(Finally got around to writing the third chapter. Reviews again please.)
There was no end to the stronghold's splendour and Ewoden could only help but stare in awe as the column of purchased slaves moved through the stone corridors. Every couple of window were stained glass windows, each depicting a Sarafan knight with white wings impaling a green, demonic creature with it's sword. The ceiling was arched, with the same strange architecture he had seen inside the dock a few minutes earlier. In front of nearly every larger door hung Sarafan banners, depicting the same symbol he had seen their horsemen brandishing earlier.
Every now and then, he would pass other Sarafan knights other than the ones at the front of the group, leading them. They would give them a sceptical glance when they passed by, as if assessing if they were worthy enough to be present in their fortress. Ewoden couldn't blame them, such a colossal and beautiful construction deserved little short of the best. He looked toward Dumah for some kind of explanation into it's glory, he just winked at him with a broad smile.
The women that had met them when they stepped off the boat were escorting them on either side. Ewoden couldn't help staring. He had never seen a bald women before. The only women who went down into the mines were the wives of the noblemen, and they only came when they had no other choice. When he realized he was being rude, he tried to fix his attention on something else. That wasn't hard, there were lots of things to divert his attention.
Especially when they left the corridor and arrived in a wide open chamber. The knights motioned for them to advance to the centre of it. They obeyed without question. The chamber had no roof, and so the clear sky with the faint smudges of cloud could be seen. Four statures of Sarafan angels, not unlike those of the stained glass windows before hand, stood proudly on pillars at each side of the square arena. Most of the floor was marble, but four small squares of grass, purposely placed, sat in the centre. A thin stretch of roof ran around the outside of it, held up by at least a dozen small marble shafts. Two knights stood in the centre, waiting for them.
One of them was clad in green chain mail, silver armour and brandished a long, nasty looking pike. Goat like horns had been placed on the front of his helmet. A pair of steal grey eyes visible behind his visor. The second had his helmet removed, so Ewoden and the other's could see his pale white skin, blue eyes and raven black hair, set in a middle parting. His armour was bright orange, with a golden chest plate, engraved to look exactly like another Sarafan angel, the wings spreading out onto the shoulder pads. A cruel looking blade was attached to the cuff of his left arm. But what grabbed Ewoden's immediate attention were the two spikes sticking out from the ground nearby. Several heads had been impaled on it. Severed heads, each one almost translucent having been there so long. They weren't human, he could see that at once, with the pointed ears and fangs, but still the sight made him almost puke in disgust.
"Well met Raziel." Meobius said with a smile, addressing the helmet less knight. The knight lowered his head in a gesture of respect to Meobius, before looking past him toward the slaves.
"I take it these are the new recruits sir." Moebius nodded, looking back over his shoulder with the faint outline of an evil grin. Raziel sighed, walking forward, looking them over himself. "Certainly not bad, I think we can do something with this lot." he paused to look back toward the green knight. "What do you think Turel?" Turel was by far much larger, a good head and shoulders above Raziel and looked down on them all menacingly.
"We'll see how well they do during training, and then I'll make up my mind." He turned, reached down and tore one of the served heads up and without pausing, tossed it to Ewoden. The former slave caught it, and went deadly silent. The dead face stared back at him, eyes rolled back, tongue out over the lips. Strands of blond hair falling out of the scalp. The stench of it was horrible. He held his composure, and gently tossed it away, trying not to look like he was about to be violently sick. Turel seemed to approve of Ewoden;s approach as he started chuckling. "Not too bad, I think I might be able to do something good with this one."
The knights and other Sarafan starting talking amongst themselves, the bald Sarafan women standing on the outside of the open topped chamber looking bored. The slaves all started chattering quietly to each other, excited prospects, hopes and dreams filling the tense air around them. Ewoden felt himself strangely detached from all of them. His attention was looked onto the head he'd thrown away. He knew the Sarafan hunted vampires, and so logic dictated that this wad the head of a blood sucking demon. But it looked human. Apart from pointed ears and fangs, the face was human. How did the Sarafan ever muster up the courage to dispatch a creature of the night if it looked so mortal?
"It takes a lot to impress Turel." Dumah said with a hearty laugh, placing a hand on Ewoden's shoulder. "You've got guts lad, and that's a good quality for a Sarafan." Ewoden turned to look at him.
"Me, A Sarafan?" He asked absently, considering the whole possibility. He had been born a slave, taught to expect that he would die a slave and suddenly this happened. He felt so deliriously happy he thought that any moment he'd either faint or wake up. Dumah nodded.
"Well, once you pass the training, which won't be easy I tell you, but I reckon a strong, young man such as yourself should be able to endure it." He patted him on the back. "You'll go far, I wouldn't be surprised if you made General some day." And with that, he went off to talk with another knight. Leaving Ewoden to stare of into space alone. Whatever fate had landed him here, he embraced with open arms like a found lover awaiting the return of their partner.
"Pardon my interruption. my lord." A message boy had run out from an adorning corridor. He was breathing hard from having to run. Meobius looked down at him. His grey eyes gazing softly at the young lad. He had dirty blond hair, almost like Dumah but longer. Like moist messengers, he was dressed in simple sheep skins with thing string holding them to his body. "A lady Azimuth had just arrived, seeking your council." Meobius's features hardened so much he looked like his face had been carved out of stone.
"If you gentlemen will excuse me." He said, briefly gesturing toward Raziel, Turel and a group of other knights chatting to themselves. No one noticed the old man leave, following the message boy. Ewoden stared after him, suddenly puzzled from the change Meobius had undertaken. The look on his face, so determined and iron clad was totally different to the soft, so much older face had had just become used to seeing. The large group continued talking for another minute or two, before the doors of another adorning corridor burst open and another knight marched in, accompanied by at least four other Sarafan women. He was different from the others, they could see that in a second., His chain mail was purple, his armour bright silver. His shoulder blades were jet black, with a thin strip of golden yellow running along the outside. His chest plate was engraved by strange symbols, a form of writing Ewoden had never seen before. His helmet was different from the other's. It was more streamlined, without a set of decorative horns. A plume of black hair ran from the back of the head. The moment he entered, the knights dropped down to their knees, bowing their heads before him. Ewoden and the other slaves got the message and quickly followed. The deadly silence that followed was so sudden Ewoden felt like he'd been ripped from reality itself and placed intoa world were nothing happened as it was supposed to.
The knight stopped at the edge of the open arena, scanning all those present with eyes hidden behind the darkness of his visor. Then, he approached. His armour clanking against his chain mail.
"Lord Malek." Raziel began. "These are the new recruits Lord Meobius purchased from the province of Willendorf."
"I see." Malek replied sharply, his voice so deep it sounded almost like distant thunder. "Separate them into four different groups, and we'll start the training from there. I will attend to one group personally." The knights quickly sorted them into four groups, each one equal to the other in number. Once this was accomplished, Raziel, Turel and Dumah selected a group and stood by them. Ewoden was not in any of them. He found a pit forming in his stomach as Malek himself approached, giving them the third sceptical glance Ewoden had received in the last few minutes. He was a terrifying man, almost as tall as Turel but it was the pike strapped to his back, with a blade that curved around almost forming a circle that made his skin receive goose bumps. The fact that his face could not be seen added a hint of mystery that none of the former slaves found appealing. "You all appear well built, but I assure you I only accept the best examples of men for the Sarafan army. We'll begin your training in a few short hours, until then…Sorceress," He yelled, calling over to one of the women standing around the walls. "Take these men to the baths. They smell like they've been rolling around in pig excrement."