it was less determined now.

  "If she was, then she ran away from that life. She doesn't want to be a whore and I say she won't be one."

  "Your heart rules your head too often, brother."

  "That's what they said when we came for you. Where would you be now if I'd made that choice from my head?"

  I heard several colourful swearwords, but the man behind us made no further complaint. Until we came to a standstill, that was.

  "How do you plan on getting her home? The airlings are solidly packed. Not sure if they can take more and still get off the ground."

  Airlings? I must have misheard. Did he say airlings? I felt my heart skitter to life in my chest.

  "She weighs next to nothing. One sack of meal from mine to yours and we'll even out the load. I'll need to tie her to me, though."

  "Can't have her falling off when she realises she's a hundred strides above ground and panics," came the wry comment from behind. I was starting to not like the second man. A lot.

  I heard a chuckle deep in my captor's chest. But I was seeing him differently now. He was not my captor, but my saviour. For whatever reason, this man − What was he called? Something dark − had stopped the Gambler from taking me. For that I would be eternally grateful.

  The other man seemed to busy himself with something as a weird squawking sound filled the air. It was unlike anything I had ever heard before and it grated on my already frayed nerves.

  "Never mind, my beauty, it isn't for long, I promise you. You can do this for me, can't you?" The unfriendly man's voice was deep and crooning and it did weird things to my insides. I did not want to like him. He did not want to rescue me. If he had had his way the Gambler would have me now. But when he spoke like that, as if speaking to a loved one, his voice was... mesmerising.

  My rescuer, Dark, slid me down his body until my feet touched grass. I used all my strength to keep standing. But when he let me go to fetch rope I slid to the ground in a graceless heap, giving in to the darkness that claimed me.

  Chapter Five

  When I awoke I could feel cool air on my face. It revitalised me in a way I had never known before. Better than food or water. Better than a long hot bath in scented water. It was as if life itself was being infused into me.

  I opened my eyes and saw clearly for the first time in days. The view took my breath away. We were flying! I was tied in front of a man, I assumed it was Dark, and we sat atop a flying beastling... An airling! It had to be. There were no other beastlings a human could ride in the sky.

  The whole world spread out below me like a colourful map. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. I felt tears I thought I no longer had left blur my vision. I blinked them away so I could look my fill.

  "This is the most incredible... amazing thing," I croaked out in awe, not sure the man could hear me over the rush of air past our ears.

  I turned my head and craned to look at him for the first time. My expression must have said it all. He grinned at me and his face suddenly lost ten suncycles. Before that smile I would have judged him to be half way through his twenties. That smile made him look younger than I was.

  "Like it?" he yelled, the wind whipping the words from his mouth. Yet I still heard them. I nodded energetically and turned back to watch as we began our descent.

  In the distance I could see a ramshackle wooden building with metal roof and covered portico on three sides. Behind it was a much larger barn-shaped structure, even more roughly made. Beside it was a fenced-in paddock where a small herd of what I assumed were airlings grazed peacefully.

  A man sat on the fence watching the creatures. When he noticed us, he lifted his arm to wave a greeting. I wanted to wave back, so thrilled was I by my unexpected flight, but I stopped myself. The man was not waving at me, he was waving at my companions. He did not even know I was with them. He might be as reluctant to have me stay as his brother...Ra something. I wish I had been more aware when they first took me.

  We swooped lower and I could not hold back the whoop of pure joy that escaped me. I wanted to spread my own wings and fly with the airlings. I never wanted it to end.

  But it did, too soon. The huge creature landed with a few dainty hops and then lowered its great, narrow head to graze on the yellowing grass of the fields.

  While Dark busied himself untying us, I watched the man who approached. He looked a little like Dark, but instead of black hair his was dark auburn. His cheeks were covered by a fine fuzz of red much lighter than his hair. His heavy lidded eyes held sadness and acceptance, even as they studied me with curiosity.

  "Decided we needed a better cook than Jaron," Dark said by way of greeting.

  The approaching man shook his head but said nothing.

  "I know, I know. Rama's already lectured me about us not having enough food to feed a stray. But she'll be worth it, trust me."

  The silent man looked over at Rama, who had just landed at our side. The wind from the wings of his airling gave me a rush of excitement. I needed wind as much as I needed life itself.

  "Don't blame me. He used the whore card on me. It was a dirty trick but it worked. She's staying. But she better be a better cook than Jaron or she'll be out of here as soon as she can walk." Now I could identify something beneath Rama's uncaring words. Something that told me there was heart in him, mayhap one almost as big as Dark's.

  I looked at him more closely for the first time. He looked nothing like the other two, though he was as tall and muscular as they were. His fair skin was tanned golden by the sun and his hair was as light as Dark's was black. Not white-blonde like my own, but golden. It was what covered his face, though, that differentiated him most from the other two. His features were scarred and a chunk had been cut out of his ear. It hurt to look at him.

  For the first time I noticed the length of their hair. I was so used to seeing men with long flowing locks, braided sometimes, or tied back, but always long and down. These men had hair that barely reached their shoulders. It was shocking, almost mortifying. As if I was witnessing a dirty secret they all shared.

  "Like what you see, Princess?" Rama said dryly, noticing my rapt uncomfortable gaze. I could tell I had embarrassed him. He didn't like people staring at his scars. But my reaction puzzled me and I needed to understand it. Oddly, the scars, though ugly and vicious, only seemed to add to his appeal. I could not call him handsome, but his strong face was appealing, and made more so by the scars that marred it. Yet it hurt to look at him, as if I felt the pain of every one of those healed wounds.

  "I like that you have accepted my presence for the moment," I replied, surprising him with my cheekiness.

  "You were on death's door before we took off, how can you be so..."

  "Alive now?" I finished for him.

  "Aye, I suppo
se you could call it that."

  I shrugged. "I have just experienced something I never thought possible. I flew. It was enough to enervate anyone."

  "Enervate? What's that mean?" Rama asked suspiciously. "And what's a whore doing using big words like that?"

  "Give energy to, enliven," I replied, after thinking about it for a moment. I had never had to explain my words to anyone, although I knew my vocabulary was superior to others. Mother had been the most educated of the wives of the harem. It had been what kept my father's interest all these years. It made her an entertaining companion. "And do not call me a whore. I have never been so lowly a woman."

  "Are you looking down your nose at women who can't help what they're forced to do, Princess? See how lowly you'd become if you had four childlings to feed and no other way to put food on the table," Rama snarled at me, making me step back a little in fear.

  "Stop," Dark said quickly. "She knows no better. Leave her alone."

  Rama threw up his hands in disgust. "Darkin, you and your bleeding heart'll be the death of me. Listen to her. She's some rich girl who's run away from home on a whim. Probably because her papa'd picked the wrong husband for her. They'll track her down and then we'll be dead men for taking her."

  I did not know what to say. He was so close to the truth I could not argue against him. And if the Godling tracked me down these men would pay for my crimes. My father would need someone to blame for my escape, other than me. I did not want these men to have to pay for what I had done.

  A wild yell came from the dwelling not far away. A brown-haired young man only a few years older than me came dashing out to meet us. He drew up sharply the moment he caught sight of me.

  "Who's your friend, Darkin? I'm not sure I can stretch the stew to feed a guest." The cheeky grin on his too handsome features belied his words. He glanced down at my chest and for the first time I realised that my small breasts were on display. I hastily pulled at the tattered remnants of my tunic, trying to cover myself.