Darkness Falls (Tales of the Wolf) (14 page)

As the hours passed, it is obvious that the Minotaurs were closing. Two of the vast ships had broken off to chase the other slave ships but that meant there were still three ships behind them. The slaver trireme was actually much faster in short distances than the Minotaur’s ships but this was not a sprint. It was a long drawn out chase and the rowers were exhausted. Left to sail power, it was just a matter of time. When Xiphos finally called for the rowers to ship oars, pull them in, one of the Minotaur’s ships was dead astern stealing their wind and the Sklavin’s speed had dropped to almost nil.

Xiphos called out. “Prepare for boarders!”

When the huge Minotaur ship was less than fifty feet away, its bow swung hard to port and exposed its broadside to the Sklavin’s stern. Dozens of grappling hooks and lines came flying out to snag the crippled slave ship. Even as the pirates struggled to cut the lines, boarders came swinging across.

*    *    *    *    *

Gray and Raz watched the impending battle with mixed emotions. They were slaves now, a commodity that others traded like candy. The slavers were the demons they knew, the minotaurs the devil they didn’t know. Which would be worse for the children? 

When the first boarders landed on the deck of the Sklavin, they got their first good look at a Minotaur. Of course, they had heard stories of the Ox-men. They had the body of huge muscular men that stood nearly seven feet tall. However, their heads were that of long horned oxen while any females had short horns and stunningly formed bodies. Neither wore much for clothing, just leather straps to cover some of the more personal areas and bands of metal on their arms to denote rank. They were fierce warriors and shrewd traders but nowhere in the stories were they cruel or petty. As the chosen followers of Minos the War God, strength of character and personal honor were highly regarded within their society.

As the battle was joined, Gray knew that this was his chance. Grabbing Raz, he signaled that the halfling should follow him and they made their way to the stern of the Sklavin.

Raz had no idea what his friend had planned but trusted that Gray had a plan. He always had a plan.

Gray judged the distance to the Minotaur vessel. He guessed that it was less than ten feet and there was an open porthole about twelve feet up. Looking around, he could tell it was only a matter of time before the pirates fell to the blades of the minotaurs or called for a truce. He needed to make his move…now.

Grabbing his friend, Gray gave him a big hug. “Whatever you do, survive.”

Raz leaned back and gave his friend an odd look. “What?”

“Live free.” Gray grabbed a hold of Raz’s tunic and silently whispered for enough strength for what he was about to do and the Spirit of the Bear heard him. Spinning around one time, Gray threw him across the gap to land onboard the
minotaur ship.

Hearing the pounding of running feet, the half-elf turned back to find two slavers charging him. He did not even hesitate, Gray went on the attack. The slavers had never faced a child with the deadly skills and hidden power that the Chosen One had and it was over quickly. Scooping up the fallen weapons, Gray continued his attack. Slaver, Pirate or Longhorn, he did not care. If they got in his path, he killed them. Each death put him that much closer to his true target, Kralm Soleus.

The half-orc spied him, pulled free his father’s spear and waited.

Gray leapt over several fallen pirates to reach his goal, the chief slaver.

Spear versus cutlass. It was not much of a contest.

Kralm was an expert with his weapon. As skilled and motivated as Gray was, he was no match for the slaver. The half-orc executed a blinding disarm maneuver followed by thump to his head that the half-breed never even saw coming, nor did he care as the cloak of unconsciousness took him.

Chapter 15

When Gray woke up, he found that he could not move due to the fact that he was lashed to the main mast. Looking around, he could tell that time had passed since the Sklavin was back underway. The grey-skinned half-orc was sitting a few feet away and calmly studying him. Gray tried to swallow but his throat was parched and his lips felt chapped. After a moment, he managed to croak, “What…what happened?”

Kralm nodded to the pirate captain. “Xiphos is a fool. He went into battle knowing that he was going to lose. Not only did he have to pay the tribute but he lost twenty-five slaves and seventeen crewmen to the Longhorns. Not to mention, the lost time and damage to his ship. And don’t get me started talking about morale. He is not a very good commander nor is he very efficient.”

Gray tried to wet his lips but just did not have the saliva. “Why are you telling me this?”

Kralm shrugged. “Simple. I like you. You have the spirit and guts that I’m looking for.”

“I will never serve you.”

Kralm grinned. It was not a pleasant sight. “Oh yes you will…eventually. Either you will serve me or you will die in the process.”

“Why? What do you want with us?”

Once again, Kralm grinned. “It is my dream. One day I might tell you about it. That is, if you’re strong enough to live through the next few days. I suspect that it is not your destiny to die here…but I could be wrong.”

The master slaver turned and went below deck to get out of the hot afternoon sun.

Gray could not help but notice that hardly anyone was on deck. And it was hot, much hotter than any other time on their journey. Unknown to him, they had crossed line and were now in the southern hemisphere of Terreth.

“He’s right you know.” Came an unknown voice from somewhere behind him.

Gray strained to look over his shoulders but the lashes were too tight to do anything else. He heard a thud, drag pattern of walking scant seconds before a wizened old man with a wooden peg leg in place of his right leg, a hook for his hand, a right eye patch and a heavily scarred face.

“I said he’s right about that last part. You are destined for greater things than just the life of a simple slave.”

Gray tried to wet his lips again. “Who…who are you?”

The battered old sailor lifted up a bucket of water with his hooked hand and ladled out some water for Gray to drink. “Me? I’m nobody. They call me Usil but that isn’t my real name, not that it matters. I missed my chance at greatness.”

Gray felt the coolness of the water as it flowed down his parched throat. Almost immediately, he felt his strength and determination returning. “Thanks.”

“No matter. Beware of the easy route. Many think that the easy route will lead them to greatness. But what if the easy route is naught but a ruse? One that will lead you to ruin?” Usil thrust his pegged leg and hook forward. “Look at me. I took the easy route. I wanted riches and fortune and this is what happened. I had a chance at greatness and turned my back on it because the course ahead was too hard.”

Gray shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Usil chuckled and walked out of view. “Survive and you will….you will.”

*    *    *    *    *

After the second day, Gray lost all track of time. Day blended into night and the cold dark nights became hot bright days. The sailors and slaves avoided him like the plague. Usil was the only person who would even acknowledge his existence.

Every day shortly before Highsun, the crippled old sailor would show up, rub some foul smelling salve on his face, give him water and a tasteless wafer. It was not a lot but it was enough to keep him alive. But more than that, the old man’s interaction and words of encouragement kept him sane, not that he really understood all the old man talked about. He always seemed to be talking in riddles but then, it was not what he said but the sound of his voice that gave Gray strength.

One morning, Usil showed up early and fed him a sweet honey-like biscuit. That was strange enough but while Gray was eating the cracker, the old man caressed his forehead and muttered something in a strange language that he did not understand. Although, he was certain he had heard similar words before but from whom or when, he could not remember.

Usil leaned up and whispered in his ear, “Remember…don’t just survive, learn and grow. Your destiny awaits.”

Once again, there was a familiarity in his words but Gray could not recall anything else. That was when he noticed that the ship was no longer moving. Gray blinked and tried to focus on his surroundings. Yes, the ship had docked and the grey-skinned half-orc slaver was standing in front of him. He was certain that Kralm had asked him a question but he did not have a clue what it was, so he just grunted.

“Very good. You’re alive. It might shock you but that pleases me.”

When Gray tried to speak, his voice was rough and unused. “Yes it does. I survived only to spite you. That and because of the wonderful care of Usil.”

“Who?”

Gray looked around at the sailors on deck. There was not anyone that remotely resembled the pegged-legged pirate. “The old man you had looking after me.”

Kralm frowned. “No one has gone near you for two weeks on pain of death.”

“But that’s impossible.”

Kralm cut the leather straps that were still holding him to the main mast. “I assure you, I’ve had men watching you all day long and no one has been near you. I’ve had reports of your constant ramblings. It seems to have happened mostly at highsun but honestly, that isn’t unusual for your punishment.”

“But it seemed so real,” Gray mumbled. He was unsteady on his feet as he tried to stand on his own. Two of the half-orc’s mercenaries grabbed him up roughly and dragged him to the long line of slaves. Of the two-hundred and twelve children that had started the journey on the Sklavin, there were only one-hundred and thirty-six left alive and Gray was chained at the very rear.

As they started marching, Gray looked over the line and noticed that the largest group to survive was his group, the youngest kids. Although he made the mental note that Garoth had also survived. That was also when he made the sad realization that they were the last two from his village to make it this far. Abban had died in route, Raz had escaped, the two baker boys had either died or been traded as tribute while he was lashed to the main mast. Kariah and Annabelle had been killed during their botched rescue attempt. The memory of seeing the blade slide across Anna’s throat came to the forefront of his mind again.

A flash of pain rolled over his back as one of the slavers had noticed that he had his head up and decided to remind him of the proper posture of a slave with a crack of his whip. Luckily for Gray, the slaver had just wanted to get his attention and not actually hurt him. He had seen how much damage that a barbed whip could do and he was not looking forward to feeling its sting.

Lowering his head, Gray assumed the defeated posture of a slave and concentrated on keeping pace with the rest of the slaves. To keep his mind sharp and chase away the painful memories, he studied the strange landscape. The land was bleak, rocky and barren. He did notice hills in the distance and could see the smoke of campfires, lots of campfires.

Sometime around midday, they entered a wooden palisade fort. The smell of unwashed bodies, mixed with
feces was almost overwhelming. One by one, the slaves were unhooked from the long chain but not from the shackles. These were left on and the chains were reattached to their collars, which allowed each slave some movement, but they would always be at a disadvantage. It was logical actually. Gray counted nearly six-hundred slaves, men, women and children and only about fifty slavers. If all the slaves worked together, the slavers would be easily overrun. Nevertheless, with the constant reminder around their necks and hands, these unfortunate souls were already defeated.

Gray sensed this when a burly slaver pushed his way through the mass of slaves and found a young woman to his liking, grabbed her up and dragged her off. Not a single slave, man, woman or child made a move or said a word. It was obvious that she had been family to at least two of the men; brothers, cousins or husband. They did nothing as she was dragged out and raped right in front of them.

As night fell, the slavers returned with some moldy bread and porridge for the slaves. It was not much but it was better than nothing. Wearily, the slaves stood in line to get their share. Gray had moved back to the remainder of his group even though he did not really talk with them, he just felt more comfortable with them.

When it was Garoth’s turn to get his food, he wolfed it down before he even stepped away. He gestured to the slaver that he wanted more but the slaver just shook his head and whacked him with the ladle. Garoth walked about five steps and saw an old villager just sitting down to eat his food. Garoth grabbed the bread and shoved it in his mouth. When the old villager tried to object, Garoth just punched him hard and knocked him out. Some of the slaves nearest him laughed and Gray watched silently as he began to recruit his gang from those around him. By the time breakfast rolled around, his gang numbered ten. Garoth would demand half of the food from each villager. Those that tried to refuse had all of their food taken and were beaten senseless.

The slavers just watched and laughed.

Eventually, it was time for the children to eat. Gray calmly stepped forward and took the lead position. Once he had his bowl of food, he was not surprised to find the thugs flanking him creating a passageway between them with Garoth standing at the far end.

The blacksmith’s son grinned. “Well, well, well…is this my lucky day or what?”

“Hello Garoth.”

“Hello half-breed. You have to pay your tribute just like everyone else.”

Gray shook his head and slowly moved toward his rival. “Nope. Not going to happen. Nor will you take food from the rest of the children. They’re under my protection.”

Garoth laughed but once again, it was bravado he did not truly feel. Maybe it was how the half-breed’s cold-grey eyes bored into him or the fact that he was outnumbered and flanked but refused to even acknowledge the threat or the nonchalant way he spoke. Whatever it was, when Gray stopped right in front of him Garoth felt the cold hand of fear gripping his heart but he could not let this half-breed belittle him in front of his men.

“Your protection? That’s funny. Just like Anna was under your protection? We can all see how well that turned out.” Garoth regretted his words as soon as he uttered them.

Gray’s mannerism became colder and his eyes narrowed.

Garoth swallowed hard. “Why? How are you planning on stopping us?”

“If you or your thugs so much as touch one of these kids or take any of their food, I’m going to kill you.”

Garoth laughed and so did his ruffians.

“So, you’re going to kill me if I do this?” Reaching down, Garoth stuck two fingers in the half-breed’s bowl of porridge and scooped up a large portion.

Gray reacted with lightning speed.

Using both hands with fingers pulled back, he struck the larger teenager with both palms under the chin. The force knocked Garoth back a step but Gray did not stop there. Grabbing the shattered chin with one hand, he reached out with the other one, grabbed the back of Garoth’s head, and gave it a hard twist. Everyone in the cage heard the neck pop and the blacksmith’s son was dead before his body hit the dirt.

Nobody moved.

Calmly, Gray reached down and picked up his bread and bowl. Dusting off the bread, he began eating it as he stepped over the corpse and moved through the crowd. No one spoke to him but then, no one attacked him or took food from the children either.

*    *    *    *    *

The next morning the slavers came in and removed Garoth’s body. Soon after, they began the task of dividing up the slaves or at least selecting certain slaves. All the children, boys and girls between the ages of ten and fifteen were gathered up and lead away from the slave camp by Kralm.

As they came out of the hills, Gray could tell that they were heading east into a vast desert from the position of the sun. For ten days, they traveled east and not once did they spy another living soul. They did see numerous bones
of those that had fallen by the wayside on previous trips through the desert. Their bones bleached white by the blistering sun and blowing sands. It was a sobering fact to realize that even if they escaped, only the food and water carried by the slavers kept them alive.

On the eleventh day, they reached the Scar.

The Scar was a large gash-like canyon in the middle of the Dune Sea. Legends state that it was created by Nox the Evil One, one of the original creator gods, after an argument she had with her children. It was supposedly so deep that it touched on the lowest region of the Subterreth, the Infernous.

The grey-skinned half-orc slaver led the slaves into an ancient stone fortress that had been built on the very edge of the Scar. Once everyone was in the courtyard and the gates were closed behind them, Kralm stepped to the front and signaled the guards.

“From this day forward, there are no shackles.”

The slavers moved through the children and removed the shackles, not just the chains,
the shackles. Only the iron collar was left behind as a simple reminder of their station.