Chapter 2:
Enslavement
The sun
blazed brightly overhead. The heat beat down onto the bodies of Dakisuma and
the other slaves as they watched the cruelty of the game. Their masters sat in
the shaded stadium above, drinking wine and laughing at the scene below them.
His master Harold locked his eyes on the two combatants as they prepared to
fight like savages to the death.
The
first combatant was Brent, a short and stout with lean muscle. He was Harold’s
strongest fighter and was only about the age of fifteen. He favored the long
ranged spear over any other weapon and had become quite adept in its use. He
stood on the left side of the arena, just underneath the seat of his master.
The
other was Sabin, a servant to Daryl. Unlike Brent, Sabin was small and wiry.
This wasn’t a disadvantage though, because what he lacked in strength he made
up for in speed and cunning. His short blade allowed him to swing his strikes
faster and more efficiently than that of a heavy sword which would weigh down
his arms.
The
owner of the stadium called down to the contestants in his deep voice that
called the attention of everyone in the room. He said, “Make this a good fight and
the god of battle shall award thee greatly when you have fallen to the better
fighter. Now show us the glory of battle. “
And
with that the fight started. Dakisuma’s breath slowed as he watched the
fighters slowly circle around each other, both waiting for the chance to
strike. All watched in silence, anticipating the carnage. Brent positioned himself with his legs spread
apart for stability as he gripped his spear with both of his hands. With a quick jerk he thrust his spear at a
Sabin just scratching his side. Sabin winced as the blood seeped from the small
wound, but quickly returned with his own attack. He swung his blade at Brent’s
neck only narrowly missing his mark as Brent leapt backward. Sabin resisted the
urge to clutch his side knowing that the slightest misjudgment would end his
life.
Above the fight the other slave
owners began whispering to each other, making bets and attempting to predict
which would be the victor. Most voted in favor of Brent, but there was a strong
following for Sabin as well. Harold and Daryl watched intently as their slaves
battled for their profit.
Sabin took a nimble step towards
Brent and swung his blade across his chest. Brent screamed as the cold steel
split open part of his chest. He then retaliated beating Sabin’s face with his
fist. Sabin sprawled onto the floor and
dropped to his sword. Brent acted instinctively and struck at Sabin who
narrowly rolled out of danger and leapt to his feet.
Sweat poured from their bodies as
they again stood facing each other, both attempting to anticipate the next
attack. The crowd in the stands cheered loudly, except for the other slaves who
watched in silent horror. As the crowd grew silent the breathing of both Brent
and Sabin could be heard across the arena.
The air was broken when Brent
suddenly charged at Sabin with his spear thrusting at an astonishing
speed. Again Sabin was able to nimbly
avoid most of the attacks sustaining only a few minor scrapes on his arms and
legs. Sabin then threw his body at Brent and tackled him to the ground. They
struggled upon the ground fighting for dominance with Sabin on top. Brent
wiggled his legs until his feet were planted firmly upon Sabin’s chest and
pushed with all of his might sending Sabin across the room. Sabin landed upon
his back and noticed his sword was within reach of his left hand. Brent felt
the adrenalin surge through his veins as he leapt to his feet as quickly as he
could. He then saw Sabin reaching for his sword, he knew he would only have a
mere moment to react or he would not survive. He rushed to attack Sabin while
he was down, and then felt an agonizing pain as Sabin’s sword pierced deeply
into his chest.
Dakisuma felt his jaw drop as he
watched Brent drop to the floor as he fainted from the pain. The crowd erupted
in shock at the victory of the underdog, some in anger at the loss of their
wagers, and others in in wild joy. From across the stadium Dakisuma could see
his master’s outrage at the defeat.
Harold then whispered to his body guard who sat next to him before he
quickly left the arena. Two men then came to the cage where all of the slaves
were being held and opened the gate. Dakisuma’s heart leapt into his throat as
he hoped not to be the next to be thrown into the battle. The guards quickly
glanced over him, but then selected another slave to be sent into the arena. The
slave attempted to pull away from the guards, but was easily over powered and
dragged to his doom.
For
three years Dakisuma had narrowly avoided being tossed into the arena, instead
he was forced to watch the carnage. Harold constantly ordered him and Pask, the
only other slave Harold now owned, to practice their combat skills. With Brent
now dead both he and Pask would be forced to fight in the tournaments. Today
was not to be that day for Harold’s guard came to reclaim both Pask and
Dakisuma from the holding area.
Dakisuma
and Pask were bound together by the wrists and led outside of the arena to meet
with their master. Harold’s eyes were full of rage, “when we return to my home
we will have to increase your training. I expect that at least one of you will
be able to replace Brent in the next competition as my prime fighter. Do not
disappoint me, or it will mean your sudden end to your life by the hand of your
next opponent!” Dakisuma felt a chill run down his spine. Harold then led them
through the narrow streets of the giant city.
The
city was the largest on the Island spanning from the Red River that separated
the Thav desert from the Plains of the King, to the northern shore. A great
wall surrounded the city, both protecting it from the outside and keeping the
numerous numbers of slaves inside. The guards were on watch, keeping slaves
obedient and harassing them with constant threats and violence. Slaves that
were caught either resisting their masters or breaking laws were beaten until
they were broken if they were lucky, and repeated offenders were publically
slaughtered in a multitude of fashions.
They
lived close to the center of the city in the neighborhood of the lower-class
nobles. Dakisuma and Pask were led into the decorative home and then thrown
into their dungeon cells in the basement. The doors locked behind them and then
they were alone. Dakisuma sat upon his dingy pile of blankets that he used for
his bedding and stared at the cold stone walls. Sunlight poured in from the
small vents at the top of the hallway between the two cells. Silence filled the room and remained unbroken
for over an hour. The afternoon heat slowly pored inside and Dakisuma wrapped
his thin shirt over his black air to keep the sweat from his blue eyes. He stared into the light and wondered what it
would be like to play in the grassy fields again.
Then Dakisuma
could no longer stand the silence, he screamed at the top of his lungs and beat
his fist against the walls. Pask was broken from his trance and fixed his eyes
on his friend. “We need to stay calm. The next competition won’t happen for at
least another month. Brent won almost nine battles today. The earnings should
line Harold’s pockets long enough for the both of us to learn how to hold our
own in the arena.”
“That’s
not what we need!” shouted Dakisuma. “I have been calm for the last three years
doing everything you have told me to do to keep me out of the battle! I’m sick
and tired of sitting here like cattle waiting for the slaughter. I want to get
out of here!”
“As do
I, but there is nothing that we can do. We’re stuck in these games. Our only
hope for living is to learn how to avoid the dangerous fights and learn how to
deal with weaker opponents.”
“That’s
not living! At least Brent had the courage to stand and fight. Meanwhile you
and I have sat here praying that we will be able to eat these tiny meals and
rest on a few blankets!”
Pask
sat in silence for a few moments and rubbed his temples. After he took a few
deep breaths he replied, “Your right. We do need to get out of this basement
and out of this city. We need to come up with some kind of a plan. We won’t get
far if we act like the other slaves who picked the locks on their doors and
tried to climb the walls that are lined with archers.”
“Then
what can we do?” Dakisuma asked impatiently.
“We
watch and learn. There might be a way we can get out, but it won’t be obvious
or easy…” At that moment they heard the lock turn at the top of the stairs and
shut their mouths tightly. Footsteps echoed as Harold’s guard approached down
the corridor. In his hand he held both a broom and a feather duster. He
unlocked both cells and shoved the duster into Dakisuma’s hand. Dakisuma looked
at the guard with fire in his eyes, but did nothing. The guard stood almost seven
feet tall and was overwhelmingly stronger than Dakisuma. A few times when he
had first become Harold’s servant he had defied the guard, but had only
received harsh punishment. His back was filled with scars from Harold’s fire
that he was able to summon with his hands.
“Harold
wants you to dust his library. He says that cobwebs are beginning to form on a
few of his shelves.” Dakisuma nodded and marched up the stairwell into the main
part of the house. He walked past the hallway filled with the fine craft ware
that Harold had filled his hallways with into the library. There were several
shelves all packed with books that had grown a thin layer of dust, except for
the shelf that Harold seemed to use the most often only had dust on a few
books.
No comments:
Post a Comment