Xair remained alone in the back of the wagon for nearly two hours before the slavers returned with a leather bag. The one with the black beard and scarred eye placed the bag down then began removing various supplies. A razorblade, a thick needle, a golden ring with engravings on it, a water-tight bag filled with some kind of liquid, a bar of pink soap, a large jar of water, and a pair of long sheers. He didn't know what those were for, but he could gather that it wasn't going to be pleasant.
"Unchain him then strip him and drag him over to the whipping post."
Every muscle in Xair's body tensed as he heard the slaver's order. Xair hadn't been whipped, actually whipped, since he was a little boy. Sure, he had been disciplined his entire life, but never flogged like that. It had mainly been to scare him into submission and the headmistress usually stopped once she broke the skin too many times. It was never to fully break him. After all, Ka'taylins were bred to be beautiful. Scars like those would never do for the boy who was to be sultan.
The slavers untied the chains then helped Xair out of the wagon. Once his feet hit the ground, his legs buckled under him from riding so long in that terribly uncomfortable position. He fell face-first to the ground without his hands to break his fall because they were still bound. The slavers laughed at him, calling him names. One of them unwrapped the heavy chains and discarded them.
Then the assault began. Three men ripped at his clothes and sliced through them until he was left with nothing. They grabbed Xair's wrists and dragged him across the grass to the square post in the middle of the plaza near the well. His legs were kicked out from under him so he was on his knees. Coarse rope was quickly and efficiently wrapped around his wrists and through the heavy brass rings attached to the post. Even if he had the strength left to fight them off, Xair was petrified, unable to move from fear.
"What's first, Tapper? We haven't prepared a breeder before." The thin slaver asked.
The black-bearded one twisted his giant fist in Xair's white hair and yanked his head back. "Tag him. Left ear like the other males. I'll hold him still."
Xair's breathing grew rapid as he strained against the hand holding him by his hair. The flash of the needle in the corner of his eye only made things worse. He would have kicked at his attackers to get them away, but someone was standing on his legs to prevent that from happening. He had no choice but to clench his eyes closed and let it happen. He grunted as the needle punctured his skin. There was a pop as the cartilage was pierced and followed by the heavy golden identification ring. More than the pain of the piercing was the pain of acknowledging his fate. Xair Korvin was now a slave.
"Look at his mop of hair. He looks like a woman. Cut it off, will you? Make it short."
Xair leaned against the whipping post as his white locks fell around him and came to a rest in the dew-covered grass under his bruised knees. He felt humiliated, being changed and handled like a possession by these Northerners who had no idea of the customs of his people. The way he wore his hair, shoulder-length and straight, was the way all the journeyman druids wore their hair and had for so many years. Now it was gone.
He didn't have a chance to fully come to terms with his haircut before six pairs of hands began prodding him, rubbing him with soap, and dragging the razorblade across every inch of his body. He nearly screamed when those hands became even more invasive with their cleaning. Never in his wildest nightmares had Xair ever imagined he would be treated like this, like . . . like an animal. The slavers pried his mouth open and scrubbed his teeth with the bitter soap then proceeded to hold his mouth tightly shut and pinched his nose until he was forced to swallow the burning suds. When the hands let him go, he coughed and spit, but the fiery taste would not leave his throat. Xair cried out as ice cold water was tossed over him, drenching him and washing away most of the painful soap.
Tapper walked around in front of him and leaned over to place his face directly in front of Xair's. "Did I tell you to scream, rune-skin?" He motioned to the others. "Ten lashes for screaming. If he screams again, add another ten each time. Then I want him left here until the next nightfall. The heat of the day should be enough to weaken him fully. Whip him every hour until he complies to the standard orders. Run him through the tests. No food, no water, no clothing. I want him broken, not simply submissive like the other males. This one is special. Do this, then once he's compliant, we will continue."
Chapter 12
Chained and tethered in the stable like an animal, Xair stayed there on his side on the dusty straw, unable to sleep. After the day of being exposed to the heat and the sun without food, water, or clothing, he was beyond exhausted. But the second forced cleaning after the brutal whipping every hour had weakened his body. The slavers had applied generous amounts of soothing salve to the welts and cuts that crossed his back, buttocks, and thighs, but the raw skin still bled. The aching from being tied to the whipping post on his knees for an entire day kept him awake in groaning misery. He stared up at the starry sky through the gaps between the slats of the shoddily-constructed building. The night was quiet, the only sound the chirping of crickets in the nearby desert. The children and babies in other stalls in the stable had silenced hours before. That in itself made Xair sick to think of what it meant. What could those slavers have done to make the infants stay that quiet for so long? On second thought, he truly didn't want to know.
A middle-aged slaver with smooth features and short shaved brown hair entered the stable and made his way straight towards the back stall where Xair was recovering. He slid a small pack off of his shoulder then knelt down in the blood-streaked straw. He watched Xair carefully as he unlocked the chains and removed them. With delicate hands, he reached into his pack and retrieved a leather water-bag then held it above Xair's mouth. "Drink."
Xair groaned in pain as he pushed himself up on his elbows. His raw back stung and burned, but he desperately needed to cure his severe dehydration. He sighed as the cool water trickled onto his parched lips and he drank greedily, not caring if the slaver would try to stop him. Once the bag was completely empty, Xair moved to his knees in front of the slaver. The last thing he wanted was to still be seen as being challenging or uncooperative. At that point, he would have done anything to not be tied to whipping post again.
The slaver stood up then moved around behind Xair where he gently traced the raised welts and cuts that were oily with salve and caked with dried blood. "What is your name?"
His voice was parched and raspy as he managed to speak. "Xair. Xair Korvin."
"How do you feel, Xair Korvin?"
Xair stared down at the dusty floor where ants crawled around the corners and pieces of straw scattered in the breeze from the open doors. "Weak, sir."
"Tapper and the others did quite a job on you. I've brought you some clothes."
Xair glanced over to see the garments laid out on the straw. Knee-length baggy brown pants with laces up the sides, a sleeveless white tunic that kept the shoulders and chest exposed, and a pair of leather sandals with straps that wound up the leg to the knee.
"Go ahead and dress yourself."
Too exhausted and aching to care about being watched by another man, Xair grunted as he slowly dressed himself. Everything fit except for when he came to the sandals. They were much larger than his feet.
The slaver shook his head then reached over to another pack that was hanging on a post nearby. He fished out a different pair of sandals that were the same as the others, but much smaller and with silver stitching along the straps. "Your feet are tiny. Here. Put these on. They're female sandals, but it's all we have that will fit you."
It was all Xair could do to lace the straps of the sandals around his calves. At one point, even the slaver reached out and helped him tie them. The clothes weren't the best ones he had ever worn, but they were comfortable enough and breathable. He was thankful for any clothes after all day without them.
"Spin around and let me get a good look at you." The slaver chuckled as he watched him. "Th
ere's not an ounce of fat on you, is there?"
"I guess not, sir."
The slaver steadily placed his hand on Xair's shoulder. "Look at me."
Xair looked up at the man's deep brown eyes.
He started walking away. "You stay here while I go figure out your permanent housing. I am trusting you, Xair. Do not betray that trust. Remember something. I am not Tapper. You're a slave here, but not an animal. I do not agree with his methods, but I will do what I have to do in order to keep this operation under control. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir."
The slaver stopped then turned back around with something resembling a slight smile on his lips. "Call me Master Kyle."
Xair bowed his head to project his complete humility, but inside he was sharing in that smile. "Yes, Master Kyle."
After Kyle left the stable, Xair was too on edge with anxiousness to sit there any longer. He had to clear his mind and try to sort out what was happening. While he was truly weak and exhausted from pain and being in the sun, he decided to walk around a bit. Xair held onto the sides of the numerous empty stalls as he limped down the middle of the stable. Some of them housed female slaves who were sleeping, sometimes in each other's arms for comfort. He wasn't going to bother them or wake them from their much-needed sleep.
"Xair?"
Xair stopped in the middle of the stable when he heard the soft female voice call his name to his right. He looked over at the centaur with the long blue hair. Chains were secured around her hooves. At first, he smiled. But then the realization swept over him that this was not a good thing to find. "Naomi? I didn't know they got you too."
She tossed her head back, motioning to her bandaged back leg. "I stepped in one of their traps in the forest."
"Are you injured terribly?"
"Not bad. I'm fine." Naomi looked him over. "You look a bit worse for wear, though. You're so thin."
Xair crossed his arms on his chest. "Food isn't exactly something these slavers give out willingly. We have to get out of here."
"I know, but I'm tethered tightly and the gate is locked. I've been trying to pick the lock all day, but no luck. You'd better get back in your stall before they come back and find you outside. Do you know what your tasks will be around here?"
Even the taste of the words on his tongue made him shiver in disgust. "Breeder."
"Really?"
"Yes. They singled me out from the males at the camp specifically for this. They shot the others for being too sickly or injured, or to avoid inciting riots. Today, I've already gone through their very . . . intense grooming. I have never felt so clean both outside and inside. It was uncomfortable and humiliating. They were very, very thorough. They left me tied to the whipping post all day without food or water or clothes. What about you?"
Naomi scoffed. "I'm half horse. What do you think I'm going to be doing? They don't see my human half. I'm cattle to them. I will spend the remainder of my life pulling plows in the fields. But I'm more concerned about you."
"Don't be. I'll be fine. I'm stronger than people give me credit for. No, the person I'm worried about is Ulon, my brother. Have you seen him? Is he in here? He's tiny, pure, six years old, with the biggest purple eyes you've ever seen."
Naomi averted her eyes and stayed silent.
"Naomi, what is it?" Xair asked, growing more concerned. "If something happened to Ulon, please tell me. No matter how bad it is, I need to know. Please."
"He fought them. He kicked and screamed as loud as he could. That boy was brave. He attacked one of the slavers who was trying to harm a young woman. Ulon . . . Ulon was hit in the head by the butt of a rifle. Once he was unconscious, the slaver dragged him off. I haven't seen him since."
"I see. Well, if you see or hear anything . . . anything at all, let me know. He needed me to protect him, but I couldn't. I failed. I-"
She reached out and grabbed his arm. "It's not your fault, Xair. None of this is your fault."
"But my people have always been the ones with the power. We had slaves. I had my own slaves. But we never even threatened to treat them like this. We valued them and their help. We gave our slaves their own houses. We invited them to dine with us on occasion. We played with their children and taught them things. I even had one of the stable boys thank me for being his friend. We never whipped them or cursed them. I don't know what this is, but it is not the way slaves are meant to be treated. They're supposed to be the helpmates, the confidants, the partners of their masters. In Ka'tayl, people would volunteer and pledge their lives to a master in order to be a slave. Slaves wore fine clothes, nearly as nice as their masters. They ate good food and were given treats and money that they could spend for themselves. I didn't realize that this kind of barbarity still existed and paraded around in its guise of slavery."
"You did not approve of Jaylen being Kato's slave?"
Xair shook his head. "You and I both know that Jaylen liked it that way. That wasn't even really slavery of any kind. Different cultures have varying views on the matter. But this, what we are being put through . . . this is not slavery. This is torture and a slow death. Some more slowly than others."
"In The Rift, there is slavery. It is rampant, actually. Centaurs are usually hunted for meat or to be used as slaves in the fields. I'm no stranger to it."
"You don't have to tell me this."
Naomi continued. "I used to be married to a very strong and handsome centaur. His name was Vidrick. We were born into slavery to some water nymphs who had taken control of a river basin. They were kind enough, only making us do things that they couldn't do themselves. We were around the same age and eventually fell in love. The water nymphs allowed us to get married. Then I gave birth to my little filly. Ana. She was beautiful. Everything was fine until things changed, like they are prone to doing in The Rift. Somehow, a group of elves had entered The Rift and began clearing the land at an alarming rate. They stormed the river basin one night and slaughtered the water nymphs. Vidrick tried to stop them, but the elves . . . they stabbed him in his haunches which stopped him. As punishment for his behavior, he was forced to watch Ana be cut into pieces while she was still alive. I had to watch as well. Then I watched as they did the same thing to Vidrick. My life ended there. The elves were distracted for a brief second, so I ran."
"I'm so sorry, Naomi. I will find a way to get you out of here. I swear it."
"Do not swear things you have no intention of fulfilling, Xair Korvin. I can read minds on occasion, remember? Your words are hollow, your promises steeped in deceit. You know there is nothing you can do for me. There's nothing you can do for yourself either." Naomi looked up as the stable doors once again swung open. "Looks like your master is here."
Kyle sauntered inside with a bronze key hanging from a cord around his neck. "Xair? Ah. There you are. Thank you for waiting and being patient."
Xair stared down at the floor.
"Follow me. Your house is prepared."
A house? Completely in shock and bewilderment, Xair slowly hobbled along behind the slaver who was intentionally taking his time in order to not cause Xair too much distress. They crossed the field that surrounded the small town-like group of homes and buildings then proceeded through the square. Xair's stomach sank as he passed the whipping post where another Ka'taylin man was tethered and being whipped. The man's cries for mercy only made the slavers chuckle and hit him harder.
"Don't watch, Xair. Just stay close and follow me." Kyle continued across the plaza then down a side path to a small wooded area with a grassy clearing. Underneath the pine trees was a small grey-walled house with a single window and a wooden deck. Kyle spread out his arms. "I secured this for you with my own money. Tapper refused at first, but we played some cards and I won the right to do this for you. I hope you like it. Well, go on in and check it out. It's nothing spectacular, but it's a hell of a lot better than the slave stables."
Xair jumped when the key was pressed firmly into his hand. He was being given a key?
Then it wasn't some devious lie or cruel trick? He waited for a few seconds just in case he was going to be slapped for even thinking this was real. When no punishment came, Xair cautiously lifted the key to the lock then unlocked it and swung the door open.
"Go on, Xair. I will get you some light."
Xair stepped inside the musty-smelling one bedroom house. His sandals slapped quietly on the wooden floors, but he could not see much else aside from the dim light that entered in through the dusty windowpane on the far wall.
"Something is on your mind. I see it in your eyes. You may speak, Xair. I am not Tapper."
Xair's heart fluttered in anxiety and fear, but he held his hands together to control his nervousness. "Master Kyle, why would you do this for me? I'm only a slave."
Kyle slowly walked around the room, lighting candles as he went. "Because I know who you are, Xair. E'tayl amona kilna orm ula."
Xair instantly turned to the slaver and stared at him. How did this Northerner know any of his language?
"I pronounced that correctly, did I not?"
Xair could only nod his head in response.
"Then you know what it means?"
"Yes, sir. Friends can light the darkness."
"Good. Then just remember that."
Xair sat down on the straw-filled bed that was much more comfortable than what he had first imagined. "Sir?"
"What is it, Xair?"
"How do you know Ka'taylin?"
Kyle gave a warm smile as he opened one of the cabinets then tossed a bundle of blankets onto the bed. "This house used to belong to another slave under my watch before he was sold by Tapper to a Wolfekin inquisitor. If I'm not mistaken, he was a relative of yours. His name was Dayxi Nendo. He taught me some Ka'taylin and I made sure he had enough food. I wasn't as influential around here back then, but I did what I could. I like to think that he viewed me as a friend, or as much of a friend as I could be."
Angel of Darkness Books 6-10 Page 35
