Hi, I'm amazingmicrowave. This is my first fanfic so be nice and I hope you enjoy.

The wasteland that rimmed Sachaka was a harsh place and could be fatal to those without magic. This was especially clear to Aleka as she wiped a damp cloth over the wounded slave's forehead. He had fallen from a ridge two days beforehand and his wounds had become infected. He had collapsed that morning and it was becoming increasingly unlikely that he would survive.

Aleka gently lifted a bandage from a wound on his arm. The wound was deep and the bone broken. Aleka had done her best but the wound had putrefied and the smell alone made her feel ill. Her master had given her the task of caring for the man and she knew she would be beaten if he did not live. Slaves with magical potential were hard to come by.

She heard footsteps coming from the entrance to the cave. She caught her breath when she caught sight of her master. She dropped her gaze and bowed deeply.

He ignored her and walked over to the wounded man. The man was barely conscious. "Master", he croaked feebly. The look on her master's face was something close to disgust.

He turned to her.

"Will he live?" he asked coldly.

"I, em, I- I don't", she stuttered, startled by the question.

"Tell me, slave! Will he live?" he yelled.

"I doubt it, master" Aleka said, timidly staring at her feet.

An unseen force hit her, knocking the breath from her lungs and knocking her backwards. Her head struck the wall and everything blurred. The force pushed against her, pressing her against the wall. The force shifted so it was pressing against her throat, strangling her. Her arms were pinned by her sides.

"I told you to make him better," her master yelled, "how dare you disobey me!"

"I'm sorry, master", she choked.

His expression softened till he looked almost sympathetic but she knew better than to believe that such a man was capable of sympathy for a mere slave.

He leaned closer.

"Your mother was troublesome too. You remember what happened to her, don't you?"

The force released her and she collapsed to the ground, gasping and coughing.

"Yes, master", she managed between coughs.

"Now", he said, turning away from her, "I had best deal with this one".

She watched helplessly as he drew his blade and slit the wounded slave's throat. The slave struggled desperately and sputtered on his own blood, then went rigid as her master pressed his hand against the wound. When her master finally turned to leave, the wounded man lay still. His eyes stared lifelessly at her.

Her master wiped blood from his hands with a rag and dropped it beside her.

His words were quiet and full of warning.

"Fail me again, slave, and I might not be so forgiving".

With that he left her alone with the dead man.

When her breathing returned to normal she left the cave. The other slaves were sleeping below an outcrop of rock beside her master's tent. She found a spot and lay down.

She thought about the dead man but felt little sympathy or mourning. When it came down to it, it hadn't been her and that was something to be thankful for. One just had to get used to such things if they hoped to live long.

That was just the way of it in the company of former Ashaki, Morano.