Chapter 1
Out of the few things I could remember, being a slave was one of them. I could remember the exact day when it happened. I was only 7 years old. I remember the way the air smelt in my home village of Conarch in Cimmeria. My mother had sent me out of the house to fetch Arrowroot flowers in the valley. As I reached down and gripped the stem of the purple flowers and began to pry them from the earth, I began to hear the rumble of trudging feet across the valley. It felt as fierce as an earthquake, and as deadly as a bull. I stood up and looked over the freshly blanketed hills of snow to see a large group of burly, tan men, carrying black iron chains. And the man who was leading them, was the man who doomed my life to tyranny and slavework for the years to come.
He was a pudgy man, with big round lips and black as night sky eyes. His head was wrapped in a turban, and his pelvis was covered with a dirty white loincloth. I was so young and so petrified, I watched the men in awe, march across the valley, like fire in a forest. As they neared, I began to step backward, ready to run back to the village if they happened to catch a glimpse of me. But I was too slow in my attempts to run. The fat man had seen me, and with a swift point of the finger, he ordered the men to capture me. Chains and shackles in hand, the men began to walk towards me. I turned around and ran as fast as I could. But I was so match for them. Before I knew it, I had heavy irons clamped around my hands and feet, and I was dragged through the snow, back to the pudgy man.
"Bow before Saddur, my new slave." The man said. His voice was rough, and clearly had a Stygian accent. I hesitated, so frightened and confused. No one had ever addressed like that before. He reached out for my hair and gave a sharp tug, pulling me close to his face. There he stared, eye to eye with me.
"When I order you to do something, slave, it means do it. Now tell me what your name is, before you further elevate my anger." Said Saddur. As he breathed, I could smell the rancid odor of rum on his breath. I was so scared, that for a moment, I had almost forgotten my own name. In a meek voice, I muttered, "Taurtha." He pushed me away, and with a single gesture, the men took me to Aquilonia, where they loaded me and hundreds of other men and women of all ages onto a large slave cargo ship.
Living on the slave ship was the worst thing I had endured at that age. There were elderly people being killed for not working hard enough, and then impaled on spears, and displayed on the docks of the boat, to warn people of the consequences of being lazy. And young children, such as myself, being whipped and thrown around as if we were rag dolls. As soon as we got to Stygia, we were all unloaded and put straight to hard labor. Us children mined in the Khopshef province mountains, while the older men and women were forced to carry goods to the cities without carts or wagons. We did this, under the stifling Stygian sun, until I was 14 years old.
I remember what they did to us, as soon as we got smart enough to runaway. They took got iron and branded us with Saddur's symbol, a pyramid with a serpent. They branded us, so that if we ever tried to run away and someone caught us, we would be sent back, only to be met by the stinger of death. By Crom, how many nights I had dreamt of being free. Being able to run through the Cimmerian vallies that I once played in as a young child. Picking flowers with my play friends, and helping my dear mother with cooking our supper. But those days were long gone. Forever lost, with the ocean waves.
Soon after the spring of my 14th birthday, my role as a slave had changed. I was no longer a miner, but replaced as a harlot for the slave owners. Saddur had never actually violated me, but had made attempts to kiss me and touch me in forbidden ways. Even though I was condemned to stuffing Saddur's fat face with sugar covered fruit and meats, I was treated slightly better than when I mined in the mountains. I slept on soft bedding and had the pleasure of being able to fan myself with palm leaves if I felt overheated, or eat the leftover fruits off of the serving trays. Nonetheless, I was a slave. And I would be beaten without reason, when Saddur would from back from the taverns, drunk and beligerant.
Little did I know, that my 15th year would be the end of my slave life, and the birth of a new life, as a free woman.