Chapter One – Captured

Akkarin escaped not long after midnight.

It had been surprisingly easy though he had not been able to bring any food with him. The reason simply being that there was nothing to take as the slaves were given very little to eat. Mostly their food consisted of a tasteless porridge made up from coarse flour and water. Occasionally some bread and a little shem were added. But right now hunger – and thirst – did not matter. All that was on his mind was getting away from his Sachakan captor. For ten days he had been held captive at the magician's camp and clearly he was considered nothing but a slave among slaves. He couldn't fathom what he had been through. Being stripped of his robes and given only rags to wear in stead. Ordered to empty night pots or wash clothes, or go searching for food for the "Master".

But the nightmare was over now and he was finally on his way back to the Guild. He looked at the rags he was wearing and shook his head in disbelief. His feet did not look too good either. His boots had been taken from him as well and he was not a man being used to walk around barefooted. Blisters and cuts made his escape harder but he did not care. Not yet.

The night air was cold. In Sachaka there was none to little vegetation to hold on to heat of any kind during the nights and he was grateful that the wind had quieted down. The further away he walked, the calmer he felt. As the sun began to rise in the horizon he felt safe but with this sensation also came awareness of pain from his aching feet as well as hunger and thirst but he did his best to ignore these signs of weakness. His main concern and priority was to get out of the wasteland as quickly as possible.

He considered sending out a mental call for help but decided it was too dangerous as the Sachakan magician or some of his friends might pay attention to it and find him. And he was not certain he had gained enough magical power to be able to send a message either way. Occasionally he looked back but saw no pursuers and was relieved every time. When the sun set, he finally allowed himself to rest. He rested sitting up against a boulder and fell asleep almost immediately out of sheer exhaustion.

"Yip-yip" the sound of a yeel not far away woke him up shortly after. At once, he became fully alert and glanced in all directions. It was difficult to see anything in the darkness and the area he was in consisted of large rock formations and boulders lying around as if having been thrown there by a giant. The yeel barked again – this time closer by. Dakova, the Sachakan magician had had a one of those little animals and dread started to fill his heart. He hid behind the boulder, panic searing through his body hoping that he would not be found. He knew he would not be able to win if it came to an open fight. He was far too weak. Nevertheless, as he was crouching, he went through every possible defence manoeuvres he knew of but in his heart he was acutely aware of the fact that none of his warrior skills were worth anything without magic. All he could hope for was not being discovered.

The attack came without notice from behind and he was flung up in the air and slammed down on the ground. Magic pinned him hard to the ground. Helplessly he watched the magician approach him as a dark shadow. The man pulled out his terrible knife. "So slave, you think you could get away from me"? What little was left of his newly gained power was taken away from him with a swift cut of the knife as the magician drained him of so much power that he nearly lost conscience.

Get up, slave", the magician sneered. Akkarin managed to stumble to his feet and could do nothing as the Sachakan tied his hands together behind his back. Dakova hummed and seemed to be rather pleased about him self. For the first time since his capture, Akkarin felt truly desperate. He had failed. Was there no way out of this? With a shove to his back, he started forward– and continued walking all night closely followed by his silent captor.

Returning to the camp went much faster than getting away from it as they walked in the open landscape. He was devastated at his failure but kept thinking "he will not break me - he cannot and shall not break me".

Early morning they were back. A couple of slaves who saw them approaching regarded them quietly – he tried not to look at them, suddenly realising what an utter fool he had been.

Dakova called out for all of his slaves to gather around him and pulled Akkarin's still tied hands up causing him to stumble forward in a painful humiliating posture.

"Listen to me slaves – No one can escape me", Dakova proclaimed. "I am your Master and you shall watch this disobedient slave receive his punishment so that you will understand that there will be no other future for you but me".

Akkarin felt his mouth go dry. His lips were chipped and he needed something to drink desperately. But in stead he found himself being taken to a pole where his hands were cut loose only to be tied firmly once more this time above his head. He was standing with his face towards the crowd who eyed him nervously. Dakova approached him smiling. It was a knowing smile of triumph but Akkarin returned his smile with an unwavering defiant stare.

Then a violent beating began. Some of the slaves had to look away but Akkarin did not notice. Dakova didn't use magic. He simply used his fists to hit Akkarin hard in his ribs and face and stomach. Akkarin could not help but groaning when ever he received a blow to his stomach but managed not to utter a real cry, all the time focusing his thoughts on only this; "He shall not break me – not me. I am a Guild magician. I am Lord Akkarin of house Velan". When the beating finally ended Akkarin let out a shuddering sigh of pain and relief. His entire inner body felt crushed and he could feel and taste the blood running down his face.

Dakova had some of the slaves fetch food and wine and sat down in front of Akkarin not really paying attention to him, enjoying the meal as if this was just an ordinary break in a normal day's routine.

Then he abruptly got up and went back to Akkarin and slapped him hard in the face. For some reason this felt more humiliating than the beating. Akkarin clenched his jaws and lifted his face to stare back at the brute. Once again he received a hard slap in his face. This went on several times when Dakova suddenly strode away leaving Akkarin hanging by the pole for what seemed an eternity. The slaves stood about in a half circle. No one made a sound or dared make a move. The sun baked down and a mix of sweat and blood poured into his eyes and made it hard for him to see clearly. So he closed his eyes and waited.

The silent wait was terrifying and his heart started beating awkwardly as he slowly began to feel fear. He was exhausted beyond beliefs and his mind seemed to stay off focus.

When Dakova returned an hour later, it was with a thin stick in his hand. He stood in front of Akkarin once again smiling scornfully at him. Akkarin tried to return his stare but it was difficult to appear defiant and in control with his body throbbing from pain and his cheeks burning from the slapping. Hunger, thirst and pure exhaustion had done their work and by now he could not help but fearing the next step of the insane man and he was afraid it showed.

Dakova had two slaves cut Akkarin down and told them to tie his arms to a low boulder leaving Akkarin on his knees with his hands on top of the boulder. When the thin stick came slamming down on his hands it hurt like nothing he had ever felt before and as the hitting continued and blood starting showing on his molested hands and lower arms, tears welled up in his eyes. He didn't even realise he was screaming out in pain before it was much too late to stop it. Then he finally lost conscience.

A bucket of water was emptied out on him and Dakova pulled his head up by grapping his hair "So who is your Master now, slave? He didn't recognize his own trembling faint voice when he heard his reply "You are, Master".

He was untied and dragged to the big tent he had been told to sleep in with the other slaves. There he passed out.

At night someone turned him gently over. It was a woman. She placed his head in her lap and gave him a little to drink. "Don't drink it too fast" she whispered. Then she gave him a little porridge and began to wash him gently. The bruises on his face were not as bad as they looked she told him. His lips would probably heal up alright. He had not lost any teeth nor broken his nose. When it came to one of his eye brows however, she needed to sew it. She picked up a needle already prepared for the job and told him to lie still. It hurt but she was skilled and the whole thing was quickly over.

She took his molested hands in hers and rinsed them carefully. Then she gently rubbed them with a foul smelling ointment that stung. A low moan escaped his mouth and she instantly placed a finger on his lips telling him to be quiet.

"You will only make him want to start all over with you again – let him forget you for at least a couple of days so that you may heal", she whispered. Then she wound strings of cloth around his hands. She examined his ribs and told him, he had been lucky "You haven't broken more than two of your rib bones – they will heal eventually". She made him sit up partially and carefully wrapped a long piece of cloth tightly around his waist "This will support you – try to avoid lifting anything heavy" she continued. "But you must find something to do so as our Master will not be dissatisfied with you. Go to Takan who cooks for our master. He can make you do tasks that will not require too much of your strength. I will have a word with him tomorrow.

"Our Master…" He felt the need to cry and silently she stroked his hair and gently rocked him back and forth whispering comforting words into his ear. The burning in his eyes stopped but inside he kept crying and his heart and throat were aching. After a little while he turned his head to watch her in silence. Her skin was golden brown, her hair long and dark. Her eyes were big and slightly slanted. She was beautiful.

She looked down at him and smiled. "You will be alright – our Master will be pleased with you again – don't you worry about that", she whispered. Her words made him feel like crying again because he knew he had to worry about just that. He was a slave now. But instead of crying, he closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to fall asleep in her arms.

The next day he was left alone in the tent. The woman came by once with more water and food. Though she clearly could not heal, whatever she had done to his hands was working. They did not hurt nearly as much as they should have. In the late evening she came by again and repeated the treatment and then left giving him a small smile on the way out. He nodded to her in gratitude and gave her a little smile back.

Late that night, Dakova suddenly shouted at him: "Get out of the tent, guild slave". He rose with difficulty and went outside. Dakova stood with his knife and Akkarin kneeled to his Master, bended his head as he has seen the other slaves do and handed out his arm. The cut and the drain were quickly over. Then Dakova placed his hands on Akkarin's head and once again Akkarin was truth read. Finally Dakova grunted something and left.

He thought about the woman. He had not seen her in the slaves' quarters before. When he asked one of the other slaves about her, the only reply he got was a sneer of disgust. The cook Takan did not say much either. He just nodded at his arrival and told him to help him prepare the vegetables and other similar tasks. So he kept quiet and saw no signs of her.

After a week he was able to work almost normally. His job was to maintain the fire, make sure there was enough firewood and generally help out at the stove together with Takan. Takan was the only one of the slaves who did not look at him with dislike and silently, they worked side by side. Akkarin sensed that Takan seemingly was an intelligent albeit silent man. The slave had an apparent passion for food that made him perform his best every day and Akkarin could only admire him for his culinary skills and efforts.

A few days later, he saw the woman close by the Master's quarter and went over to her. "Hello… I, we haven't been properly introduced" The words seemed too formal considering the surroundings but he continued "My name is Akkarin. I want to thank you for helping me". He held up his hands "Your treatment has been miraculous" and it was true. His long strong fingers showed no signs of the torture. The memory of the punishment came back and he looked away for a moment and then glanced back at her and murmured "Thank you – I am forever grateful". She looked around nervously. "I'm Yilana" she said. "And you are welcome". She paused… "Is it true that you come from the Guild?" He frowned and nodded. Apart from Takan who merely tolerated his presence, she had been the only one who had treated him kindly. The other slaves did not trust him, probably because he was a magician. Akkarin felt more alone than ever and took in a deep breath; "Would it be possible for you to come by later tonight and talk – I would consider it an honour to become acquainted with you." he added politely. She looked at him with surprise and disbelief showing all over her face. Then she nodded her head and smiled "I will see if I can come by tonight – I do not wish to upset our Master".

They began to meet as often as possible and she taught him about Sachaka and the Sachakan ways.

Dakova was an Ichani, an outcast who wasn't favoured by the King. The Sachakan King was a strong magician and he along with all other magicians in Sachaka practised black or Greater magic, as she called it. This news shocked and frightened Akkarin.

He was dismayed as he gradually began to understand how much resentment and even hatred the Sachakans felt towards the Guild due to the war that had taken place centuries ago. But he learned from Yilana that Sachaka had been a prosperous, wealthy and educated society which had been completely destroyed by the Guild magicians who had literally blown the country to pieces, thus creating the wasteland that now covered most of Sachaka. Yes, Sachaka very much still suffered from the ramifications of the war.

The more he got to know her, the more he grew fond of her. She was intelligent and kind and more beautiful than words could ever explain. He had noticed that she too was treated as an outcast by the other slaves. She was the Master's personal servant and lived in his quarters so Akkarin assumed that the other slaves were jealous of her status.

As the weeks passed by he had slowly but surely fallen in love with Yilana. Whenever he looked at her, he felt his heart racing and he had to smile to himself. Perhaps it was ridiculous but it was life preserving to be able to feel love even in a place and situation like this.

That night, they met as usual at the edge of the camp. They sat down quietly next to each other watching the sun set. He felt a little nervous and took a deep breath before taking her hand in his. Startled, she looked up. He gave her a crooked smile. "Yilana" he hesitated but continued "Your friendship is very important to me". He felt his face warm. "In fact, as each day passes, all I can think about and dream of is you. You mean more to me than you can possibly imagine" He took in yet another deep breath and said what had to be said "I have fallen in love with you".

She sat completely still looking down. Slowly he reached out and with his hand he turned her face towards his so that he could look her into her eyes. He saw tears on her face and something more in her gaze. He kept looking at her eyes and what he saw in them filled him with joy. He could sense from her that she felt the same way about him. His hands slid behind the back of her neck and drawing her closer he lowered his face and kissed her. It was a long and soft kiss. He closed his eyes and gently let his face touch hers. Then he leaned backwards and pulled her down besides him. Side by side they lay watching the sky.

He drew her close again and kissed her on her beautiful forehead, on her eyelids, and on her soft, soft cheeks. She tugged in a hand below his shirt and let it rest on his chest. He could feel his heart beating rapidly against the weight of her hand. His breath became strained as if he was being drowned but he felt wonderful. For a long time they were lying like that just holding on to one another.

"Akkarin" she whispered, her face buried in his neck. "I know I shouldn't but I do love you… But Dakova will never allow us to be together" "Why not", he asked, "I have noticed other couples here. Surely the Master does not care as long as work is being done"?

"Oh, Akkarin you still don't know, do you? I belong to Dakova. He will not allow me go to any other man but him".

Akkarin hesitated. What was she saying? Then as her words sank in, he tensed all over and felt as if the sky came crashing down on him. She was Dakova's bed slave. How could he not have seen? He could feel that she was weeping against his chest and pushed himself away from her in order to kiss her tears away.

"It's not your fault Yilana, please. I am so sorry. I promise you it does not change how I feel for you and it never will".

She sobbed quietly. "Akkarin, when he discovers this and he will, we'll both risk getting killed. I have feared every truth read he has performed on me since I started having these feeling but so far he just has not thought about searching my mind for something like this. But he will learn the truth sooner or later – it isn't possible to keep secrets from a Master".

"Until then we will continue to meet, promise me this", he whispered between his teeth. His jaw clenched out of anger. He hated Dakova with so much resentment he felt that he was going to die. That man, that bastard, used the woman he loved as a love toy, a puppet and the thought of it was tearing him apart.

When they parted that night it was with a great sorrow and fear for the future but also with the warm feeling of mutual love for one another.

Only two weeks later, during a truth read, Akkarin watched in horror as his love for Yilana was revealed. Dakova then punched him hard in the face. "I know now, guild slave and if you so much as touch her again, I will kill her in an instant". Akkarin tasted blood on his lips and looked up and saw Yilana standing outside Dakova's tent. Clearly, she had been beaten as well and worse than him. The following night, all of the slaves could hear how she was being abused and Akkarin lay in his bed aching all over his body from hate and outrage and sorrow. Never again would they be able to kiss or touch each other and he knew that Dakova would torment them and especially her now that he had discovered their love for one another.

When Dakova performed yet a truth read the next day, Akkarin knew with certainty that Dakova would continue doing so for every single day for the rest of his miserable life. And every single day, he would enjoy learning how much hurt he cost him by hurting Yilana in any way he wanted. Akkarin thought he would not be able to survive it but when he next saw her again, he knew he had to keep on going. As long as she was there, there was hope and if she felt the same way about him he could not give up and he had to stay alive at all costs.