The Titan's Tome

by M. B. Schroeder

  “Aye, ma’am.”

  Lanis ordered the sailors to unbind his mistress’s new acquisitions and sent them out the gate to the street. They left behind Kharick and Madger’s packs, but Lanis didn’t look in the mood to let any of the new slaves have access to their belongings. He circled them, appraising the lot before stopping in front of the four of them.

  “You three will bed here,” Lanis said and gestured to where the other men were relaxing in the shade of their crude barracks. “You,” he gestured at Madger, “follow me.”

  Madger looked to Kharick for guidance, she didn’t want to be taken away, but she wasn’t sure what would happen if she fought to stay. The dwarf was her only anchor in the city that stretched as far as she could see.

  Lanis noticed her hesitation, “Unless you want to try and keep those seven off you. You would be the only girl with them, and some of them haven’t been with one in several years. I doubt they’d care how much a freak you are. They’ll fuck you bloody.”

  Kharick gave her a quick gesture to follow Lanis and she nodded with a nervous swallow. He grimaced and looked away, he’d tried to show those children he knew their fear and suffering, and he hadn’t been able to help them. He couldn’t bring himself to offer Madger more of that false hope.

  “If I see these new ones roughed up, I’ll take it out of all of your hides,” Lanis said.

  Madger followed Lanis through the rear gate, having to duck slightly through the doorway. A new world opened up on the other side of the gate, the walls were hidden behind vines and trees, and the garden burst forth from the ground as though it were planted in the midst of a rainforest. It was like a different world from the oppressive arid heat on the other side of the garden wall. She gaped at the dazzling flowers, the petals a rainbow of colors she’d never seen before. Trees that dwarfed her in height, were home to a collection of trilling birds, their feathers as flamboyant as the flowers below them. Other trees were shorter and bowed under the weight of fruit, many of which Madger was unfamiliar with.

  The garden path was made of crushed white stone that reflected the light of the sun as though it was snow. The air was scented heavily with fragrances from the flowers and bees buzzed near them. Madger tried to take in everything around her, her eyes darting to different plants and animals as she followed Lanis. He didn’t mind her looking around, so long as she didn’t fall behind.

  She wondered if any of the men from her clan had ever seen anything like it, because she was certain none of them had mentioned a ship or the ocean before. As they rounded some tall bushes, a clear stream came into view, the waters bubbling and dancing across the rocks and ending in a large pool, partially covered with water lilies and fish whose scales glittered like gold when the sunlight struck them.

  The beginning of the stream was beyond sight, the plants and twisting paths covered its origin. A cage was on the far side of the pond, nestled on a bed of ivy that had partially grown up the sides of the iron grating. Several chains were amongst the ivy and she wasn’t sure how or if they were anchored. She wasn’t surprised when Lanis directed her toward the cage.

  “Don’t resist,” Lanis ordered. He locked the chains around her ankles and wrists, enough slack that she could easily move, but keep her from leaving the small patch of ivy. “Get in.”

  Madger regarded the cage coldly, it was just tall enough for her to stand upright, and not large enough for her to stretch out to sleep. Now wasn’t the time to resist. She stepped inside her new prison. The door closed behind her with a little squeak of protesting hinges, and Lanis locked it.

  “Someone will feed you in the morning.”

  Chapter 12

  310 Br. spring

  “The slave trade is kept to the Southern Continent. The northern kingdoms have a standing pact between them that no taking of slaves or selling of them may take place within or between their lands. The treaty was signed to lessen post-war conflicts over the enslavement of each country’s peoples during wartimes.”

  -A dissertation of the economy of the southern continent

  K harick hardly slept the first night. Every creak of a cot, every grunt from one of the other men had him tense and searching for a weapon.

  In the morning, two iron-collared slaves brought out trays of food. A lavish feast compared to what Kharick had gotten on the slave ship, but he waited until the other slaves took their choices. There were plenty of meats, fried eggs, and breads to choose from, they couldn’t take it all. Talas wanted her slaves well-fed. He corrected that thought, her gladiators. He’d heard of the fighting arenas in the south, it wasn’t hard to figure out what he was here for.

  One of the men from Pero was the blacksmith’s apprentice. A tall brute of a young man made thin and frightened during the voyage. The other Kharick didn’t recognize, he figured he was likely from the richer area of Pero, since he had been fit enough to survive the trip without becoming a walking skeleton like everyone else. Neither one was willing to talk to him, and he was fine with that. He’d failed the children already; he didn’t want these men to think he could do anything for them.

  The slaves returned and cleared the morning meal. The seven gladiators eyed the newcomers with disdain, but said little, even amongst themselves. Lanis entered from the garden gate, and the seven lined up just outside the roofed barracks. Kharick and the two other men followed their example.

  “For you three new ones, I am Mistress Talas’s gladiator master. You will call me Master, or Master Lanis. Every day we will train. And when I think you will earn the Mistress prizes from the arena, I will send you to fight. If you win, you will be rewarded. Some wine, maybe a girl.”

  Two of the veterans smiled broadly, one was missing two teeth, and a third was cracked in half.

  “If you lose and can be saved, you might be worth the time and effort for us to do so.” Lanis turned from them and unlocked a locker along the wall. He took out two staffs and a cudgel. He gave the wooden cudgel to Kharick, it was a little too large, but it suited him better than the staffs he gave to the two Pero men. “Let’s see what you three can do.”

  Hesitantly, the two emaciated men faced each other and tentatively began swinging the staffs. Kharick walked down the line of veterans and stopped in front of the hulking orc who rivaled Madger in height. If he was going to fight, he was going to assert the pecking order with it. The orc laughed at him and turned to the dark elf at his side with an amused look.

  Lanis joined in the laughter. “Go on then.”

  The orc took a step toward Kharick, reaching down toward him. Kharick moved in closer to the orc, avoiding his hands. The orc tried to correct his overreach, he hadn’t expected Kharick to move in closer. He was used to his reach giving him an advantage. Kharick swung the cudgel into the side of his knee. The orc dropped with a howl. He threw the cudgel aside, just to make the point clear, and quickly circled around to the head of the orc. He lunged, landing a punch on the orcs jaw and snapping his head back against the hard earth. Kharick hit him twice more, the second knocked the orc out, and on the third strike, the orc’s lower tusk snapped.

  Kharick grabbed the broken tooth with his bloodied hand. Punching orcs in the face was risky with their thick jaws and twin tusks. His fist hurt enough that he wondered if he cracked any bones, but he wasn’t going to show his discomfort. He walked to Lanis and presented his prize.

  None of the other veterans had moved, they were too disciplined for that, but the two men from Pero had stopped their sparring and stared. Lanis laughed again. “All right then, dwarf. It might be worth it to give your weapons back when it’s time for you to fight.”

  ***

  Madger noted the iron-collared slave didn’t look at her when she came to pick up the platter of food just outside her cage. She couldn’t hear much over the sound of the little stream that babbled nearby. The smells of the garden, pleasant at first, were now overwhelmingly sweet a day later. She braced her back against the cage and put her foot against the door and pus
hed. Nothing happened, not that she had expected it to.

  “A mountain giant?”

  Madger went still at the unfamiliar voice.

  “Just wait till you see her!” Talas said as she rounded the corner around some thick flowering bushes. She wore a gauzy dress, royal blue, with gold metal bangles on her wrists and ankles. Her hair was spun up atop her head with jewels and little bells that chimed with each step.

  A man followed her, dressed in the light flowing material many of the people of the city preferred. His long dark beard was oiled and braided and held silver charms and bells in it as well. His deep brown eyes fell on Madger, and he looked ready to scream.

  “Why isn’t she hooded?” His rich tenor came out in a screech.

  “Captain YusLer said she could only make a spark.” Talas waved a hand at Madger with a scoff, the multiple rings on each finger glittered in the sunlight. “When she got here she could only make a little fire on three of us.”

  “You have no idea,” he squawked and spun to leave.

  Talas chased after him. “What are you talking about?”

  Within the hour, a group of five iron-collared slaves came around the bush, all with a look of grim determination. Madger stood, as much as she wanted to remain seated, to accept whatever punishment they were bringing. But the Traditions stated that to not fight for your life was as good as suicide. If she had any hope of seeing her family in the afterlife, she had to keep fighting. But the Traditions did state that one could seek death while fighting for life. It was an odd phrase, but Madger accepted the sentiment.

  The slaves were stout men, their meager clothes exposed muscles that bunched and curled as they grabbed hold of her chains. As much as she tried to resist, she was still little better than a skeleton. With the chains pulled taut, she was held against the bars of her little cage, her face pressed firmly against them.

  “What are you doing?”

  A dark skinned slave walked up to her with a black leather hood, he leaned in close and whispered, “It’s better to accept this, than try to fight it. Your life will be easier once you accept the collar.” He glanced nervously over his shoulder toward the direction they had come from. If the other slaves were disturbed he was talking to her, they didn’t show it. “Learn to serve.”

  Madger’s eyes went wide, it was something her mother had told her, and then he pushed the hood through the bars and over her head. The world went dark, and as he cinched the hood closed at her neck, her sense of magic disappeared too. She screamed in shock and gave a brief struggle against the chains that held her in place. Cold metal was placed around her neck, something clanged against the bars, and then the open space at the back of the collar was squeezed shut.

  “It is done, Mistress.”

  The air inside the hood got hot and moist from her panicked breaths, and she tried to slow down her breathing. Then Talas’s voice broke through the muffling of the leather.

  “Cover her hands, and bind them to the bars, tightly, I don’t want her able to get the hood off.” Thick cloth covered Madger’s fingers, like mittens, and her wrists were secured to a bar. “Let her go, let’s see if this holds.”

  Madger felt the tension release, and she tugged at her wrists. There was no give, but she could slide the chains up and down the bar. She rubbed the hood against her shoulder, but it was tied securely around her neck. She tried to reach for her magic, to pool it into a spell, but it was beyond her touch.

  “Too powerful?” Madger sneered.

  “Ah, so you knew,” Talas answered. “I imagine you’re untrained then. You must be young for your kind. Just reached maturity? Do you have a monthly blood flow like humans?”

  Madger gritted her teeth, she wasn’t going to have that conversation with this woman.

  “And stubborn still. Most break while on the ship, but I do pay for the ones who don’t. Although you and the dwarf were an exception. It seems we were right, he is a trained fighter. But you don’t seem trained in anything.” Talas watched Madger jerk hard at the chains. “Don’t you want to learn? Mages are a rare commodity. Where else do you think you would be trained? It’ll be better to accept it for when I send you to the arena. I’d hate to have the arena destroyed if I sent you in untrained.”

  Madger sat heavily, exhausted already from her short struggle against the other slaves and her chains. The bar and chains scraped noisily as she went to the ground.

  “Though, I may just keep you as my personal mage, if you accept the training. I would have a lot invested in you. I wouldn’t want to have you try to escape from the arena when you are set free to fight.

  “I could just cut my losses here.” A knife pressed against Madger’s throat, between the edges of the hood and collar. “But the idea of having a giant, a mage, as a slave…” Talas sucked in a delighted breath, and the knife was taken away. “Though, mages do take a long time to train. I just can’t decide.”

  Madger gnawed on her lower lip for a moment. “I’ll serve.”

  Talas made a soft, “Oh?”

  Madger drew in a deep breath inside the stifling hood. “I’ll serve you. If you treat me well, train me, why shouldn’t I serve? My other option is death.” As much as Madger yearned for it, she couldn’t accept it. The thought of Kharick left alone here, watching her dead body, throat slashed, taken away. Madger took a shuddering breath; it completed the illusion that she was frightened of dying. She struck the proper demure tone, the one she’d used for most of her clan. “I can accept a life being your mage.”

  Talas gave an excited giggle. “Excellent!”

  ***

  Kharick drew a circle around himself in the hard packed dirt. It would give him space to take a step out from the center, but nothing more. A week had passed since he’d knocked out the orc, and none of the men offered him an unwanted word or ugly look. Today, Lanis wanted to spar with him. The red-haired man was a good fighter, but Kharick knew he was better.

  He’d guarded the secret passes into the mines. The king had put him in charge of the royal caravan that made trips back and forth. Only he, the five ox drivers, and three other guard captains knew exactly where the entrance was that a wagon could reach. The miners entered from within the depths of their cavernous dwarven kingdom.

  He’d practically grown up with the king, prince then. Kharick’s father had been the royal chronicler. His stories of the world and dwarf history were unmatched. Kharick was allowed to sit with the prince and listen as his father instructed the prince on the histories and the world at large.

  The circle was his, his caravan, his king’s trust. He never spoke of the mine, and never would disclose its entrance. His king had believed him when he told him of being ambushed near Black River. Of how he had chased after a group of bandits, but had been hit by an arrow and fallen into the river, striking his head. His king had understood he had needed to recover in the care of Gerran until he could return.

  Kharick rubbed at the warped scars on his bald head. His wife hadn’t. Grease fires could be difficult to smother on a man.

  He would let Lanis hit him a few times, let the man have his confidence, but he would not force Kharick from his marked territory.

  Lanis held a blunt wooden short sword. Lanis had given him wooden replicas of his weapons. They were lighter than what Kharick was used to, but after smashing the orc’s knee, Lanis wouldn’t give him anything with true weight. The orc would take months to recover.

  Lanis lunged, Kharick turned his sword aside with the crook of his ax. Kharick turned and didn’t deflect the next strike, letting the sword smash against his shoulder and back. He spun in answer, swinging the hammer low to keep Lanis’s toes from entering his territory. He made it slow enough so Lanis could move out of the way in time. Lanis tried to draw him out of the circle, but he remained.

  They danced back and forth for a few moments before Kharick thought it best to end the charade. He wasn’t used to muffling his skills, and he didn’t want to make a mistake and reveal too m
uch. Too many questions would be raised. Still, it felt good to have the practice of fighting again. Kharick relinquished his control of the circle and let Lanis end the fight with what would have been a deadly strike to Kharick’s gut if the sword had been real.

  “Good,” Lanis said as the dust slowly settled. “Once you get more of your strength back, you’ll be ready for the arena.” He gave Kharick a considering look. “You’ll likely win, the first bouts are always against new gladiators. Think of a reward.”

  Kharick answered immediately. “To see the lass, spend some time with her. Let me talk with her without someone looming over us.”

  “The giant?” Lanis laughed when Kharick nodded. He gave the dwarf an appraising look. “Bit tall for you?”

  Kharick’s beard shifted as he worked his jaw. “She be a young lass. Probably scared. She do no know anyone besides me.”

  Lanis chuckled. “I’ll speak with Mistress Talas about it.”

  Chapter 13

  310 Br. spring

  “Listen, slavery is a fair system. Anyone can become a slave.

  It’s the masters who have to work hard to afford slaves. The masters have to pay taxes on them.”

  -Yurl Klien, Tax Collector for the city-state Neosho

  I t was two months before Kharick was back to his full strength, and he had to admit he’d gotten a little chubby while working for Gerran. He had lost all that weight and more while on the ship. The orc was back, but made sure to keep well clear of Kharick.

  Lanis beckoned him over as the other gladiators sparred. “You’re going to the arena today. Mistress Talas and I will be watching. Don’t make a fool of me or her, and you’ll get a few hours with the giant.”

  Kharick’s beard twitched as he worked his jaw, and then he nodded once.

  “What do you want to be called in the arena?”

  So far Lanis hadn’t asked him his name but simply called him dwarf. “Harbinger.”