by JD Franx
“Who?” Max wondered.
“Shh! Let me listen,” Ember whispered.
The group watched as Chief Vattis verbally granted entrance to his camp. To Ember’s and everyone else’s surprise, Chief Karlag Kordanu strode into the camp just as he did earlier in the day, but this time he wasn’t with his own men.
Ember listened closely, relaying the information to the others. Three men had arrived in the Kordanu camp two hours before. It was clear by their easy banter that Chief Karlag had been dealing with Sythrnax’s men for many years. Grodin was likely responsible for buying slaves the Kordanu tribe no longer wanted or had uses for.
When Sythrnax’s men were introduced to the Chief of the Taktala tribe, Vattis offered to show them his new acquisition of slaves.
“They’re coming our way, Giddeon,” Max pointed out.
Trapped in the cage with nowhere to hide, Grodin recognized Giddeon, Saleece, and Kasik right away. “Well, Chief,” he sneered. “It looks like you have the prized slaves of tomorrow’s auction.” He bowed to both tribal chiefs. “We would be honoured to attend. I promise you, we’ll pay for these. We’ll pay whatever you want.” Grodin laughed and then turned to walk away, howling with glee at the prospect of the next day’s sale.
Ember recognized the little man as the one who was with the strange eyed creature who had taken Kael months earlier.
The only think that kept her secret was the fact she said so first. “That’s the little bastard who helped take Kael,” she said in a normal voice. Both Kasik and Max looked at her when she spoke. Seconds after she said it, she exploded off the ground, cursing the whole way, but Kasik and Max were already moving.
“You god-damned son of a—” she screeched, just as Kasik wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back to the ground. She bit, kicked, and fought. She did not care what happened to her. Never had she wanted to hurt someone so badly. Max threw himself on top of her, clamping his hand over her mouth and whispering in her ear, his voice full of anger.
“Stop, Ember! You can’t let them know you’re Kael’s wife. For fuck’s sake, they will take you and use you against him.”
“Think, girl, now. Is that you want?” Kasik breathed in her other ear as he held her close.
“You know full well that Kael would do whatever they want in order to keep you safe. Now, stop... Please.” Max said the last word slowly and calmly, clearly hoping to get through to her. Closing her eyes, she nodded and he slowly removed his hand.
“All right,” she snapped. “All right.” They let her go as she rolled over, Yrlissa held her, offering her support, but Ember stared after Grodin. The little man and the tribe’s chiefs had been too far away to notice.
Max looked at Giddeon. Both sighed with relief.
The tribesman returned just after dawn the next morning to collect them all for the sale. Ember and Yrlissa were escorted to Chief Vattis’ daughter while the others were taken to a platform that had been built just for the occasion. Princess Corleya and Lady Alia were already there; the tribe must have decided to sell them as well. It was not a good sign. The bartering lasted four hours, with Princess Corleya and her lady being traded to a single warrior from the Kordanu tribe for the price of a single horse. From what Giddeon and Max had seen from the rest of the trades and the bartering, there was at least some hope for the two young women. A good horse normally seemed to purchase at least eight slaves their age. It weighed heavily on Giddeon that he could do nothing to change their situation. The night before, he had struggled for hours, but was still several days from being able to work around the Poghana collar that silenced his magic, if he could ever get past it.
Giddeon, Saleece, Kasik, and Max had all been held back until the end of the sale. They were brought up on the platform and forced to stand at the front, facing the crowd that consisted of people from both villages. The bartering itself was only a token gesture for interested parties from either tribe, as no one from the two tribes could afford to outbid Grodin. The little man had already made sure of his winning bids with the gifts he had offered both chiefs the night before. The crowd let out a roar of disapproval when the last tribesman backed out of the running, but no tempers were lost and no trouble came of it.
Grodin and his two men climbed the stairs of the auction platform, while the priestess removed the Pogahna collars from Giddeon and Saleece.
Grodin approached and gave them a dead serious warning. “The four tribesmen behind you have blowguns loaded with poison darts, not the sleep darts you must have felt when you were captured. If you or your daughter open your mouths to cast a single spell, they have orders to kill you all, do you understand?” he asked. Not willing to take any chances, Giddeon merely nodded.
“Very good, ArchWizard. You learn fast. You’ll be coming with me right now. Master Sythrnax will have many questions for you all,” he assured them.
Max was not afraid to speak, clearly figuring he was not a spell-casting risk.
Taking a step forward, he asked, “I recognize you, little man. Where’s Kael, and what have you done with him? Answer me now!” he demanded. Grodin raised his hands to stop the guards who had moved forward to prevent Max from harming the man almost three feet shorter than him.
“You must be the fearsome warrior who came through the dimensional bridge with Kael. I’ve heard some things about you, big man. Your prowess in battle is getting around. As for your question, the last time I had the pleasure of watching your friend cough blood from his lungs was almost a month past. I can promise you, mighty warrior, that he wishes you were at his side, every minute of his very long suffering day. I’m sure of that.” Max tried to get to Grodin, but with his hands and feet tied together, the guards quickly dropped him on his face.
Grodin bent over and whispered into his ear. “I can tell you, Max, with no doubt in my mind what so ever, that your friend’s mind will have broken long ago. Even if they had not died off over ten thousand years ago, the Fae would be of little help to his scrambled brains by now.” He laughed hard. Standing, he kicked Max in the face.
The distraction was exactly what Giddeon had been waiting for, knowing that the little man’s overconfidence would cause him to make a mistake. Giddeon only had one offensive spell he could cast without speaking, an ancient gift passed down by other ArchWizards. The spell would drain his physical strength, but should give them a chance at escape. He pushed his hands to the side as frost began to form around them. Curling like white serpents, the frost spell grew and spread, seconds from release.
The others watched helpless as the spell sputtered and died. Giddeon fell to his knees as if his legs had vanished into thin air. Wincing as raw agony arced through his body, Giddeon’s senses became overwhelmed by suffering. For what felt like hours, he shook before regaining part of his senses and the pain lessened. In less than an instant, he realized that his magic was not just silenced, or untouchable, but completely gone. Real fear passed through him like wind through the forest trees as he touched the device embedded in his throat.
Grodin howled in a fit of laughter as Giddeon realized he had been baited into using his power for the sole purpose of the demonstration he just received. He heard his daughter cry out and turned in time to see her fall, an identical collar wrapped around her neck. Four long spikes attached to the collar were buried deep in the flesh of her neck and he guessed that his was the same. Grodin stopped laughing long enough to give a brief explanation.
“Damn! I love those fucking collars, Giddeon. Like neutering a young steer. What do you think of it? Ah, don’t worry, you can save your breath. I was told the first few hours are horrible for any being that can touch the power of the earth. I will tell you though, when I snapped one of those collars around Kael’s neck, your son convulsed like a brained pig during slaughter, even though he refused to use any magic against us at the time. Instead he chose to stand toe-to-toe with Sythrnax, fighting with blades. Your son has more courage than you could muster in your whole patheti
c life.”
“What in Perdition’s hells is this thing?” Giddeon struggled to ask.
Grodin laughed again. “It’s called a Gyhhura collar, ArchWizard. Ancient magic. A type you never even knew existed, and while you wear it, you are as mortal and weak as the rest of us born without the gift from Inara.”
“Impossible...” Giddeon coughed in agony.
“Tell that to the collar that has cut you off from your magic, fool,” Grodin snorted, as spit sprayed in Giddeon’s face.
“All right, boys,” he said to his men. “Pack them up. The good Chief Vattis Taktala has offered twenty-two of his men to help escort our new prisoners out of this forest. You’re lucky, Giddeon. Our ships were destroyed in the storm two nights ago. Now we’ll return on horseback. It will save you all weeks of torture at the hands of the Dead Sisters, but you’ll have to wait those weeks before you can see your son. I’ll settle our payment to the chiefs. We leave in an hour. The sooner we have some answers for Sythrnax, the better.”
He smiled, and walked away, leaving his men and the tribe’s warriors to prepare the prisoners for departure.
The Taktala tribe left the area with their remaining warriors the moment the slave auction came to an end. Two of their elders were chosen as envoys and went with the Kordanu as part of the future war council. The small group of their fighters would escort Grodin and his prisoners to the forest edge and then return. Bala Takma was in charge of the warriors sent on the escort mission, his second in command would remain in charge of protecting the tribe. With the Kordanu moving south, there would be no immediate threat to the rest of the tribe. The Taktala’s minimal camp set-up paid off. They disappeared into the forest within the hour.
The chief’s daughter refused to put Ember and Yrlissa up for sale, but with the others being taken by the people who had captured Kael, every ounce of Ember’s being wished she was with them. She was almost positive, though, that Kael had escaped, having felt his closeness in the forest during her dream spell the previous afternoon.
The tribe headed north and their horses covered a good distance in a short amount of time. The new mounts from the slave auction allowed for more of the heavy supplies to be carried and made for faster travel. The further they were separated from the rest of their companions, the bleaker Ember and Yrlissa’s situation became. The Kordanu tribe left after the remaining debts owed to them had been paid. Princess Corleya and Lady Alia, with no choice in the matter, went with. Their future as much in question as the others’.
Grodin and the members of the Taktala tribe who joined him and his men were the last to leave the sight of the Kordanu camp. They travelled north heading for Dasal, where Grodin told them more of their group might be, and failing that, they could hire a ship to take them back to the hidden harbour at Arkum Zul. They were roughly ten days from Dasal by horseback. A ship from the small port city would have them at the hidden harbour a day and a half later. If they were forced to travel the rest of the way on foot it would add at least another ten days, likely more with the prisoners in tow.
Grodin called for the group to set up camp for the night in a small valley north of a fast-moving creek. The sun had not yet dropped below the tree line—farther south the days were longer. The Taktala escorts set up the tents in a U-shape within the curve of the steepest side of the valley wall for protection against enemies and the weather. The prisoners’ tent was positioned at the forward part of the camp, close to where Grodin instructed his men to build a rack that would hold the prisoners for questioning. With two guards posted on an outer perimeter, the short, but powerful man told his men to secure Max to the rack first.
“Anything you would like to ask or volunteer before I begin my questions, big man?” Grodin asked.
“You’re wasting your time, grub. I’ve been under the hot blades of our world’s most radical, religious extremists. I won’t tell you anything, but you can tell me where Kael is, little worm, so when we escape from you I know where to go,” he demanded, and flashed a smile.
Sythrnax’s right hand man chuckled as he shook his head. “You are persistent, I will give you that. If Kael is still alive, he’s being tortured by the worst of the Dead Sisters, Max. I promise you’ll see him when we arrive, or what’s left of him anyway,” Grodin shivered. “You cannot imagine what those psychotic bitches were doing to him the last time I saw him. Damn near shit myself just watching. I know you’re as tough as they get, Max. We’re not as dumb as the people you travel with.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Max demanded, as he tugged against his restraints.
Leaning in close, Grodin whispered into his ear. “Master Sythrnax has a theory about you, Max, perhaps we should test that theory. What do you say?”
“You can test whatever theory you so desire, ya little shit. You’ll find that I bleed like anyone else,” he said.
“Then let us begin.”
Grodin spent the next hour interrogating Max about Kael. He asked about his childhood, his past, his family, and even the women he had loved or slept with. It was clear that he was trying to find something to use against his closest friend. If Kael was still being tortured, it meant he refused to give in to whatever it was they wanted. The very least Max could do for Kael was keep his secrets. There was only one thing on this plane that could be used against Kael—Ember.
When Max refused to answer a question, he was lashed with a braided leather bullwhip covered in sap from a plant called devilweed. The whip was then rolled in rock salt. It took an hour and twenty-two lashes before Max finally lost consciousness and Grodin’s men dragged him to the tent. The welts raised by the whip quickly caused ugly fluid-filled blisters from the sap as it burned its way into Max’s flesh.
After double-checking that Max was secured inside the tent with leather straps tied to stakes driven deep into the earth, Grodin had his men bring Giddeon out next.
The ArchWizard was already in bad shape from the effects of the Gyhhura collar, but Grodin smiled with glee as they dragged him from the tent and tied him to the rack.
Chapter Five
“How many people do you know who have walked away from the scene of an accident without helping? Or turned a blind eye to a person in need? The world that I come from is a selfish world. More people on Earth will ignore a cry for help or pretend that they didn’t see something bad happen than there are those who will answer that cry or see the bad that happened. I have seen it first hand, and worse I’ve been in the middle of it, needing someone’s help only to watch them walk away, more concerned about their daily goings-on than helping their fellow man. I can’t do that. I’ve never been able to. What hope does humanity have if callousness and selfish behaviour continue? It doesn’t bode well for us as a species.
It matters little to me now, I guess, because I’m no longer there. I’m in Talohna, a realm in a dimension far different than ours, and yet, I still see the same behaviour here. I guess the problem isn’t with the world or the with dimension. It’s with us, the human race. Hopefully, someday, mankind will learn that our only salvation lies in the co-operative, open hands of each other, and not in the selfish, closed fist of our own needs.”
Kael Symes’ journal entry
Found on the northern shore of Salzara,
just west of Forja Vehlo, Date unknown
GRODIN’S CAMP, NORTHERN WILDLANDS
Kael knew from his own past experience that Giddeon would not last long before the pain would drop the blackness over his mind in order to protect his body. He needed the ArchWizard conscious so he would be in good enough condition to tell Kael where Ember and Max were. Kael’s thoughts rolled around in his head while he tried to decide on the fastest and safest way to help Giddeon.
“Stay here, Kyah, and don’t move. I’ll deal with the sentries and be back,” he finally said, turning to leave.
“Be careful,” Kyah said. He glanced back and nodded.
The first sentry was just up the hill from where they were h
iding, and in minutes Kael was only five feet behind him. The guard was vigilant, never letting his sight linger in any one direction long enough for Kael to close the last five feet. Giddeon’s first scream of intense agony gave him the chance he needed as the tribal warrior turned away from him and looked down into the valley to watch.
With his feet silenced, not so much as a whisper escaped to warn the guard of Kael’s approach as he quickly crept up behind the tribesman. Kael drew his right Vai’Karth, the scythe-like blade immediately dulled its surface so it did not reflect the sun’s rays. He smiled—the weapons never ceased to amaze him. It was like they had a mind of their own at times. A quick step and the blade would crumple the guard like a rag doll leaving him unconscious, but a sudden urge to kill the man nearly overwhelmed him. Shaking his head, he sheathed the blade.
Approaching the man quietly, Kael grabbed the guard in a choke hold and pulled him backwards. The man fought, hard. Squeezing the artery in the warrior’s neck harder, he realized the man was older and much stronger as they rolled into some heavy bushes. Pure instinct took over, pushing aside his fear, and Kael slapped his free hand to the man’s face. A puff of black magic exploded from his hand, shooting up the tribesman’s nose and into his mouth as he quickly succumbed to unconsciousness. Bending over to check and make sure he hadn’t killed the man, Kael sighed a breath of relief feeling a strong pulse throb under his finger.
After checking to make sure that the other guard had not moved, Kael left the warrior hidden inside the bushes and rounded the top of the hill, coming at the second savage from his left side.
Lazier than the first, this one leaned against a large tree, blocking the view of Kael’s approach from the guard’s own left hand side. Creeping up from the blind side and around the tree, Kael stood and wrapped his left arm around the man’s throat and pulled him backwards across his left knee. With his left hand locked inside his right elbow, the choke-hold was tight. The tribal warrior fought desperately to break free, igniting Kael’s insane anger. He had to force himself to resist the urge to snap the man’s neck. Instead, he opened his right hand and slid it down over the warrior’s face. A burst of black smoke surrounded the man’s face, just like the first. He was unconscious immediately.
