by M E Wolf
Blood seeped from the front of her head, and the side of her abdomen. Grabbing her by the hair, and pulling her to her feet roughly he spoke loudly to her, scrunching up his face with detest.
“What is your name, mutt?”
Crying her way through the words she said, “I am confused. You called me Dog, Maggot, and Mutt. My name is whatever you choose, you bastard?” A trickle of blood ran down her face, and mixed with her salty tears, and a pool of her own blood was at her feet turning the dirt to a reddish mud. The shaman grabbed Alexandra roughly by the shoulders and continued to speak to her harshly.
“That is a good slave, Dog. Now repeat after me. ‘I, Dog, am a slave of the L’art’o. My name is irrelevant, and will be given to me at the time of my duties.’ What are you waiting for repeat it?”
“I, Dog, am a slave of the L’art’o. My name is irrelevant, and will be given to me at the time of my duties.” Said Alexandra through an ocean of tears mixed with blood.
“Now repeat all that I say. ‘I will always be a slave. I will do as I am told when I am told it. I will not bathe so that the stench of my burden of slavery can be smelt. I will live in a hole in the ground, and will lay in my waste to further my stench.’”
She brushed the hair from her face, and said what she had to say, “I will always be a slave. I will do as I am told when I am told it. I will not bathe so that the stench of my burden of slavery can be smelt. I will live in a hole in the ground, and will lay in my waste to further my stench.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Alexandra felt everyone’s eyes on her. It was not a good feeling. She felt humiliated, sad, depressed, and hoped that this could end soon. Deep down she was angry, and it fueled something she did not like that lay deep, and buried within her. Alexandra did not like the idea that she would be a slave, and even worse she had to wallow in her own filth.
It was bad enough that she might have to live the rest of her long life this way. The books that were available for her to read in the tower over the last fifty, or so years could have never prepared her for the experience of this horrid day. She had no military training and was still tired, and weak from the shark attack. The shaman motioned for one of his acolytes to bring something over to him that had one end sticking in the fire.
Alexandra could see that one end of it was red, and was smoking as it hit the cooler air outside the fire, which meant that it was really hot. The acolyte handed the shaman the object that he had requested, careful not to burn himself, or the shaman. Holding it high in the air for everyone to see, the shaman then spoke,
“This object that I hold before all of you is a branding iron, which is not as obvious as that sounds due to its construction of fire hardened steel as opposed to iron. The reason is that it gets red at a hotter temperature. Our ancestors, to show the world of our ownership of our slaves, have used it for thousands of years. Everyone in Sevle knows our symbol, everyone fears our symbol, and best of all we have a lot of people out there that will return our slaves to us.
“We give a reward of one thousand Dinars, and that is equivalent to five pounds of our rubies, or two pounds of our emeralds, or half a pound of our diamonds,” He grabbed Alexandra’s hair with his left hand while still holding up the branding iron with his other hand then continued to speak.
“This slave is worth far more than the typical slave. She is worth fifteen pounds of our diamonds compared to the half a pound of diamonds for the typical slave. We will reward ten pounds of diamonds for her recovery. This brand will help us recover her because it is better known than the markings that we have placed on her.
“The high-class bounty hunters will be able to recognize the special markings, the dots, and the identity tattoo, and this will tell them of the price that we will pay for her return. They get nothing for her being dead, but get the rewards for her being alive.”
Four stout acolytes held Alexandra as the shaman walked over to the back of her, and pressed the steel branding iron into the back of her neck at the base of her skull. He held it there for what seemed like hours to Alexandra while she screamed, and went limp in the acolyte’s arms. When he removed it, he smacked her across the left side of her face four times leaving welts to make her at least semiconscious and said,
“Dog you are now branded a slave, once a slave, always a slave. This part of your inauguration is complete. Your first duty shall be to serve the food that the cooks have been preparing all morning. The food consists of goat’s blood to drink and three-dozen sailors or pirates, whatever they are as they all seem to taste the same Har! Har! boiled in an herb broth.
“Hmmm! It is very tasty indeed, but best served with nice Sevlin fat gravy, stewed mushrooms, and a touch of salt, and pepper. I trust that you have been told who eats first. Now, have you been told how to serve?”
“I know the order of who eats first. I have not been told the manner of serving,” Alexandra said with tears in her eyes. The shaman walked her over to the table that contained the food, and spoke to her,
“This table is where the food will always be. You take this large tray, and set it on the table like this,”
He showed her the way of setting up the tray to maximize the space on it, and continued to speak his directions.
“There are five elders so you place five mugs on the tray, and two pitchers of goat’s blood. You also place five large bowls on the tray, and one large serving bowl. You then fill the large serving bowl with the sailors, or pirates in herb broth.
“Once that is done you then pick up the tray, and serve it to the elders. When the elders are satisfied with their appetites you go, and serve the next in line.”
It sounded simple enough, but nothing about this day was plain, or simple. He continued to speak after his face turned an angry red.
“If you spill anything you will be whipped each time that you do. The more you spill the less chance you have of eating at all. I am going to go sit down now. You prepare everything as I have instructed you to do so, and you will be fine. Now get to work, maggot.” The shaman went, and sat down leaving Alexandra at the food table.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Alexandra picked up the tray that had the five bowls, five mugs, full serving bowl, and two full pitchers with both hands. She walked over to where the elders were sitting cross-legged on the ground. Each elder took a mug, and a bowl. Alexandra held the tray clumsily in one hand while she poured the goat’s blood into each mug, spilling a bit here, and there.
A servant, or headsman came up behind her, and told her to set the tray down while he whipped her till she trembled. Her back was numb, and torn, and she did not want to see what they had done to her back. Alexandra continued her duties after picking the tray back up. The elders took a gulp of the goat's blood, and set their mugs on the ground in front of them.
Alexandra filled each bowl with some of the sailors boiled in broth. She stood where she was while the elders ate, and drank. Their bowls, and mugs were refilled spilling a bit more in the time she spent there getting lashed with the whip each time. After that Alexandra went, and filled the serving bowl, and pitchers, and came back to the elders. She continued this process until the elders were satisfied then continued with the rest until she got to the dogs.
She spilt stuff or dropped food a total of three hundred, and eighty-four times, and received lashes for each time. When done she could hardly stand, but sitting was worse considering they had to stop lashing her back because it was too torn to continue on it. By the end, if she had have spilt more they would have had to lash the last place on her body, which was her face. Alexandra had no idea why she was still alive or what had kept her that way. She was instructed to drop the rest of the food, and goat’s blood on the ground so that the dogs could eat.
So, the rest of the food was dropped onto the ground in front of the dogs. The dogs ate the food that was now mixed with the goat’s blood. When the dogs were full they left the area. She was made to gather all of the food left over on the
ground that the dogs did not eat plus their waste into a brass bucket half full of some dark reddish black thick, and sticky liquid that smelled of blood, and strong liquor. This was to be served to the prisoners, and any left over she was to consume.
The prisoners refused to eat it and one was chosen out of the two. One of the L’art’o bit off that prisoner’s finger, and ate it, and then took out a long knife, and cut out the sailor’s heart, dropping it into the bucket, and then the other prisoner ate their fill of what was in the bucket. The bucket was taken away from Alexandra, and members of the L’art’o present at the meal defecated into the bucket, and mixed the contents up. Alexandra was grabbed by one of the acolytes, and brought to the bucket.
They commanded her to eat of the contents, but she refused. Alexandra was too torn to be whipped again, so she was kicked, and punched until she was covered with more bruises all over her body. She could not be beaten anymore due to her injuries being severe enough that they would kill her, unfortunately the sadistic savages had other methods of making her eat. Alexandra felt her heart squeeze as it tried to pump blood through her torn, and wasted body.
Her legs shook, and she peed herself. The light that was in her eyes when she lived in the city of Bannian turned to darkness. Alexandra's light was now dark, heaven forbid what the darkness was that grew deep within her ancestral soul. The savage shaman, and the rest of the tribesmen left Alexandra on the whipping post, and were drinking some red liquid, and were eating some strange looking meat.
The beating frenzy took a toll on their energy levels. With her eyes half open she could see only half of the prisoner left on the ground. She was not sure what the meat they were eating was because she could only see the savage shaman, and his acolytes from her position on the tree so she assumed it was the other prisoner that they were eating to build back their strength.
Her ordeal seemed to be over, but when the entire tribe was in a drunken stupor they all surrounded the tree she was tied to, and began to kick her, and punch her again. After they lowered her down from the tree her clothes, being in tatters as it was already, were torn free, and the savages began to take advantage of her. In their rage all of them wanted to enter her at the same time, and bumped into each other.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
They fought each other, and bit each other. She was punched, and kicked in every place imaginable. Her hands were bruised, and there was skin under her nails from fighting them off. No matter how weak she seemed she fought tooth, and nail not to have them enter her. Their naked bodies made her feel sick, and dirty deep inside herself. For hours she fought them until they, and her both were black, blue, and bloody all over.
Alexandra had bite marks all over her, but at least they were not able to enter her. Each time they bruised her, or tried to enter her the light that was dark reached out into the oblivion of her soul, and all went dark. When she went into unconsciousness they kept beating her. Tears welled up inside her as her spirit was broken. She wanted to cry, but there were no tears to come out so she cried on the inside. Life was not suppose to be like this, and she did not know what the bleak world would give her now.
She was sad, and in the grips of despair. How many of these flesh eating creeps bit, and beat her, she did not know? It was hard to tell when you felt pain, then numbness, then pain, and numbness again. This happened to her over, and over again. A simple life she did not have, she whimpered inside, and was not sure if it was heard outside of herself.
“That is enough.”
Is all that she heard as she continually lost, and gained consciousness while sobbing on the inside. She felt herself being wrapped in blankets, and carried away from the area of the whipping, and carnal lust of the flesh eaters. They were not able to enter her, but they had taken everything else.
Every movement caused excruciating pain in all parts of her body, this time her moans were herd aloud. Alexandra felt herself being set down on the ground. Waking some time later, the savage shaman said some incoherent words that Alexandra could not make out. It was a mumbling mess to her. He then brought the bucket back over to her. The elder said to her,
“The point of this inauguration is to make you belong to us by eating our excrement, which to us proves your loyalty, and your obedience to what we ask of you. We are not supposed to beat you to death, but we will if the need arises. Dog, come here. After this night you eat with your age group,” He looked at her naked form up and down, well naked except for the blanket around her.
“I judge you to be about twenty in appearance, even though your eyes say you may be older. Where is your soul dear, your eyes are black? That age could also be from what we have subjected you to, and what you experienced before coming here among us. So you will sit in the fifth group only if you eat what is in the bucket this night. This is the only time that you have to do this, and then it will be the same that everyone else has to eat.” The old elder comforted her like a grandfather would, and so she began to eat.
Alexandra did not like eating the filth, but felt that it was a better thing to do than dying, and tasted like honey compared to what she felt when they beat, whipped, and nearly entered her. Even so it tasted terrible and disgusting. She shook uncontrollably, and cried while she ate. Some darkness bubbled up and steadied her, she did not know what it was. Never would she get use to herself being used like that.
It tasted very strange, and she found that she was finished eating the contents of the bucket before she had realized it, even though she nearly threw up while eating it. She hoped that she would not be getting used to this type of food, or the degraded feeling that she felt now. Her face, and hands were covered in the waste. Not thinking, she licked her fingers, and nearly threw up again. It dawned on her that she would not be able to wipe, or wash it off, and she definitely could not take another beating, or more abuse.
The shaman said some incoherent words that Alexandra could not make out that sounded like Ghandus Mheris Mahsu, she was not quite sure. Reaching into the pouch around his neck he pulled out some powder, and rubbed it on her face, and hands. When he was done Alexandra’s face, and hands were clean. He then spoke,
“It was said that mutt could not wash with water, and that did not mean that she would not bathe, but that she could be cleaned with dirt. I have thus cleaned her face, and hands with sand. She is now one belonging to us. Mutt will remain a slave for the next ten years. Mutt, it was said that you would be a slave forever because that is protocol, and must be said. In order not to be a slave you must prove yourself worthy.
“So many things that one must do to be proved worthy as worthiness is not there at the start. All are born worthless. Now, to the smoking of the pipe. Mutt, the hierarchy of the passing of the pipe is similar to the meal, but there is a slight difference. The elders get the pipe first then myself, and the acolytes, then you, then the ones over fifty, then the ones over thirty, and then the ones over fifteen. The others do not take part in smoking the pipe.
“This pipe is different from the pipe that you have been smoking since you arrived. It is a more powerful hallucinogen that will make your visions more real than reality itself. Since it is your first time smoking the ceremonial pipe, we have to place you in a cage for your own protection, and ours. Your job right now is to present the pipe to the first elder, light it, and come back over here to this cage, and I will lock you in.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
Alexandra took the long ceremonial pipe from the shaman. Upon receiving it she looked at all of the carvings, and writings on it. She was not able to understand what was written, but the pictures told her that the pipe was extremely dangerous. The rewards for smoking the pipe were limited but always came with a price that seemed to be less than what the tribesmen had enacted upon her, however impossible that seemed to her at this time.
The price always depended on what you received when you smoked it. Some would not be affected at all, and others would be completely changed. Most that changed would have a cha
nge in the mind, and few rare individuals would change physically. These changes were often temporary, but some would change permanently. The more occasions that you would have to smoke the ceremonial pipe the more changes there would be, and the more changes you had, the more consequences you would have to face.
Some rare individuals after smoking the ceremonial pipe for an uncertain amount of times will experience events in their life that would resemble the effects of smoking the pipe again. She walked over to the first elder, and placed the pipe in his hands with a bow since he did not participate in the acts against her, and it was his voice she remembered telling everyone to stop what they were doing to her, even though he could have stopped everything before it had even happened.
He accepted the pipe, and let Alexandra light it. Alexandra walked over to where the cage was with the chalked circle around it on the ground, and stepped in. The acolytes completed the circle, and wrote some strange symbols on the ground all around her, and locked the door of the cage, and then lowered it into the large hole beneath the cage. Dirt was pushed into the hole so that the cage could not be raised by anyone outside of the cage where more symbols were chalked into the sand.
The top of the cage was covered with banana leaves, except for one small opening to pass the pipe through. All of this, the circle, and the cage, was for her, and everyone else' protection. One time before long ago at the inception of the L’art’o tribe they came upon the herb that they used in their ceremonial pipe. They did not know of its revealing nature, and they lost half of the tribe. The first time is always the worst because the herb takes you to severe primitiveness.
