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Some discourteous gladiator was swinging his sword against the inside of Gygr’s head. She heard murmuring around her and tried to open her eyes. Too bright. It’s too bright. She felt a light hand on her cheek and something very hard and cool around her neck. The warrior tried to lift her head.

“Just stay down,” Emilie whispered her mouth close to the woman’s ear. The warrior felt the warm breath and shivered.

Gygr felt something hard push into her stomach. “She awake yet?” Balador hissed pushing his boot against her.

“No. That was a pretty hard hit on her head.” Emilie brushed red hair from the warrior’s forehead.

Gygr stayed still, catching the hint to feign unconsciousness. Gygr felt the boots tap her in the stomach. “I’ll wait till the bitch is awake.” Balador turned and strode to the side of a big, fat man. “Malador. What do you think?”

“Very good. Excellent work Balador. Over two hundred and Gygr to boot. Jauka’s going to be very pleased.” He slapped his ample belly and turned to the women who were manacled and chained beside the unfinished tavern. “Fallas, have someone get me something to eat.”

Fallas chuckled, “sure Malador.” He prodded Delia with his foot, “come on,” and pulled her roughly to her feet.

“We’ll start out first thing in the morning.” Malador bounced on the balls of his feet.

“I think we should start right away. Keep them moving. Keep them hungry. That’ll keep them tired and from causing trouble along the way.” Balador glanced at the man then looked across the sea of faces of those who were to be sold into slavery. “Just a thought. Decision’s yours of course.”

“Balador. I hate traveling. But you’re right, especially with Gygr. Jauka has ships waiting at Panadol. When can you be there?”

“If we go by road through Pardi and Pneuma about 18 days or so. Or we can forego the roads and go straight. There’s plenty of water but it will be tougher going. The children will have a difficult time and we’ll probably loose a few of the old ones but we will also have less trouble with them as a whole. No place to run to. Be there in less than 15 days depending on how hard we push them.”

“Get them there in 10 and there’s an extra 50,000 for you.” Malador slapped the man's shoulder.

Balador smiled. “Always like working for you Mal, you don’t scrimp. Expect them in 10 days.” He turned to Fallas who dragged Delia behind, “get them ready to move out now. Children go in wagons. Old ones too.” He pushed Delia aside, “Food goes to him,” he motioned with his chin to Malador.

Whips cracked and soldiers kicked those who were slow in obeying. “Everyone up.” Fallas yelled. He snapped the whip at Jerome who grabbed at the gash it made on his arm.

Emilie shook Gygr who rose slowly. “Nice of you to join us,” Fallas flicked his wrist and laid a sharp strike against the woman’s back who jumped more at the sound than the pain. “Run you scum, run.” Fallas swung the whip over the heads of the villagers as they began to run followed by soldiers and the captured raiders who held whips or truncheons and did not use them sparingly.

Most of the villagers had at least eaten a morning meal, which was lucky, because they were forced to continue on until dusk. Gygr in addition to the manacles, which were attached to a neck collar, was also tethered to Bal’s saddle with a rope. Emilie tried to keep up, but between the heavy chains on her wrists and the runs Bal kneed Calliope into, she couldn’t stay beside the warrior.

By the time they were allowed to stop eight leagues had been covered. The captives were led to a stream where they drank and lay exhausted.

“Tang,” Balador stood over the man and helped him up. “I’m not going to ask Bris. I know what he’d . . .” The man stopped and looked around him. "Where is Briscoe?”

“Disappeared after Kel died. Haven’t seen him in days.”

“Another soft heart, huh?” Balador spit the saliva landing in a puddle beside his boot. “You a soft heart too?”

“Me?” Tang looked into the eyes of a man he had once thought of as a friend and chuckled, “nah, gets you in too much trouble.” He nodded his head toward Gygr.

“Join us?”

Tang Te was quiet for a very long time and Balador was becoming impatient.

“Come on.” Bal slapped the man on the arm, “lots of money to be made here.” His eyes flitted to where Emilie sat beside Gygr. “And lots of perks, if you know what I mean.” He chuckled.

Tang followed the direction of the look and understood exactly what he meant. “Toss in the girl?”

“You in then?” Bal pushed his face toward the other man.

“I want the girl.” Tang pushed down the fear that threatened to choke off his throat.

“Don’t want that bitch getting to her? I don’t blame you Tang. Unnatural if you ask me.” He used the key around his neck to unlock the former gladiator’s manacles and neck collar.

Tang rubbed his wrists and neck relieved to be free of the heavy accouterments.

Balador held his arm. “Just one more little thing there friend. We have to make an example of someone tonight. Just to keep everyone in line tomorrow. Know what I mean?”

Tang nodded even though he didn’t.

“Good,” Bal handed him a whip and pulled Tang with him. Balador looked at the exhausted people that lay before him. “You were too slow today. So when you’re too slow someone’s gonna pay the price.” The man smiled and nodded to Gygr. Four men rose and pulled her to her feet. “Tonight Gygr pays.” The warrior was spread face down over a nearby boulder and her arms, held by two of the men, as the other two manacled her feet. “Our new compatriot here will administer twenty-five of his best.” Bal looked closely into Tang’s eyes. “And it will be your best, won’t it?”

Tang hefted the whip and smiled hoping it made him look fierce and uncaring. “Been waiting a long time for this Bal. Thanks.”

At first no one thought he’d do it. They were friends. Everyone knew that. Gygr tried to look behind her but a blow across her mouth stopped that. Emilie tried to run to Tang but was stopped by a soldier. “No let her come,” Bal motioned with his fingers.

“You’re not going to do this? She’s your friend,” she pled.

“She’s been a millstone around my neck since I was a boy,” Tang spit the words out.

Balador grabbed Emilie and struck her across the face forcing her to the ground. “Shut up and watch. Tomorrow it may be you.”

Tang glanced quickly at Bal who merely shrugged. He moved toward his old friend being held down against the huge rock and prayed she would understand. Twenty-five of his best. And he’d given his best. Gygr’s tunic was ripped and bloodied when he was finished. Emilie wept openly, sobs erupting from her throat. “Good enough?” He turned to Bal and returned the whip.

“Perfect.” Bal clamped his hand on the man’s shoulder and shoved him lightly to Emilie. “Take your prize,” he laughed.

Emilie stared at Tang then at Bal and back at Tang Te. “Prize?”

“Shut up,” Tang swung his hand and caught her across the top of the head then pulled her up. “Got a place for us?”

“Fallas,” Bal yelled and immediately the raider was beside him. “Tang is now my number two man. He’s taking your tent.” He faced the shaking man, “Any complaints?”

“N . . n. . no Bal. None. He’s more than welcome to it.” The man turned to the new lieutenant, “I’ll show you where it is.”

Tang nodded to Bal and pulled Emilie as he followed Fallas to his new quarters.

“I can’t believe you did that to her.” Emilie murmured.

“Shut up,” hissed Tang Te.

“She was your friend. Why?”

“I said shut up.” He yelled and pushed her into the tent Fallas had just then pointed out. “Fallas, unless there’s a mass escape attempt I don’t want to be disturbed tonight.” He faced the man and crossed his arms over his chest, “Understand?”

“Yes sir,” Fallas almost bowed but caught himself and hustled away angry at the demotion. And he did it in front of everyone. The bastard's gonna pay one day.

Gygr’s back stung with each blow. She could feel the warm, sticky blood run down her back and sides and had sworn in every language she knew until the beating ended. She hoped Tang was putting on a good show at his end. It felt like it. She squirmed and jerked as often as her dignity would allow but she never allowed a sound escape her lips. After, women tried to approach to tend her wounds but were beaten back by soldiers and pulled back by husbands who mumbled something like, “that woman can take care of herself..”

The warrior was roped with her arms above her hanging from the heavy branch of an old tree, knees just barely touching the earth. She would be forced to spend the night like that. Bal knows all the tricks. She closed her eyes as often as possible and after the fifth time when she was awakened by truncheons hitting her chest and back, realized the intent of this punishment. He wants me exhausted.

“I’m tired. I don’t want to practice,” young Gygr looked up to Briscoe.

 “Little One you must practice. Especially if you are tired.”

“Why?” The small girl sat on the ground head almost all the way back looking up to the tall man.

“Because if you are in a fight and you become tired will, you ask your opponent to stop while you rest?”

The girl giggled. “No. That’s silly, Bris, he’d kill me.”

The man lowered himself onto one knee. “Yes he will Little One.” He brushed red hair from the little face, “so is it not best to keep going and not let him know when you are tired so he will not take advantage of you?”

The girl blinked, “yes. But Bris, what if he gets tired?”

Bris smiled, “what do you think you should do then?”

Gygr looked her mentor straight in the eye, “take advantage and kill him.”

Everyone was awakened well before dawn and allowed to drink before they were again whipped into a run. Again Gygr was roped to Bal’s saddle and forced to run most of the morning. By midday the two hundred were scattered along nearly two leagues and Bal waited impatiently until the last caught up. “Why don’t you let them rest,” Gygr coughed.

“How far is it to the lake?” Bal sat across from her holding the rope as she swallowed water from a skin.

“From Nicopolis about 35 leagues.” She took deep breaths and flexed her shoulder muscles, which were getting stiff.

“We’re not stopping again till we get there.” He turned and watched Tang in a heated discussion with Emilie. “Tang,” he yelled.

Tang Te dragged Emilie with him, “yeah.”

“You stay in the rear. We don’t stop again till we get to the lake.”

“But that’s another 25 leagues?”

“You bring up the rear. Don’t stop till you get to the lake. I’ll be waiting.”

Gygr glanced at Emilie who seemed uncomfortable. She winked at the girl and received a very slight upward turn of the corner of her mouth in reply. Balador pulled Emilie toward him. “This will be waiting for you when you get there.”

Tang almost protested but when Gygr’s hands moved he stopped. Play the game. She’s telling me to play the game. Thank the gods she knows. “Why don’t we just split them into two groups. I’ll continue at a slower pace and you move as fast as you can with the others. I know I can get them there in time. Just have to be a little less . . enthusiastic with some of them. Know what I mean Bal?”

Balador thought it over. “OK Tang,” he pulled Emilie closer, “but she stays with me until you show.”

“Bal, I have no problem with that. I want her back just as she is..” Tang stood nose to nose with the man. “I hope you understand this can become personal very quickly. And Bal you know mixing business and personal pleasures don’t usually work out well. Don’t do anything I might disapprove of.” Bal unconsciously took a small step back and Tang knew he’d won his point.

“I’ll do my best to get them there on time.” Tang nodded and walked away calling half a dozen soldiers to his side to explain the new procedure. Within minutes the groups were divided and Bal had started his group running again. The moon was at it’s highest and the first group had still not reached the lake. Bal was forced to stop for a breather as much for himself and his men as for his panting captives.

Emilie had a difficult time keeping up. Bal had tied her to his horse like Gygr but, unlike the warrior, the girl was in no shape to run for any length of time. She kept falling and being dragged. After the third time Balador tossed the rope to another soldier with instructions not to loose her. The soldier laughed to himself. This guy’s an idiot. How did he end up in charge?

By daybreak the first group reached the lake and Bal sent four small groups of soldier’s to hunt game. The soldiers returned with more than enough for the hundred or so in the first group. The captives ate and rested from their ordeal.

Bal roamed through the captives, “Quella,” he yelled. The young former farmer stood from his spot and jogged to the leader. “You see that guy, Bris?”

“No one’s seen him since Kel was killed. He just kinda disappeared. Why?”

“Never mind.”

“How’s your back.” Emilie whispered.

“Fine,” the warrior smiled. “I’ve had worse.” She cleared her throat, “how are you?”

“Uh, fine.”

“Tang likes you.”

“Yeah, that’s why he got me as a prize for beating you.”

“Emilie, listen to me.” Gygr touched the girl's hand then pulled her hand away, “Tang did what he had to do. If it wasn’t him it would have been someone else. And that could have been a lot worse.”

“A lot worse? How can you say that? He whipped you as hard as he could. I saw him.”

“Emilie don’t always trust what you see,” she whispered.

“Well ladies, having a nice little chat.” Balador stood over them and smiled. “Is this one of those ‘little ones’ you want to protect Gygr?” The man spread the torn tunic on the warriors back, “I see you’re not healing as quickly as usual, huh? Guess it’s tough running all day and trying to heal your body at the same time. Expends a lot of energy. “Quella. Get over here.”

The young man actually had the decency to shake as he lay the whip fiercely onto the warrior’s back. Emilie shed quiet tears and the other captives mostly turned their heads away and lay down for much needed sleep.

Within a couple of days Balador felt like he had everything under control. His men were happy after he agreed they could each have a woman every other night, half one night half the other. He had Gygr under control with 25 lashes every evening and he’d even had Emilie every night. If Tang is a problem I'll just add him to the group. Really shouln't trust the man when Gygr is concerned. They were making good time and might even reach Panadol a day earlier than expected. His scouts kept him informed of the whereabouts of Tang and his group. Yes, things were looking very good.

By the fifth day Gygr’s back was raw. The nightly beatings had taken their toll. She had to admit Bal knew his business. He’d cut her food down to barely a few bites a meal. The woman discovered again the discomfort of always being hungry. Starvation she knew was not yet even in the picture but if she didn’t regain some of the strength she’d lost on this grueling trek she’d not last long in the mines.

Emilie was with Bal every night and sometimes Gygr could hear her sob. She wished she were deaf. The girl’s eyes lost their luster and the warrior could sense was loosing her sense of self. She now did whatever Bal requested. Emilie didn’t seem to care about anything anymore.

When they reached Panadol Gygr could barely stand. The beatings had stopped three days before but the food was still less than two handfuls a meal. She’d lost weight and the dark circles under her eyes and ghostly pallor made the warrior look three times her age and unrecognizable as the Gygr who had once been cheered as a great gladiator.

Balador received his bonus and took his men out to celebrate. The captives were left on the docks to be loaded onto a ship later in the day. Tang and his group were five days behind but wouldn’t be shipped to Doria until the following fortnight giving them plenty of time to recover from their journey. Gygr and the others waited. It had been a long 141 leagues and no one had suffered more than the warrior. Emilie made every effort to stay beside the woman whenever she could. Moral support. Gygr remembered.

Bris watched and looked into every face. The one with red hair was thin and carried herself all wrong. And the hair was dull and filthy. When he saw the eyes even from as far away as he was, he knew it was his Little One. He’d boarded Hannibal in the furthest stable from the dock just in case anyone should recognize him or his distinctive saddle. The old gladiator allowed his beard to grow but knew Balador would still recognize him.

He watched as the sailors prepared the ship for it’s human cargo and winced when he watched the captives herded onto the gangplank whips stinging their backs clubs across the chest or a head. Gygr hustled like everyone else and boarded the ship finally able to close her eyes as they waited for the tide.

Emilie pulled the sleeping warrior so her head was on the girl’s lap and stroked her cheek, her forehead, her arm. “It’s all right,” she whispered as much for her own comfort as for that of this woman who had taken the punishments without ever uttering a sound in pain. “You’re safe for now Gygr.”

Sailors, most of them slaves themselves, distributed waterbags to the captives and some food. Emilie held onto the small pieces of bread and took a deep drink of water. She felt the slight lurch of the ship as it pulled away from the dock and her stomach suddenly felt queasy. “How long is the trip?” She asked a passing sailor.

“Bout a hunnerd twenny nautical mile, missy.”

“I mean in days. How long till we get to where we’re going?”

“Dat’s bout ten, twel hour, no day, missy.”

“Oh?” She felt the warrior shudder and immediately stroked her brow. “It’s all right. You’re safe. Gygr. You’re safe.” She leaned back, the bow of the ship against her back. Not quite the last table at the back of the tavern, but at least you can see what’s going on here. And the sailors don’t keep asking you to move because they have to pull up this or let down that.

“She getting heavy on you Emilie,” A big man stood in front of the girl and looked down.

“Kosta?”

The man lifted the warrior and cradled her in his lap. “How are you Emilie?”

“Kosta,” tears filled her eyes and onto her cheeks. “I’m so afraid.”

“Don’t you be worrying now. We’ll all at least be together.”

“Together?”

“Yeah. Heard some of them boys talking. We’re all to go to the same mine. So at least having friends about will make it bearable.” He looked at the sleeping warrior, “how’s she doing?”

“Not good. I’m afraid for her. She’s  . . just . .”

“Now, now. This here’s a strong lass. Take only a few days of regular eats and she’ll bounce back. Her type do.”

“Her type?”

“Fighters and such.” He smiled at the girl and was pleased to get a small smile in return. “Got stuff fer her to eat in me shirt, courtesy of Nicopolis. Emilie,” he lifted his hand and stroked her cheek, “just know we all care about this woman. She saved us and we all think if she hadn’t been the one to take the beatings lots of us would be doing much worse than her.”

“He wanted to break her spirit, Kosta.”

“We know that lass. And he didn’t. We know that too.” He moved and lay Gygr with her back against the bow her head lying on Emilie’s shoulder. He fumbled in his shirt and pulled out a dirty linen and placed it on the girl’s lap. “Best she not be waking in me arms,” he chuckled as he slid out from under the warrior and went back to his spot between Jerome and Thadius who both nodded to her. She smiled back and lifted the bundle, mouthing thanks.

The ship swayed from side to side and Emilie found herself becoming more uncomfortable with each roll. Finally she rose and leaned over the side. She hadn’t eaten much so there was little to loose. And she did feel a little better. She squirted water into her mouth from the skin and swished it around before spitting it over the side. Better. Yes, much better. The sun set aft and Emilie saw the colors change before her then yawned. Gygr still slept and Emilie shivered from the chill the darkness on sea brought. She moved Gygr so the warrior’s body would slip down to the deck and cuddled behind her. She felt the woman shiver under her arms and covered her with her body as best she could. She was nearly asleep when she felt something float over her body bringing warmth. “Jus a lil somtin to kep yer an yer sis warm, missy,” the sailor whispered and slipped away. Sister?

The gentle rocking of the ship actually helped the girl sleep. She pulled herself closer to Gygr until she heard the woman groan which reminded her the warrior’s back was still nearly raw. Emilie scooted away just slightly and stroked the warrior’s arm. Finally she slept.

Emilie awoke water splashing over her. The wind was blowing and the ship rocked precariously, port to starboard and aft to bow.

Gygr sat up quickly. “Storm.” She watched the dark clouds roll over one another in the sky overhead and could see lightning in the distance. Not distant enough though. Sailors ran about dropping this, lifting that and there was a steadily growing feeling of panic as the ship steersman lost his footing and was swept overboard by a huge wave.

“Emilie,” Gygr yelled into the girl’s ear. “Find rope and tie yourself to something steady.”

“Steady,” she held out her arms to the tossing ship, “there’s nothing steady on this boat.”

“The mast.” Gygr saw the confusion in Emilie’s eyes, “those tall beams going up. Those are the masts. Tie yourself to them and get everyone else to do the same.”

Gygr stood and found her sea legs, thankful there were no leg chains, and made her way to the wheel now being held by two inexperienced sailors who were whiter than the surf caps. “I’ll take the wheel. You drop the sails.”

The young sailors sighed in relief and allowed her to relieve them at the wheel. Gygr fought the large steering mechanism and finally was able to steer into a gentler wind. She watched the two sailors climb the rigging toward the mainsail. The wind howled and beat the men unmercifully. She watched one cut the line and the mainsail slip part way down. Damn, must be caught. The ship was hit with another large wave and was forced to port nearly 90° causing one sailor to loose his footing. She watched helpless as he fell into the ocean disappearing under the force of still another wave. The other man held on for dear life. Where’s the rest of the crew?

She had barely finished the thought when a big burly sailor stood beside her and took the wheel. “Got a git da mensal dun. I kin dew it er ye kin dew it.” He looked at the warrior.

“I’ll do it. Keep her as steady as you can.”

“Yah, missy.”

Gygr pulled the dagger from the man’s belt and held it between her teeth as she climbed the rigging heading for the mainsail. Her back stung from the salt water and wind. When she looked down she saw the captives looking expectantly up at her. Damn. I let the mainsail go and it could fall on them. She looked at the sailor at the wheel who then looked at the captives and seemed to understand her dilemma. He allowed the wheel to move to starboard causing the ship to lurch to port. Gygr understood what the sailor had in mind. She cut the bottom ropes of the sail and then climbed higher to the top. “Hold on tight,” she yelled to the frightened sailor still clinging at the top. He nodded his head and shivered in the cold.

Gygr saw exactly where the sail had been caught and reached down to cut the rope. The ship lurched to port again and she almost lost her footing. The knife slipped from her hand and fell into the sea. She reached up and pulled the knife from the young sailor’s sheath and tried again. The rope snapped clean. Now the other side. The sail was now held by the one rope on the port side. Gygr slowly slid her feet across the foot hold toward her left holding onto the dangling ropes from above. Finally she made it to the edge where the last rope held the sail in place. Barely in place, but still attached to the mainmast. She straddled the crossbar and held tight waiting for the pitch that would signal an upcoming roll to starboard that would precede the quick pitch back to port. If she timed it right the sail, rigging and whatever pulleys were attached would fall into the sea. If she didn’t it would fall onto the deck where it would cause deaths. She felt the pitch and at the high point of the roll flicked the knife cutting the rope and watched as the pitch back to port sent the sail and everything attached into the sea. Gygr slipped and released the knife grabbing onto the crossbar ropes with her hands.

The ship rolled a bit then steadied and she pulled herself up to the crossbar and took several deep breaths. She watched the young sailor slide down the rigging and land finally on the deck. She followed, but a tad more slowly. Her still raw back  was beginning to throb.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?”

“Dey be wit Nepdun now. Silly fools. I tol dem no pud erl da sail up. Bud no, dey tink dey seamen, know evyting.” He turned the wheel, “we be in Misry soon.” He nodded to the port side and Gygr saw another ship. Larger than the one they were on. “Dat be da solder ship. No wantin ye to git away.” He shook his head. “Tu ba, ye be a nice laty, an ye sis too.”

The sea was calm and the captives gathered round her to offer thanks. When we get to the mines they may wish we all died here.

Port Misery was a busy place. There was an urgency Misery seemed to always wear. The soldiers were efficient. Taking names of captives, removing personal items the raiders and other soldiers may have overlooked. One man couldn’t remove his dead wife’s ring from his little finger so it was cut off and the prize was shown around until it was pocketed by the man who removed it. He also pocketed the finger.

Further down the line they were asked if they wanted their hair cut or not. “Cut your hair,” Gygr whispered and the word was passed down. Every villager had his or her hair cut to the scalp.

Next stop was the wardrobe table. “Take yer shoes off. Yer don’t need um in the mines." A surly guard collected them, trying on a pair of boots which he kept.

They heard screams in the next room and Gygr passed the word, “That’s where they number you. Whatever you do don’t forget your number.”

Since the warrior already had a tattoo it was unnecessary for her to go through it again. They noted her number 1734 and logged it in the big book along with the numbers of the new slaves. They were now officially slaves.

Gygr leaned over and counted. “Stay beside me,” she whispered to Emilie and pushed the man behind Emilie in front of herself.

In the next room the slaves were chained together in twos. The first placed their right foot on a bench and the second the left foot and a manacle was attached around the ankle and a hot metal slug pounded into the hole to hold the thing together. Cold water was poured over the hot metal and immediately it hissed and steamed. A long chain almost Gygr’s body length was attached to the manacles so each person was to have a permanent partner. Or at least until one died.

Just as Gygr had planned she and Emilie were chained together. So number 1734 and number 10658 were logged as one unit.

“Whatever you do, don’t react when we get into that room.” She said and the word was passed along. So far everyone had understood that Gygr was informing them of something she’d been through before. And it was confirmed when they saw her own tattoo on her upper arm.

The slaves were forced to stand for some time before a soldier arrived with a dog held firmly by a chain. “This is the processing station and you have been fortunate enough to donate your time to Jauka to assist in his mining operation. From here you will be taken to the mines you have been assigned.” He looked at the faces and made his way to the one with the very short red hair. “Gygr?”

She nodded to the man.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?”

“Hello Wist.”

The man smiled and swung his truncheon down on her shoulder driving her to the floor. “You idiot. Wist is the dog.”

Slowly Gygr rose.

“Not starting out very well are you?”

She said nothing. Again a blow to her shoulder forced the warrior to the floor.

“If I remember right this was the part you never really got the hang of. So let me refresh your memory.” He slipped his finger into the neck of her tunic and pulled her toward him to the front. Emilie was forced to follow. He looked at the faces of the rest of the slaves and smiled, “rule one. Speak when you are spoken to. Gygr broke that rule. She didn’t speak.” He backhanded the truncheon into the woman’s stomach with such force she was slammed against a wall. “Rule two. Never, ever say no. That word is not in a slave’s vocabulary. Rule three. Do whatever any guard tells you. No questions.” He approached Jerome, “if a guard tells you to bend over so he can do you, do it.” Jerome’s eyes widened. “Rule four. You are property of Emperor Jauka. You are expendable.”

He turned to Gygr. "Rule five. You’ll receive punishment if you touch a guard,” he held up his thumb. “If you strike another slave,” he held up his forefinger. “If you don’t complete your work to any guard’s satisfaction,” he held up his middle finger. “If you don’t eat everything given you,” he held up the fourth finger. “Or if you fall asleep when you should be working. “And finally whatever punishment you receive your other half will also receive. You are considered one unit. You share everything, meals, punishments, and work. You’ll separate only when one of you dies.” He held up his little finger. “Get outside.”

Rules fresh in their minds the slaves tumbled out of the building and stood outside where it had begun to rain. They waited. And waited. The rain let up a little but a light drizzle continued to fall and still they waited. They had docked at midday and it was now close to sunset. Wist and his master stepped from the building followed by six men. “When your number is called step out and to the side.”

Immediately one man stood before the shivering people. “My name is Bozz. From now on you will refer to me and all guards as Master.” Then he quickly recited twenty numbers. There was confusion when some forgot their number and others found their number had not been called but their other half’s was. Bozz shook his head. “Slaves. Understand this. From now on your unit designation will be the lowest number of the unit. He pulled Jerome and Kosta who happened to have been shackled together. “This is number 10703,” he grabbed Kosta they pushed him aside, “and this,” he read the number from Jerome’s upper arm, “is 10704. So they are unit 10703.” He pushed both men back into the group and they stepped aside. “So let’s do this again.” Bozz called the numbers again and twenty units stepped aside. Several guards surrounded the group and marched them away.

The same procedure was used five more times. Gygr and Emilie were assigned to the final group with Master Lumor. They followed the guards and fell into an orderly procession after watching Master Resof and his men beat and whip their stock into an orderly line five deep and four wide. The lesson was not lost on those remaining to be assigned.

Master Lumor and his guards led the group of twenty units to a large metal barred wagon. Eight draft horses were hitched to pull it. Lumor, the captain stood in front of the open back of the cagewagon and looked over his stock. “We have a long way to go. My job is to get you in shape before you get to Number One.” He nodded to a man who closed the door of the cage wagon. “First order of business is to get your feet used to being bare. Some of you will have more difficulty. Slaves do not wear shoes. You will walk most of the way.” Lumor mounted a horse held by one of his subordinates who  then swung easily onto his own mount.

Lumor set an easy pace. He had started his career as a foot soldier in Jauka’s army and had risen through the ranks rapidly because of his courage and loyalty. He had not elevated above the rank of Captain however because of his preference to kick butt rather than kiss it. His superiors found his organizational skills exemplary and hoped a transfer to the mines would keep him from being noticed by Jauka. Lumor was popular with his men, well, most of them and that rankled most of the other captains especially Resof.

The Commandant of Number One treated the units under his charge slightly better than most of the other mine managers. He allowed a physician, who was a slave himself, attend to the needs of both his men and the slaves. Although every mine served the same food those at Number One usually received all they could eat. Usually. His mine uncovered a higher quality and larger quantity of gold than any of the others. He prided himself on that. The men under Captain Lumor at Number One were also proud of that.

The drizzle finally stopped and Lumor called a halt. A second wagon loaded with supplies continued forward and halted beside the cagewagon. “You,” a guard pointed to Emilie,” Get the waterskins from the supply wagon and pass them around.” He dismounted and handed the reins to another guard who pulled a unit aside.

“Either of you know about horses?” The guard asked.

Jerome answered, “yes.” Then hastily added, “master.”

“Name’s Gregor.” The guard handed the reins to Jerome and looked at both his and Kosta’s brands. “Well then 10703 your job will be to groom all the horses. What you need is in the supply wagon. Start now.” Gregor nodded and walked away.

Other guards left their mounts with the unit and walked away. Jerome and Kosta looked around. Scrub dotted the area. There were few trees. The men ended up settling the reins under large rocks hoping something wouldn’t scare the mounts into running away.

Gygr and Emilie made sure everyone had enough water to drink and returned the skins to the supply wagon. The teamster who drove the supply wagon ordered a unit to build a fire and began putting together foodstuffs that would become the late afternoon meal.

“Ngano,” Lumor settled against a wheel of the cagewagon his subordinate on one knee beside him. “We’ll settle here for the night.” He turned his head and looked at the slaves, “looks like good material.”

“Yes Captain,” Ngano agreed. Ngano was one of the few who despised Lumor. He thought the man too soft on the slaves. Lumor had been Captain of Number One for a mere three months. The previous commandant had died of fever and for a short time Ngano, as second in command, was in charge. He relished the role and took advantage of it in every way. When Lumor had been selected to become commandant Ngano was furious. He'd hoped Lumor would meet with an accident or become severly ill in the harsh environment of Doria. Ngano as a native seemed immune to the tremendous shifts in temperature between summer and winter.

“We’ll give them a good night’s rest then leave at dawn. Have Stamos check all their feet.”

“Yes sir.” Ngano rose and kneeled beside another man and spoke with him briefly. The two men nodded and separated.

Stamos pulled a pack from the supply wagon and approached the silent slaves. Gygr and Emilie watched as the man cleaned feet, carefully examined them and applied salve and wrapped those that required it. The girl and the warrior glanced at each other when the man approached them. “I’m Stamos the physician for Number One. Let me see your feet.” He tapped Gygr on the shoulder and she turned and stretched her legs out. The man poured water over them brushing away the mud and inspected first one then the other. “No problem with your feet," he checked her brand, "1734. Low number you must have been here before.”

Gygr stared at the man for a second, “yes.” She felt Emilie’s elbow in her side, “master.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m a slave too.” Stamos smiled, “where were you assigned?”

“Four.”

The man nodded his head as he checked Emilie’s feet. He glanced at Gygr, “how long ago?”

“Five years.”

“Must have been as a punishment then?”

“Yes.”

He gently rubbed salve on Emilie’s feet and bound them with clean linen. “You’ll have to ride in the wagon tomorrow.” He turned to Gygr, “both of you,” then rose and moved to the next unit.

The meal consisted of salted fish and porridge. Gygr passed the porridge to Emilie who tried to give the woman her fish in exchange. “No. Eat all of it,” she whispered refusing to touch Emilie’s food. The tired group lay down and slept.

During the night Emilie could feel the warrior begin to tremble. The girl lay closer and gently stroked the woman’s arm and Gygr instantly relaxed. The moon was full and Emilie took a peek at the warrior’s back. It seemed to be healing. Scabs covered the previously open wounds and the angry red had turned to black and blue bruising.

Number One, located in north central Doria, was surrounded by desert hills. It was in those hills the first miners had found gold nuggets the size of their fist and started a rush to the sparsely inhabited territory. About half the size of Alaistria, Doria was, even during the height of the gold rush, inhabited by less than 10,000 people. Alaistria claimed ten times that.

Jauka, in need of funds to supply his troops for the planned invasion and conquest of Alaistria had simply made the miners offers that could not be refused. They turn over half the gold to Jauka or die. Several thought dying would not have been worse than living under Jauka’s regime. Those that capitulated later thought their compatriots had more than likely made the better decision. Eventually the mines came under the complete control of the warlord and the miners who had accepted the 50/50 proposition discovered their 50 did not exist and when they complained were dealt with in the usual Jauka manner. Enslaved. The miners. Their employees. The families of every one of them.

Before Jauka had taken over the mines he had rented slaves, soldiers, and various other members of his staff to the mine owners for specific periods as punishment for a host of indiscretions. Now with the enslavement of thousands a month to dig the gold it was not uncommon for former temporary internees to return as permanent forced laborers. Like Gygr.

Number One had always been the best producing mine. Jauka and his advisors knew, through their spies, most of the men responsible for the operations of each mine were also skimming off the top. He was also aware Lumor, wealthy in his own right, was not one of them. The captains kept track, via their own spies, exactly what each mine produced. Although Jauka had once been intrigued by the day to day operations of the mines, insisting on being kept informed of every new vein, his preparations for and subsequent invasion of Alaistria, had distracted his attention from them. His attention focused elsewhere allowed captains the opportunity to steal greater and greater amounts of gold which were set aside as a precursor toward fulfillment of their own dreams of conquest and glory.

Bris found Tang Te in the Revelers Tavern a shoddy establishment frequented by soldiers newly assigned to or recently released from duty at the mines of Doria. He had spent several days chatting up the men, plying them with drinks trying to discover where the latest group and in particular Gygr and Emilie had been sent. It wasn’t easy. In a country with six mines spread over 20,000 square leagues anything the man could do to narrow the search would save time and maybe some lives.

Tang had delivered the second group to Balador who had decided to hire a more capable ship and crew than that which almost cost the lives of the first bunch. Even though he’d already been paid it was bad form to fail to get the goods to it’s final destination.

A grizzled, big black man bought Tang Te a drink and leaned against the bar nursing the ale. “What happened to you?”

Bris looked at his friend and dropped his eyes. “Decided to go hunting. Take my mind off . . Kel.”

“Sure chose a damn good time.”

“Yeah. When I got back the place was deserted. Found Hannibal in the stable. Knew there had to be trouble, Gygr would never leave that horse.” He took a long swig from his mug. The barman picked up an empty mug from the bar and dropped it into a tub of water and wiped the bar with a cloth.

“Let’s grab a table,” Tang lifted his drink and chose a table at the back of the bar and took the seat facing the front. Bris sat beside him so both men had a good view of the door and the other patrons. “Able to find out where she is?”

“No. But I know where she isn’t.” Bris took another long pull from the mug. “Not in six, not in four. That’s as far as I got. Day after tomorrow there’s another transfer so hopefully we can narrow it down further. I don’t want to go until we get down to two probable locations. I’d really rather not split up unless we absolutely have to.”

“I agree. Have a plan?”

“Other than getting Gygr out?”

Tang nodded.

“No. Not yet.” Bris shook his head and swallowed the last of his ale. “Let’s get outta here.”

The barman set a mug in front of a customer and said something to him. Quella watched the former gladiators depart from the tavern, emptied his drink then left.

The units assigned to Number One continued the journey to a new life as slaves. By the time they reached Hyr most of their feet had toughened. Lumor was pleased and picked up the pace. They were still at least five days from the mine. Lumor scanned the horizon. Nothing. Just sun, heat and the dust of the desert. The captain did not enjoy traveling and it was times like this he’d rather have been back in Creanistri training his legions even as a lieutenant. At least in Creanistri he would be near his beloved Ariana and their three children.

Except for a middle-aged couple who still rode in the cagewagon the villagers were finding the trek a little less difficult. They were fed as much fish and porridge as they could eat, stopped often for breaks and allowed sufficient rest. Gygr was slowly getting her energy back and the wounds on her back had completely healed.

“We’re being followed.” Tang whispered.

“Yep.”

Quella slowed as the men approached the outskirts of the town. He allowed more room between himself and his objective. He settled across the street when the men entered a stable and waited. And waited. And waited. Was there a back way out? Quella approached the livery and slowly pushed open the large door. It was hard to see and he slipped inside waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

“Quella?”

The young man turned toward the voice. “Bris?”

“Thought you’d be with your pals celebrating your good fortune or on your way to another village to plunder of its citizenry.”

Quella dropped his head. “No.”

Tang and Bris grabbed the young man by each arm and pulled him to the back of the stable pushing him onto a bale of hay. “So,” Bris sat on another bale across from the now shaking young man, “what’s the idea following us?”

“You don’t understand.”

Tang stood beside Quella and hissed, “Explain it to us so we do understand.”

The young man blurted out the words, “I made a big mistake,” he broke down and sobbed as the two former gladiators looked on in surprise.
 
 

Copyright 1999 by  Frances Spinella
All Rights Reserved.

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