“You wouldn’t know him.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Boris knew they had been a mistake. The man slapped his face hard with the back of his hand.
“You’ll learn to respect your betters, slave. Now, I’ll ask again. Who did you work for?”
“Lord Garik, leader of the assassin’s guilds in the kingdom of Tar Ebon.”
“Oh ho, so we have ourselves an assassin, do we?” The man rubbed his hands together. “Wonderful!” He turned toward the chamberlain, who stood on the ground below. “I’ll take this one. I’ll give you five gold coins for him.”
The chamberlain considered the offer, but at last nodded. “He’s yours.”
The slave master snapped his fingers and two hulking men came and hauled Boris from the stage and into the warehouse.
Inside the warehouse, the stench of sweat and human waste almost overwhelmed Boris’ senses. It reminded him of the prison beneath the Vergingrad manor. Cages lined the walls, many filled with human slaves, while others were filled with beasts. Boris was thrown into an empty cage located between a cage full of vicious dogs and a pair of women. They tossed his clothing to him and he dressed.
As the day wore on, Boris wondered if he had been forgotten. By the end of the day, four men and two women were added to cages. Boris ended up sharing a cage with two other men. They left him alone, and he left them alone in turn. At last, the market closed and the slave master entered the warehouse. He perused his new merchandise, inspecting each of them as if they were pigs being assessed for the slaughterhouse. He pointed to one of the new women and she was dragged out of her cage. Before the eyes of the gathered slaves, the slave master took the woman repeatedly. His men jeered, while most of the slaves averted their eyes. Boris watched, but only to remember the reasons he needed to be free.
Chapter 11 - The Long Road
Cold water splashed against John’s face as he brought his hands from within the stream up to his face. Standing up, he turned and walked back to camp, cringing at the pain. Having spent more than a week in the saddle, John and the others had developed saddle sores that caused them pain every time they sat or walked. Dawyn and Ashley assured him the sores would go away with time, replaced by hard calluses, but John had a hard time waiting.
Though he was nowhere to be seen, Dawyn had a fire going, over which Anwyn was cooking several rabbits. Jason and Ashley had already visited the stream and stood off at the edge of the firelight talking in soft voices. John walked over to join them. “Hey, what’s up?”
Ashley turned toward him. “Jason and I were discussing the possibility of the three of us leaving, going our own way.” She lowered her voice further. “I mean, how do we know we can trust them?”
John turned slightly to see Anwyn out of the corner of his eyes. “We don’t, but Ashley, we are better off with them than on our own. Need I remind you what happened when we were on our own?” He tapped his chest. “I owe them my life. I say we continue with them to Tar Ebon, meet this mage they want to hook us up with and see what she has to say.” He shrugged. “Who knows, maybe we’ll find we actually do have magic.”
Jason snorted. “Fat chance of that. Magic doesn’t exist - it defies the laws of physics. The way Dawyn described it, it consists of manipulating matter and energy with your mind. That’s impossible - the human mind doesn’t generate enough energy to manipulate anything outside of the human body, and on top of that, there’s no way to project it. Also, these nanites saved your life, not them.”
John sighed. “Jason, would you put aside your analytical nature for a moment and feel? This is the right thing to do. Whether or not magic exists, we’ll have better odds of finding a way home from a large city than out here in the wilderness. So let’s just drop it for now, okay?”
Jason nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Ashley mouthed a silent “thank you” to John while her back was turned to Jason, before turning and walking back to the fire. John and Jason followed.
Anwyn looked up as they approached and smiled. “The conies are almost ready. Dawyn went to fetch some more wood for the fire. Have a…” seeing the grimaces on their faces she stopped. “Oh, right, I forgot. It will be less painful if you stand.”
“Isn’t there anything in that druid toolkit of yours that can heal saddle sores?” Jason asked.
“No, there isn’t anything in my ‘toolkit’ as you called it that can heal saddle sores. I’m sorry. Time is the only medicine for those.”
“Bah, what I wouldn’t give for some modern medicine. Why aren’t these nanites healing the sores?”
“Perhaps they’re smarter than you,” Dawyn said as he returned with an armful of wood. “If the nanites continually healed the saddle sores you’d keep getting them. Better to let you get calluses and adapt to your environment than constantly be fighting discomfort.”
“Hmmph,” Jason grunted. “Maybe.”
“The conies smell good, my darling,” Dawyn said as he leaned down to kiss Anwyn.
“Thank you,” Anwyn replied as she returned the kiss.
Minutes later, the group was gnawing on cooked rabbit. John had to chew at it for a bit, but it tasted good after a long day traveling. They had travel rations for during the day, but at night Dawyn insisted on hunting game for them to eat. Anwyn would shift into a predatory animal form, such as a wolf or a large hawk, and go hunt at Dawyn’s side.
“How much further to Tar Ebon?” John asked in between bites.
“It’s about three day’s ride. Do you remember the bridge we crossed a short ways back? That’s generally the three day mark for anyone riding at a normal pace.”
Chapter 12 - Practice
“Thrust!” The voice of the gladiatorial instructor Darin boomed across the training yard of the Helgstad estates, where the gladiators owned by Victor Helgstad were trained. Darin Verkov towered over even Boris, with muscles bulging from beneath the leather jerkin he wore. At his belt hung several implements of training - a long leather whip, two wooden swords and two long knives. As he paced he turned, the light reflecting on the shield hanging from his back.
Boris thrust, as commanded. The man facing off against him, Clarence, lifted his shield to block the blow before attempting to counter with a forward thrust of his shield. Boris sidestepped the shield thrust and swung low with the wooden practice sword, sweeping the legs out from beneath Clarence. He pressed the tip of the blade into the soft center of Clarence’s throat. “Do you yield?” he asked.
“I yield,” Clarence said before shoving the blade away from him and clasping Boris’ hand to get to his feet.
Darin surveyed the slaves. Many had been struck by shield or sword, some lay on the ground while others were bent over due to lack of breath. “Again,” he snapped. “Switch weapons, resume your positions and prepare to thrust.”
Boris sighed but resumed the fighting stance for a countless time. Over a fortnight had passed since Boris had been sold in Rolstad. The day after being sold, Boris was shoved into a cage with several men and a few women and sent to Helgstad estates. Victor told the male slaves they would be trained as gladiators, while the female slaves were put to work in the kitchens or around the estate doing various odd jobs, including fulfilling Victor’s more personal desires.
The group of slaves being trained had been much larger when the group began. During the first day of training, one of the slaves fainted. Darin walked up to the slave and slit the man’s throat. “You faint and you die,” he said, and the unmarked graves outside of the estates attested to that. Two of the slaves attempted to escape in the night but had been caught by the guards. Darin whipped them personally with his leather whip until their backs were raw and bloody, before leaving them strung up to die.
“Thrust,” Darin shouted.
Boris, anticipating Clarence’s clumsy thrust, blocked the thrust squarely on his shield, causing Clarence to recoil. Boris held his arm out to the side and twisted it, causing the shield to become horizontal to the ground
. He swept the shield through Clarence’s legs and once again knocked him on his back.
“How do you do that?” Clarence asked, his chest heaving.
“Practice,” Boris said.
“Were you a soldier?”
Boris snorted. “I learned how to kill a man using whatever means necessary. That’s what soldiers do too, but I’m no soldier.”
“Oh.”
I need to think of a plan to escape, Boris thought. Those two fools the other night were careless. Perhaps I could do it. Even with his certainty, Boris was still wary. After the escape attempt the other night, the guards were likely more alert for escaped slaves. There was also the issue of the shackles around his feet and arms that were placed on him each night. Perhaps I can slip something off of one of the guards, like a key or knife to help pick the locks.
The training continued throughout the day, ending with a dinner consisting of bowls of sludge the cooks attempted to pass off as porridge. Boris sat down at an empty table, though Clarence soon joined him. Boris looked up at him as he sat down. “What are you doing?”
“I’m eating,” Clarence said. “Or was this seat taken?”
Boris looked down into his bowl. “Next time, ask.”
“Why should I ask? You don’t own the table. Even if you said no, I would still be seated.”
Boris looked at the young man. “You’re a cocky lad, aren’t you? I’d drop the attitude if I were you, boy, or you’ll wind up dead even faster.”
Clarence leaned forward conspiratorially. “I heard from some of the other slaves that in the gladiatorial ring, if you win one hundred matches you’ll be set free and given a grand reward by the emperor himself. Do you think it’s true?”
“No,” Boris said, shoveling a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. “It’s a way to give hope to men like us. If we believe we can one day be free, we’ll be less likely to attempt to flee. That saves the slavers money and costs them literally nothing. Put such hopes out of your mind, for I expect you and I will not survive half a dozen matches.”
“Speak for yourself. I plan on being alive for a long time.”
Oh, the bravado of youth, Boris thought. He will soon learn that his bravado is naught but a shield of paper and the first blade will tear through it.
Chapter 13 - The Tower
As the group crested the ridge, John felt his breath leave him. Having lived in the modern era of Earth, John was used to technology and large cities. The city before him, while not large by Earth standards, was breathtaking. Black walls that reflected the light like mirrors towered over the plains that led to the gates of the city. In the very center of the city sat a shining silver tower, the tip of which tapered up into the sky, where it was lost among the clouds. Never before had John seen such a large tower. The way the light reflected off of the tower in the overcast conditions, John could envision what it would look like in full sunlight, for it would shine like a beacon, blanketing the land in light.
Dawyn turned in his saddle and saw the look of wonderment in the eyes of John, Ashley and Jason. He smiled. “Behold, Tar Ebon. One of the seven great cities of the world, seat of power for the kingdom of Tar Ebon and home to the Tower of the Seven Stars.”
“Wow,” Ashley said. “That tower is so tall!”
“How could they have built that?” Jason said. “They wouldn’t have had the architectural technology to build a tower that high without a strong infrastructure of steel or another firm metal.”
“Hey,” John said, slapping Jason on the back. “Stop with the analyzing for a moment and just enjoy the sight, will ya?”
“The Tower was built a thousand years ago,” Dawyn said. “The legends tell that the Founders came from beyond this world. If they were able to reach this planet in spaceships, don’t you think they would be able to build a really tall metal tower?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Jason said.
“Come on,” Dawyn said, whipping the reins and sending his horse, Shadow, into motion. The others followed after him.
Once through the gates, Dawyn led them to a tavern named The Dancing Mare. There he introduced them to the innkeeper, Paul and his wife, Elizabeth. Dawyn told the three from Earth that they would always be safe in The Dancing Mare, and that they should trust the innkeeper and his wife.
Next, the group made their way to the Tower of the Seven Stars. The grounds of the Tower were fenced in, with four gates positioned around it, but the guards made no move to stop anyone entering. Upon entering the Tower, Dawyn approached the desk at the ground floor and asked the woman there if she would call Alivia O’Leary and tell her that Dawyn Darklance was asking to see her.
The woman turned to a console behind her and punched in a series of numbers. A few moments later, the woman was talking into the headset atop her head. She nodded several times and then hit a button on the console. She turned back to Dawyn. “Master O’Leary will be right down to see you, sir.”
Minutes later, the distinct red hair of Alivia O’Leary was visible as she exited one of the lift tubes in the lobby. As her eyes fell on Dawyn and Anwyn, she smiled. “Dawyn, Anwyn, how good to see you. How have you been?” She strode forward and gave them each a hug.
“We’ve been great,” Anwyn said. “It’s wonderful to see you again, old friend.”
“We’ve been well, thank you Alivia,” Dawyn said. “I would like to introduce you to our new friends.” He gestured to where John, Ashley and Jason were standing. “Allow me to introduce Johnathan, Jason and Ashley. They are from far away but my understanding is they have the potential of magic. We were wondering if you might consider training them.”
Alivia eyed the three Dawyn indicated. She smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Yes, Dawyn, it would be my pleasure to train them if they have the potential.”
Jason snorted. “I still don’t think we have any magic. It’s all a bunch of mumbo jumbo if you ask me.”
“You’ll have to excuse Jason,” Ashley said as she stepped forward to shake hands with Alivia. “He is very skeptical of the things we have seen so far during our journey.”
“I understand your skepticism. Many children doubt that they have any power or that anything is special about them when they first come to the Tower. But, like them, we shall show you how to recognize your potential and make the most of it. Will you be staying within the tower or elsewhere?”
“I’ve secured them rooms at the Dancing Mare,” Dawyn said. “They will make the trek to the Tower for their training.”
Alivia nodded. “Very good. If the three of you will follow me, we can get started.”
John turned to Dawyn. “Aren’t you coming with us?”
“Unfortunately only the initiates of the Tower or potential candidates are allowed beyond this point. Anwyn and I will return to the Dancing Mare. We will remain there until tomorrow. Please return to the tavern tonight so that we can hear how your day went. Beginning tomorrow we are going in search of the slave master.”
Following Dawyn and Anwyn’s departure, Alivia led the three Earthlings to one of the large rooms off of the lobby. Within the room sat several chairs and couches. Orbs along the walls cast a strange glow throughout the room. The orbs reminded John of the light cast by light bulbs back home. “Please, sit,” Alivia said as she indicated the furniture. “We want to make this process as comfortable as possible.”
Once the three were seated, she stood before them and began to speak. “Before we begin with the testing, do any of you know what a mage is?”
Ashley raised her hand and began to speak. “Dawyn told us mages have the ability to manipulate matter and energy, is that correct?”
Alivia nodded. “At the most basic level, yes. A mage has the ability to view the world at a different, deeper level, than normal humans. A mage can feel the flows of energy and see the building blocks of matter. A mage can extend the energy contained within their mind out into the world to manipulate the energy and matter that is all around them. Part of the tr
aining a mage undergoes involves first tapping into the ability to view the world, and then focusing on tuning it out. Without the ability to focus their attention, a mage would be flooded by their deeper perception of the world and paralyzed by sensory overload. Only once both steps have been successfully completed can teaching of the act of manipulation begin.”
“So how do we start sensing this world?” Ashley asked as she leaned forward.
“The first step is to test if you have the ability.” Alivia walked to a cabinet that lined the wall, pulled open the door and lifted a metal circlet from within. “The Founders created devices that could detect magical potential within an individual.” She moved toward the three, circlet held out in front of her with care. When she reached them, she placed the headband on her own head. The circlet remained the same, a cool silvery color, for a few moments, before suddenly lighting up and casting a bright red glow throughout the room. “The headband lights to indicate the potential of the individual. The more powerful the glow, the more powerful that person’s potential.” She held up a finger. “Note that I said ‘potential’. This does not mean you will automatically have that much power - only that the circlet predicts that you could have that much power, given proper training. Who would like to go first?”
John raised his hand. “I will go first.”
Alivia removed the circlet from her head, causing it to return to its previous unlit state, and stepped forward to place the circlet atop John’s head. Like before, nothing happened at first. Several moments passed, and nothing. John sighed. “Well, I guess…” he was cut short by an explosion of pure white light from the circlet. The intensity caused the others to shield their eyes immediately.
“Take it off,” Alivia said.
John reached up and removed the circlet, extinguishing the intense aura. He held the circlet in his hands. “So, uh, I guess that was good, right?”
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