by J. J. Newman
Tsaeris had no idea how long he had cut away at the man, but when his rage had finally cooled into an angry simmer, the man was lying on the ground in front of him, whimpering. There was blood everywhere. Tsaeris’ knife was short, and none of the wounds had penetrated the man deeply enough to kill him. At least not right away, but the man would no doubt bleed out from the many dozens of wounds.
“Please. Please, stop,” the man begged, weeping blood and tears from his damaged face.
Tsaeris stared down at the man, his eyes cold and as grey as flint. The man must not have liked what he saw in the boy’s eyes, because his weeping and whimpering increased.
Without a word, Tsaeris bent over the man and, after several heaves, pushed him over the side into the reservoir. The man screamed and cried the entire way down. Tsaeris waited until the man hit the water, then turned and walked away from that foul place, leaving the man to die from blood loss and the inevitable infections from the filthy water. It was time to find a place to sleep.
***
Tsaeris had a bit of coin and spent the night at an inn. By morning he had almost completely disregarded the events of the night before. All emotion and rage was gone. Any effect that Jason’s death had had on him had played itself out completely, and would soon be forgotten.
The only thing he felt for Jason at that moment was annoyance. Tsaeris had spent all this time stealing enough coin to purchase some cheap maps from a general goods stall, and for sleeping accommodations while on the road, and that little bastard goes and gets himself killed. He couldn't ask any other street kid to join him on his journey to Market. It was too dangerous. If the take was really good, a street kid might decide he didn't want to share, and Tsaeris could find his head smashed open with a piece of wood or a stone. Jason, at least, would have been decent enough to not try and kill him.
He was still going, however. He had invested far too much time and effort into this endeavor to just quit now. It didn't take Tsaeris long to find the silver lining in his partners untimely death. Now his cut would be much bigger, and in the end he would rather work by himself. Yes, maybe this was all for the best.
He took a day to gather his supplies. He had more than enough coin for the journey, and now that Jason was dead, he could afford a new shirt as well. He replaced his colorless ripped smock with a lightly used grey workman’s tunic. He purchased an old water skin and a loaf of day-old bread, and stuffed it in a tattered old pack he had purchased from another street kid.
When morning came the next day, he stopped for a quick breakfast at the tavern, and set off for the Neutral Road. It wasn't long before he could see the structure of the tunnel in the distance, like a long stone worm stretching as far as the eye could see.
When he finally reached it, he was shocked at the sheer size of the road. The structure of the tunnel loomed high above any of the surrounding buildings. It looked old, but well maintained, its stone walls smooth and worn but lacking any cracks or fissures.
Tsaeris approached a large iron barred gate. It was open, and The City Watch guarded the entrance, hands always close to their swords. Tsaeris had to wait in line to get into the road. The watch asked each individual or group a few questions before letting them in. Some were turned away. Tsaeris was getting nervous. He hadn't been expecting to have to answer any questions. What if they turned him away?
It was finally his turn, and he stared up at a large man with a serious, no-nonsense expression. Tsaeris felt like he was in the presence of giants.
“Name,” the man asked.
“Tsaeris,” he replied. The man jotted something down on a roll of parchment.
“Surname.”
Tsaeris froze. Surname? He didn't even have a surname! He had to come up with something quick, before he looked suspicious. Think Tsaeris, think.
“Cel'Zenn.” He blurted out the first surname that popped into his head. It belonged to a strange man he had met at the Tavern once. The man had worn a leather cap, and a long leather coat. He was thin and nervous and had talked about things that meant nothing to Tsaeris. He spoke of his people, the people of the tundra. None of it had made any sense to Tsaeris. Odus had later told Tsaeris that the man had been an Elf. Tsaeris wasn't entirely sure what an elf was. He had heard talk of the city having recently made contact with a new intelligent race, but that was the limit of his expertise. As far as Tsaeris was concerned, the world was crowded enough already with men and dwarves.
The Watchman looked down at Tsaeris. He didn't seem to question the surname the boy had given, and made another note on his parchment. “Where are you going?”
“Market,” the boy responded. The man nodded. He took a minute to search the boy’s belongings, but having found nothing incriminating, he let the boy pass.
Tsaeris took a deep breath, and then walked under the large stone arch, and into the long winding tunnels of the Neutral Road.
Chapter Four
A Thousand Orbs of Light
It was afternoon when Tsaeris entered the tunnel, and light still streamed in through the iron bars of the windows in the ceiling. The small stretches of road between the windows were dim in comparison to the well-lit areas, and reminded Tsaeris of the circles of torchlight in The City streets at night. He wondered if these shadows were as dangerous.
He stopped in one of these pools of light to take a look at his map. It was poorly drawn, and in bad shape, but after a few moments he was able to get his bearings. He would take the left fork at the first intersection.
The Neutral Road was a gray, cold world. It was wider than any city street, and all surfaces were stone. He could see empty torch brackets lining the walls, and he was relieved to see that they were indeed spaced no more than a foot apart. He wondered when the Maintainer Guild would come and light the tunnels.
He walked for hours, and he passed hundreds of people. The road was heavily traveled, and never more than a half hour passed between sightings of The City Watch patrolling the tunnels, their hands never far from the long swords on their hips. He had passed several intersections already, and he found himself growing bored.
The tunnel began to darken, and Tsaeris became nervous. He had decided to travel to the next intersection before finding a room, not wanting to waste any travel time. He didn’t like the Neutral Road. It made him feel trapped. He had only been in the tunnel for a few hours, and he already missed the open air of the city streets.
Every so often he would pass a gate that lead into one of the districts. The last one he had passed was The Randal district, a middle class section of the city. The buildings he could see looked well kept, and the people were better dressed. The people looked far more prosperous than those from Darson, yet they had the same resigned and hopeless expressions on their face. Tsaeris found that startling. Apparently misery was part of their nature.
Tsaeris froze. A sound began to echo off of the tunnel walls. It sounded almost like a unified creaking echoing down the entire tunnel. Then he saw light.
Thousands of small orange lights appeared in the distance both ahead of him and behind him, floating above the tunnel floor. Some of the light seemed to come out of the walls themselves.
Tsaeris began to panic. What was happening? He wanted to run, but it was useless. No matter which way he ran, he would be running towards the lights. He had never seen anything like this, and his mind raced, trying to fit these strange floating lights into the mundane world he was familiar with. He stood frozen, waiting for the lights to reach him and...what? Kill him? Absorb his energy? What was he expecting to happen?
Some of the lights began to stick to the walls, while others continued to approach. As the light grew closer, Tsaeris had his answer, and he felt like a foolish little child.
The lights were torches, carried by the Maintainers guild. They weren’t coming out of the walls; they were coming into the tunnel from the district gates. The men wore leather jerkins, adorned with the symbol of the guild; a glistening spider web, on the chest and back of
the jerkins.
Once Tsaeris settled down, he watched as the Maintainers went about their task. It was an awe inspiring sight to watch as thousands of men set the torches in the brackets, only to disappear moments later. The whole spectacle lasted only ten minutes or so, and then tunnel was silent again. Tsaeris was awestruck.
Night fell. The torches did a great job of lighting the tunnel, and it was no darker than the interior of a tavern at night. Still, the dim orange light gave the roads a creepy feel, almost like he was walking into some mythical creature’s lair. The inn could not be much farther. He began to walk faster.
It was not long before he reached the stone structure of the inn. The intersection was a large open chamber and the inn sat in the center. It served as both a place to sleep, and as a support column for the ceiling above. Several horses were picketed outside, and he could hear laughter and cursing coming from within. He stepped through the entrance, and surveyed the interior.
The inside walls were lined with wood and it looked like a typical city inn, albeit more maintained than the ones found in Darson. Apparently an inn was an inn, be it in the city, or in a tunnel. A member of the Maintainers guild manned the bar.
The tables were filled with men drinking and smoking. Most of the men looked like your average working man, but several were armed with swords and axes and kept to themselves in small groups. The rest of the people seemed to avoid them.
Tsaeris took a seat on an empty stool at the bar, and ordered a plate of food and an ale. He inquired about renting a room.
‘We got a room. How many people are taking it?” The Barkeep asked.
“Just me,” Tsaeris replied
“Just you? You telling me that you’re traveling the Neutral Road by yourself? What about your parents?”
“I don’t have any parents. And yes, I am traveling by myself.”
One group of armed men stopped talking, and Tsaeris glanced over his shoulder and noticed that one of them was staring at him. Feeling uncomfortable, he turned away.
“How old are you, boy? Where are you headed?” The barkeep asked.
“I’m thirteen, and I’m going to Market.” Tsaeris cursed himself. What was he doing? Why had he answered that? In moments he had made it clear to anyone within ear shot that he was a young boy, alone, and stupid. Very stupid. He thought he might punch himself.
He glanced over his shoulder again. The man was still staring at him, as the other armed men at the table continued to talk amongst themselves.
“Alright lad. Well, I wish you luck. The room is a silver penny. Will you take it?”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah, here.” He paid the Barkeep.
Tsaeris stayed in the common room, drinking. The armed men left for their rooms not long after Tsaeris had arrived, and he was able to relax. Tsaeris found himself drinking more ale than was good for him. It was well priced, and much better than the swill he usually drank in Darson.
Tsaeris was starting to feel light headed, when a large group of dwarves entered the inn. They were loud, and in a mood to drink. Tsaeris decided that he best get to his room before the quick tempered dwarves drank themselves into a fighting mood.
Tsaeris entered his room, and removed his tattered leather boots, and his new tunic. The room was sparsely furnished, with only a hard looking mattress in one corner, and a small desk with a hard wooden chair. There were no bugs, though, which made it far superior to any inn room he had slept in before. He locked the latch on the door, and lay down in bed to sleep,
It was the middle of the night when he heard voices outside his door. The door rattled softly. Somebody was trying to get in.
He rolled silently out of bed, and crept to the door. He pressed his ears against it and could just make out some softly spoken words between two men.
“We should just kick it in. Surprise the boy. Was never good at picking locks anyway,” one voice said.
“And what if somebody hears it, and comes to his defense? That boy will be worth a few gold on the market, and nobody will miss him. It’s the perfect catch. Let’s not take any chances.”
Tsaeris backed away from the door, one word screaming in his mind. Slavers.
He had heard many stories of the Slavers. An illegal guild that traded in people. They were illegal in the city, but slavery was a viable trade in some of the outer kingdoms. He had never heard of Slavers in the neutral road before, but that didn’t mean anything. He knew very little about anything outside of his small circle of life.
He looked around desperately. The room was windowless, and the only way in or out was through the door. Tsaeris panicked. Freedom was the only thing he had and he didn’t want to lose it. He knew he had to think of something quick. He quietly put his boots and shirt on, and then searched through his backpack. It didn’t take him long to find his knife.
He stood in front of the door, holding the puny rusty knife in front of him like a sword, waiting for the men. It was only seconds before he realized how stupid of a plan that was, and he began trying to think of something else. Too late. He heard the loud bang of a foot hitting the door.
He pressed flat against the wall right beside the door, hoping that when the door burst open he would have a chance to slip out behind the men while they struggled to find him in the pitch black room.
Another foot slammed into the door, and it burst open, and a small amount of light from the hallways illuminated the room. Two armed men entered the room, and looked towards the bed. It was working; he was almost behind them now as they entered the room. Then the lead man looked over his shoulder at Tsaeris. The man grinned, and moved towards the boy. Tsaeris didn’t hesitate. As quick as he could, he stabbed the man hard in the throat with his little knife. The man cried out, and leaped backwards, holding his hand to his throat.
The knife was small, and did very little damage. But the neck was a vulnerable spot, and Tsaeris had hit the man right in the jugular. Blood began to ooze out from behind the man’s hand, and the injured man’s friend looked pale at the sight of all the blood.
Tsaeris didn’t waste any time. He ran as fast as he could, through the common room and out into the tunnel. He wasn’t sure if the man would die, or if he was just wounded. But he knew he had to get as far away from that inn as he could. There were more than just two slavers at the inn that night.
***
Hours passed by and Tsaeris was exhausted. He had only slept a few hours, and his head pounded from the ale he hadn’t had the chance to sleep off. There was no sign of the slavers, though, and Tsaeris began to feel confident that he had escaped them. Besides, he had passed another intersection, and they had no way of knowing which direction he was headed. He began to finally feel safe again.
The feeling was short lived. The sound of horse hooves echoed through the tunnel, and the slavers rode into view. One of them wore a bandage around his neck. Tsaeris felt like an idiot. Of course they could find him. He was headed to Market on the fastest route, and he had basically told the slavers where he was going the night before while he was talking to the barkeep. Stupid, Stupid Tsaeris.
He ran as fast as he could, but he was no match for a horse. The slavers caught up to him, and the man with the neck wound pounded Tsaeris to the floor with one heavy kick from horseback.
Tsaeris rolled onto his back and stared up at the large angry men. They dismounted, and the man with the wounded neck hauled Tsaeris to his feet, and then floored him again with a heavy punch to his jaw. Tsaeris rolled around in agony, and could not keep from crying.
“Enough!” One of the slavers yelled to the wounded man. “He won’t be worth as much if you injure him.”
The man grunted, then hauled Tsaeris to his feet again, and bound his hands behind his back. The man who had intervened walked up to Tsaeris, and examined his cheek.
“You’ll have to forgive my quiet friend. You may have damaged his voice with your little knife. You’re lucky that you’re worth something. He doesn’t like you very much.”
&nbs
p; He gestured to another slaver, and the man grabbed Tsaeris roughly by the collar of his shirt. He spent a few minutes roughly examining Tsaeris, checking his teeth, muscles, and looking for signs of illness or infection. Satisfied, he lifted the boy onto the saddle of his horse. He then mounted himself behind Tsaeris, keeping the boy held tightly between his beefy arms.
The Slaver behind Tsaeris spoke softly into his ear. “You’re a dumb little kid to be traveling the roads by yourself. Didn’t anybody ever tell you how dangerous that was?”
No, Tsaeris thought to himself, but he said nothing to the man.
Hours passed, and Tsaeris felt like his legs were broken from the constant jostling of the horse beneath him. He had never ridden a horse before, and his body was not accustomed to it. His jaw clicked whenever he opened his mouth, and a large bump had formed on his cheek.
He cried now and then as time dragged by, and he hated himself for it. Daytime came and went, and night followed again. The Maintainers paid no attention to the group of slavers when they removed the torches in the morning, and returned them at night. Tsaeris wanted to cry out for help, but the slavers promised him a swift death if he did. Several City Watch patrols had passed as well, but they continued on their way after a few coins exchanged hands.
The Slavers stopped for the night in the tunnel, not bothering with one of the intersection inns. They tied their horses in a circle, and began distributing food, water, and what Tsaeris thought was ale amongst them. Tsaeris was so happy to be off of the horse that he nearly wept with relief.
