The Slave War

by James E. Wisher

  The geyser subsided as quickly as it erupted. When the steam cleared Domina peeked out from behind him.

  “Not what you expected?” Leonidas asked.

  “No, the reaction was more… energetic than I anticipated.”

  When the last of the steam had dissipated, they both approached the cauldron. Fully expecting to find the circlet in a dozen pieces, Leonidas looked over the rim.

  It was intact and all the runes glowed with a strong, red light. They’d done it. The artifact was fully awakened. All that remained was to imprint his will on the magic, so it recognized him as the master of whoever wore it.

  This was the moment Domina would truly prove her loyalty. He could only do what he had to by lowering all the protections his ring provided. For the duration of the process he would be defenseless.

  Before he could think too hard, Leonidas reached in and grasped the circlet at the rune-covered section. The runes burned into his hand.

  Clenching his jaw against the pain, Leonidas waited for the burning to stop.

  After far too long it did. He pulled the circlet out and handed it to Domina. Across his palm were scars matching the runes of the circlet. It was done. Now all they needed was the girl.

  “Congratulations, Leonidas,” Domina said.

  Leonidas leaned down and kissed her. When he finally pulled away, he said, “I couldn’t have done this without you, Domina.”

  Her pale skin was flushed and her eyes sparkled. “I would do anything for you, you know that.”

  “I do.” He smiled and stroked her face. Such a useful tool. “Let’s go join Shade and the others. We have accomplished something great here, but much remains to be done.”

  Chapter 8

  Trudging down a deserted, moonlit road in the middle of the night with an assassin somewhere behind you was a tedious way to travel. For two nights Moz had marched from sunset to sunrise, covering about sixty miles in the process. He really missed his horse.

  As for his unwelcome shadow, the assassin had yet to try anything. He – Moz had decided to think of the assassin as male until proven otherwise – was still back there, invisible in the night. What he was waiting for, Moz couldn’t guess. There was a good two weeks to go at the rate he’d been traveling to reach the bard’s college. If the assassin was hoping for another challenge, trying to sneak into that magical place would certainly be one. Of course, there was no way he could know where Moz was going, unless the Dark Sages told him where Ariel was and that Moz was apt to return there.

  Moz stopped dead in the road. The assassin was using Moz as a distraction to sneak into the college and grab Ariel. He hadn’t wanted to kill him at all, just force him to run back to the castle. While everyone was focused on Moz’s arrival, the assassin could do what his masters really wanted.

  “I won’t let you take her!” Moz shouted into the night.

  “Take who?” the assassin asked, his voice coming from nowhere specific.

  “Ariel. I know you’re just tracking me back to the college so you can grab her during the chaos of my arrival.”

  Low, dark laughter filled the night. “You know nothing, ranger. I’m following you back so I can kill you on the doorstep of safety. I will take your life in that instant of relief. That sweet solace will be choked in blood.”

  Was it the truth or was the assassin lying to him? Given the lunatic’s overwhelming vanity, it was certainly possible he intended to do exactly what he claimed. Killing Moz on the college’s doorstep and escaping dozens of angry bards would appeal to his ego.

  He was relieved to know Ariel wasn’t the target at least. Of course, that did nothing to help Moz figure out how to deal with his stalker. Even knowing when the man would strike was a minor advantage that might leave him vulnerable to an earlier strike.

  “Why did you kill my horse?” Moz asked.

  The silence stretched ten seconds before the assassin said, “You are stronger than I first thought. The long walk will tire you, making the final blow that much easier. I admit it galls that I find such tactics necessary. But Master Black rewards success.”

  “And you fear fighting me fairly. I understand. I’ve met a few assassins in my career and they were, as a group, cowards too scared to take a warrior on in a straight fight. It seems you fit neatly into the same mold.”

  “There are no assassins like me.” The smooth, cool voice now held a hint of anger. “I’m certainly not foolish enough to fall for your childish goading. I will strike when it suits me, not you.”

  Moz didn’t really think a few insults would be enough to provoke an attack, but it was worth a try. “Have it your way, but you’ll be just as tired as I am when we arrive.”

  “Who says I’m walking?”

  Moz began to trudge once more. If the assassin wasn’t walking, how did he move around? Moz had searched during the day and there was no sign of either horse or cart. There had to be more magic involved. Clearly dealing with this would require more than simple physical skill. Lucky for Moz, he knew someone that could lend him a hand and owed him a favor, one of those favors that only comes when you save someone’s life.

  It was definitely nice having a wizard in your debt. Pity she lived so far from the college. Visiting Mariel was going to take him days out of his way. Still, it would be worth it if she could help him with his assassin problem.

  Chapter 9

  Three days of steady travel brought Yaz and the train of villagers within sight of the next target, a small farm covering maybe a hundred acres. Whatever they grew had been harvested, leaving the fields smooth and empty. A tidy white farmhouse sat across a dirt yard from a red, two-story barn. All very picturesque, as long as you could forget about who did the actual work.

  The only reason Yaz knew where to find this farm was that the name appeared on General Rend’s map. Apparently, it was owned by a former officer in the Carttoom army who bought it when he retired. Rend’s spies continued to keep track of the man just in case he was up to no good. All Yaz hoped was that he was well acquainted with the local farmers so he could direct them to the other villagers.

  According to the records from the Slavers Guild, former Colonel Card had bought a single slave, a woman named Agatha, age twenty-five. She wasn’t someone Yaz knew, but he feared what the colonel might have wanted her for. Assuming his fears were justified, keeping the other villagers from tearing the man apart before Yaz questioned him would be the hardest part of this job.

  “Yaz?” He’d been so lost in thought that Brigid snuck right up on him. “We’re ready.”

  “Okay.” Yaz had gone over what he wanted everyone to do earlier so now it came down to execution. As his father would say, this was where the problems showed up.

  Yaz, Brigid, and Silas left the others and began a slow, exhausted trudge up a rough dirt path to the farm. A split-rail cedar fence surrounded the property, but no one was keeping watch. They marched past a picked-over vegetable garden and sent a trio of chickens clucking on their way. Didn’t look like they were going to get much in the way of supplies here. Maybe there was a root cellar they could raid.

  Two freshly whitewashed steps led up to the front door. Yaz had swapped his bow for a staff and he used it to rap on the closed door.

  It opened a moment later and he found himself facing a cocked and loaded crossbow. A wiry, grizzled man in his early sixties glared at them. “Hell do you want?”

  “Please, sir,” Yaz said. “My brother, sister, and I were forced to flee our farm when an army of escaped slaves showed up with torches. Our parents didn’t make it. We’ve been walking for days. If you could spare a drink and some food, we’d be grateful.”

  He gave them another hard look. Considering how long it had been since they took baths, it wasn’t hard to pass as refugees.

  Finally, he lowered the crossbow and stepped aside. “We have eggs and bread. My house girl will fix you something.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Yaz said. He and the others stepped into the kitchen an
d the colonel closed the door behind them.

  Yaz took in the room at a glance. There was a potbellied wood stove for cooking, a cupboard and drawer, and a table surrounded by four chairs. Didn’t look like Carttoom paid their retired officers very well.

  “Get on out here, girl. We’ve got visitors.”

  At his command, a waif of a woman dressed in a ragged white shift emerged from the back room and set to making a fire in the stove. It didn’t look like he’d harmed her, or cut her dirty blond hair, or overfed her.

  As the woman prepared their meal Yaz asked, “Do you work this farm on your own?”

  He snorted a laugh. “Not at my age. Got two more chained in the barn. Not too much for them to do now that the harvest is through. Just have to keep them fed until spring so they don’t die. Damn nuisance, but if you keep slaves those are the breaks.”

  A whiff of smoke filled the air when the kindling finally caught. Agatha closed the stove door and pulled a battered iron pan out of the cupboard. Card finally put his crossbow down and sat in an empty chair. He waved Yaz and the others into the remaining seats and they joined him.

  “I heard about the troubles down south. I’ve got a few friends in the army that stop in now and then. The local garrison’s been deployed. Won’t take long to bring those dogs to heel.”

  “Too late for us I’m afraid,” Yaz said. “We’re heading to our cousin’s farm, it’s called Oat’s Creek. Thing is, he told us all about the place, but not how to find it. Can you give us directions?”

  “Oat’s Creek?” Card scratched his chin. “Sure. They’re fifteen miles north of here. Just stay on the main road. You can’t miss it. Why the hell they call it Oat’s Creek is beyond me. I passed by once and all I saw was potatoes.”

  Behind them Agatha started cracking eggs into the hot pan.

  “You know, he never said how he named the place.” Yaz used the tip of his staff to flip the bolt out of the crossbow.

  “What the hell?” Card leapt to his feet.

  Yaz was faster. He sprang up, swung his staff, rested the end on Card’s neck, and forced him back into his seat. “The young lady behind you is from our village. She was kidnapped and sold into slavery. We’ll be taking her with us.”

  Agatha stared at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “Really?”

  Yaz nodded. “Really. The people of Dragonspire Village take care of their own.”

  She smiled then glared at the back of Card’s head. “What about him?”

  “You tell me,” Yaz said.

  “He’s a pig,” Agatha said with more venom than he would have thought her capable of summoning. “He deserves to die.”

  Yaz drew his dagger and offered it to her hilt first.

  “What are you doing?” Brigid asked.

  “We couldn’t leave him alive anyway, not after he saw us. We can’t do what we have to with our faces back on wanted posters. We’ll take him out to the garden. That looked like good digging.”

  A shout from outside interrupted the debate.

  Silas ran to the door and looked out. “Uh-oh. A complication just marched into the yard.”

  Yaz grimaced. There was always a complication. “Could you be more specific?”

  “The villagers just came into the yard with six disarmed Carttoom soldiers between them.”

  “Great.” Yaz stood and motioned Card out the door. “Let’s go see what’s up.”

  The little troop strode up the driveway. Allen left his group and met Yaz halfway. “They were coming this way. I didn’t figure having six soldiers showing up unannounced would be good, so we grabbed them. What should we do now?”

  Yaz was starting to hate being in charge.

  “Are you okay, Colonel?” a soldier with sergeant’s stripes on his uniform asked.

  “For the moment,” Card said.

  “Watch him,” Yaz said to Silas. He went to the villagers and stopped in front of the patrol sergeant. “What is your mission?”

  The sergeant just glared at him.

  “You’re going to die,” Yaz said. “You and all your men. You’re going to die because this kingdom has decided that innocent people can be taken as slaves simply because they lack a noble patron. If you answer my questions, I can promise you a quick, clean death. If not, I’m going to start carving your men into bite-sized pieces. Their screams will be on your head, Sergeant. Are the nobles worth that much loyalty?”

  “Fine, damn you. Twenty patrols were dispatched to ensure the troubles down south didn’t spread. We’re to go farm to farm and speak with the owners to make sure all’s well.”

  A reasonable precaution, but not one Yaz had considered. “Do you have a map by any chance?”

  Yaz took his silence as a yes. He looked at Allen. “If he makes a move, smash his skull in.”

  Allen nodded, slightly pale in the face. It was easy to forget that despite their militia training, most of the villagers had never actually fought in a battle. Bloodshed was all abstract to them. He envied them that. Since leaving the valley, Yaz had seen far too much blood shed, plenty of it by him. Before this mission was finished, he suspected it would be all too comfortable for all of them.

  Yaz turned the sergeant’s pockets out until he found a many-times-folded sheet of parchment. He grinned when he finished unfolding the map. Every farm with a slave was marked and neatly labeled along with which ones each patrol was responsible for checking. This would make his life much simpler.

  Under other circumstances, this would be where Yaz tied them all up to await rescue. Today that wasn’t an option. Leaving soldiers alive meant they’d end up having to fight them a second time.

  “There should be tools in the garage,” he said. “We’d best get to digging.”

  Chapter 10

  Callie sighed and sipped her tea. She was seated alone in the college dining hall trying to take her mind off Tonia’s report. There were so few bards in the world that the death of one, even a traitor, hurt. Not that she faulted Tonia. The air spirit master had carried out her mission as well as could be expected under the circumstances. It was just lucky she ran into those other three desperate souls.

  And there remained the mystery that was Ariel. The little girl had settled in well. The other students had gotten used to her quirky behavior and now welcomed her whenever there was a group activity. The girl still held herself aloof, but it wasn’t as bad as when she first arrived. What Callie really needed was for Moz to return. He clearly had a special bond with Ariel.

  “Damn you, Moz. What’s keeping you?” She took another sip, savoring the minty finish. Thank the gods for tea. She might have gone mad by now without it.

  “Callie?”

  She nearly spilled her half-full cup. “Gods, Tonia! How many times have I told you to make a little noise when you approach?”

  “Sorry, force of habit from when I was in Carttoom. Something’s bugging the wind spirits.”

  Just what she needed, another problem. “Did they give any details?”

  “No, it doesn’t really work that way. Something to the northeast has them worked up. I’ve never seen them act exactly this way. Usually nothing bothers them, but whatever’s going on up there… I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Thanks for telling me. I’ll have Tamsin take a look. Want to come?”

  “Yes. The spirits won’t give me a moment’s peace until I figure out what’s wrong.”

  Callie pushed away from the table and stood. Was this the hour when the tamers had their training? She frowned then shrugged. If they weren’t in the training yard, she’d try Tamsin’s room.

  As they walked down the empty hall toward the door to the practice yard Callie asked, “Have you recovered from your mission?”

  “Physically, but I can’t stop thinking about how much hate Mel had in her. The college is the only place I’ve ever felt at home. I’d do anything to keep it safe. If she’d had the power, this place would be nothing but ash and rubble. How could we have had such different fee
lings?”

  It was a good question and Callie wished she had a good answer. She’d been thinking off and on about what she did wrong with Mel and how she could avoid the same mistakes in the future, especially with Ariel. That girl actually had the power to reduce the college to ash and rubble.

  “Mel had a unique talent,” Callie said. “And her talent was a bit gory as well. Those two things combined to make her something of an outsider. I blame myself for not noticing the bullying. If I had I would’ve put a stop to it. Whether that would have been enough to change things, I can’t say. The important thing is to make sure it never happens again.”

  Callie pushed the door open and shivered when a chill breeze rushed in over her bare arms. Another couple weeks and they’d have to quit outside lessons. As she’d hoped, the tamers were gathered in the center of the yard doing something. Off to the side, by herself as was typical, Ariel played with her little dragons. Even though she’d gotten more comfortable at the college, Ariel still didn’t seem to have any real friends beyond her dragons.

  “Is that the new girl?” Tonia asked.

  “Ariel, yes. The girl who can control dragons. She is without a doubt the most powerful and dangerous student we’ve ever had. No matter what, she can’t end up like Mel. If that happened, I doubt all the bards together could stop her.”

  “That’s a scary thought,” Tonia said.

  Callie nodded. It was the thought that kept her up a couple nights every week. The responsibility for training Ariel to use her gift as well as nurturing a strong sense of loyalty in her weighed on Callie. She wouldn’t fail. No matter what, she couldn’t fail.

  As they approached the gathered tamers, Lucy whistled once, bringing exercises to a halt. “Callie, something wrong?”

  “Something’s got the wind spirits riled up,” Callie said. “I was hoping Tamsin could send her hawk for a quick look around. I don’t know what could bother wind spirits since they can’t really be harmed, but if there’s a danger, we need to find it.”