It
was several hours later when the group had finally emptied their
final mug of ale, and passed around Dolven’s pipe one last
time. The aromatic tobacco battled the pleasant smell of Tyla’s
soup cauldron, now sitting cold and empty near the dying fire. Dolven
finished tapping the tobacco residue from his pipe, and wrapped
it into the folds of his tunic.
“Well now my boy,
that was a welcome escape from the day” he sighed, sitting
back with a contented smile upon his face. Aidden grinned in agreement.
It was nights like this, with his friends around and a hearty meal
consumed that they were all able to forget the toils of their life,
the hard work, the fact that they were all slaves. Gurdor grunted
as he rose from his seat to feed the fire, now glowing amber with
coals.
“It’s more
the meal from our fine cook than the comforts of this hovel”
he smiled, adding several logs to the coals. “Who could guess
that we should all wind up the close friend of one our gracious
Lords’ personal cooks”? The group chuckled. He was of
course, referring to Tyla, whose designated specialty was to cook
for Lord Hayden in the fortress. Oftentimes she would whip something
up for her friends, and from time to time even managed to sneak
some of the finer cuts of meat from Dondel mouths.
“Regardless!”
Kildor announced, raising his glass “I would like to propose
a toast to our gracious and wonderful host, who will now promptly
set about the task of refilling my mug!” Aidden scoffed, throwing
his napkin at the man sitting across the table.
“I’ve no more ale to offer you free-loading bastards!
You’ve drank a man out of house and ho-“ A knock on
the door interrupted his speech, and all heads turned. Bouncing
from her chair, Tyla stepped to the door and opened it to reveal
Dalen, an acquaintance of them all from the time of their youth,
but never more than that. His eyes were wide with excitement and
he stepped quickly past Tyla into the hut.
“They’ve
caught someone! They’re going to subject him to correction!”
He gushed – gesturing first to Aidden and then the group when
he realized he had an audience. A silence hung throughout the hut
as each member paused to consider Dalen’s words. As the seconds
passed, so too did the warmth and joviality the group had worked
so hard to escape into.
“And what then
should we do Dalen, rush ourselves over to the pit and cheer?!”
Gurdor scoffed, standing from the fire and approaching the new guest
with anger on his face. “I won’t give those dirty bastards
the pleasure! They have me during the day, they can tell me what
to do and how to do it – but I will not justify their abuse
of my people by providing an audience to it!” With that he
stopped short, leaving less than a foot between the two men. Dalen
shrank back a pace, turning instead to Aidden and the others.
“Nevertheless, it has been ordered that we all must attend
this time – Lord Hayden wishes to address the slav-“
“Don’t call me that you dolt!” growled Dolven.
Dalen continued, stepping backwards again, this time towards the
door.
“He wishes to address the Nical population before the correction…
I believe they will all check to be sure we are there!” Gardon
slammed his empty mug of ale upon the table, catching the attention
of all in the hut.
“Let them check –“he hissed. “I will not
be found among the group… and if it bothers my gracious master…
then let him come address me at the splendid home he has provided!”
Tyla moved from her place at the door, towards her cloak hanging
nearby.
“Nevertheless,
I will go…” she stated flatly. “…to see
who it is that may be left without a father, or husband”.
With that, she slid her cloak over her shoulders and stepped from
the hut. Aidden sighed, feeling a wave of nausea rise from the pit
of his stomach.
“Someone should
go with Tyla, and for that reason alone…” He sighed
again, pausing next to his own cloak. Such corrections were nothing
he relished experiencing, although he had seen his fair share. “I’ll
see you all later – feel free to stay and relax – I’ll
talk to you all when I return”. Kildor followed Aidden, and
accompanied him with Dalen out of the hut towards Tyla and Lord
Hayden.
It was a modest crowd
that gathered at the correctional mound - A simple structure standing
atop the 10-foot mount of earth and rock. It featured a platform
overhanging a large pit in its center, with several columns holding
bright torches of fire at their pinnacle. Below the platform, the
usually dark and silent pit now raged with plumes of black smoke
from an enormous fire.
Lord Hayden surveyed those in attendance with a growing sense of
frustration and indignation. “Who do these people think they
are to ignore my direct orders!” he thought angrily, rubbing
imaginary stubble on his face. He looked over to the Nical man in
captivity, brought forward for the theft of several tools from his
station in the blacksmith shops. Normally, the punishment for such
a crime was branding… but with the pressure being put on him
lately… Suddenly, Lord Hayden jerked his hand from his face
to his side, resolving that he would make sure those present brought
back a strong message to their friends and family.
“Nicals! You have
been called here because of my order, and I will address you with
my message”. Lord Hayden stepped closer to edge of the platform
on which he stood, raising his voice as he continued. “You
have all heard of the great castles being built in the northern
mountains. These mighty fortresses are to further the Dondel claim
- reaching out of our blessed home from the Phoenix Mountains in
the east and into this backwards and brutish land in the west. It
is for that reason that some of you have found yourselves transferred
from your usual jobs to the stone quarry. I expect nothing but your
absolute obedience during the time you are assigned there! It is
during these next months that we will attempt to meet the quotas
put upon us by our King!” Turning slightly, Hayden grabbed
a spear from a nearby Dondel soldier. He then walked a pace away
from the platform edge, turning suddenly on his heel to face the
crowd once more.
To ensure that you will
meet the demands set upon me by our King, the Lord Hacenyth will
compliment me by visiting this small fortress from his home up north.
He is to be the King of the Northern Dondel Realm, as our King Cutio
is King of the South. You will act obediently and work harder than
you ever have in all of your miserable little lives during his stay…
or I will see to it that your are dealt with - properly!”
With that Hayden turned to the soldiers holding the Nical slave,
running the tip of his spear quickly across his throat as he stepped
down off the platform and towards his coach, waiting to take him
back to the fortress.
A wicked smile passed over the face of the Dondel soldiers dragging
their captive towards the platform’s edge. Dull-eyed and emotionless,
it was clear that the slave had experienced a sleepless night, his
face was bruised from obvious torture and he stood numb to the world
around him. Dondel soldiers stood him up by the edge of the platform,
overhanging the now furious flames below. Nearby sat a long pole
with it’s brand sitting red-hot in the coals at the bottom
of the pit. Another Dondel soldier stepped towards the brand, but
instead grabbed a battle-axe lying next to it.
The crowd let out a collective
gasp of horror as they realized the new fate of their comrade. A
scattered array of cries and moans rose above the rest as the soldier
approached his prey, but the slave’s dull gaze showed no account
of what was taking place. In one fluid move, the warrior arched
his axe-head upward under the prisoners chin and above his shoulders,
sending the man’s head catapulting into the air and then into
the pit below. Aidden felt Tyla’s grasp on his arm dramatically
tighten. Until now, both of them had seen and lived through many
of the harsh realities of slavery, but neither of them had ever
witnessed the kind of public murder placed before them today.
Gloating with satisfaction,
the ax-bearer threw his weapon to the ground and turned away while
the two soldiers holding the mans decapitated body quickly threw
his corpse into the flames below, one cursing at the splashes of
blood on his chain mail. The other Dondel warriors followed their
lead and before long, the mound and it’s platform were empty,
with only the crackling flames in the pit below breaking a stunned
and eerie silence.
