Do'kir felt himself be roughly kicked to the top of a wooden stadium. His initial reaction was to shout out in pain, but a crushing tightness around his throat combined with the smelly sack stuffed over his head made it near impossible to breathe. And though darkness shrouded his vision, he could feel the piercing gazes of ten-to-hundreds of people sizing him up and their rambunctious shouts of their offers.
Immeasurable amounts of fear bubbled within Do'kir. Questions raced across his fretting mind. Where is Do'kir? What happened to Do'kir's caravan? Where is Do'kir's family?
The Khajiit calmed his mind to the best of his abilities and focused on his blurred memories. He remembered… traveling with his family… playing with his sister… mother scolding them... then the wagon caught on fire… the horses ran… screaming… and… darkness.
And it all leads to here.
"HAVE I'VE GOT A SPECIAL OFFER FOR YOU LADIES AND GENTLMEN!" a voiced shouted next to Do'kir's bleeding ears. Something rough grabbed the back of his neck and shoved him forward. The cheers and awes only grew louder.
"THIS HERE'S SLAVE IS A FRESH ONE CAUGHT UNHARMBED BY OUR MOST PROFFESIONAL DARK ELF SLAVE HUNTERS! AND CAUGHT FRESH FROM WHAT YOU MAY ASK? WELL, HE'S A KHAJIIT! THE BEST KHAJIIT SLAVES COME FROM TRAVELING CARAVANS WHERE THE HARDHSHIPS OF TRAVEL HAVE MOLDED THEM TO BE PERFECT WORKERS!"
Do'kir felt two, slimy hands pull off his shirt over his head.
"SEE? QUITE THE SPECIMEN, AIN'T HE! AND IT'S PROVEN BY THE SCHOLARS AT IMPERIAL CITY THAT RED-FURRED KHAJIIT PROVIDE THE BEST AMOUNT OF WORK THAN ANY OTHER!"
Do'kir heard the excited crowed agree in amazement.
"OFFERS STARTING AT 200 PIECES OF GOLD. NOW, WHO'S MY FIRST BIDDER?"
"TWO HUNDRED FIFTY!" a voice shouted.
"THREE HUNDRED FIFTY!" came another voice.
"FOUR HUNDRED!" shouted another.
And it went on and on. As the price kept raising beyond one thousand, the crowd became quieter and quieter. Until…
"TWO THOUSAND GOLD PIECES FROM THE RICH-LOOKING FELLOW OVER THERE! IS THERE NOT ANYONE WHO CAN BEAT THAT BID?"
From underneath the sack, Do'kir cried amongst the murmuring crowd. He didn't want to be sold as a slave. He wanted to be with his family. He wanted to keep playing with his sister.
"Ten thousand gold pieces…" a firm and strong voice said calmly.
Do'kir heard the entire crowd become silenced.
"OI! RICH-LOOKING FELLOW? CAT GOT YOUR TONGUE? NOT THAT BIG OF A SPENDER ARE YOU?"
Silence continued to follow.
"ALL RIGHT THEN, ANYBODY WILLING TO BID OVER TEN THOUSAND? WHAT? NO ONE? GOING ONCE… GOING TWICE… AAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNND THE WINNER OF THIS SLAVE IS THAT NORD OVER THERE! CONGRATULATIONS! WHY DON'T YOU COME UP TO THE STADIUM TO INSPECT YOUR PRIZE?"
Do'kir whimpered as heavy footsteps climbed the stairs and approached him.
"Take off the bag," the Nord ordered.
The same slimy hands undid the knot and pulled off the sack. Do'kir attempted for a breath of fresh air… but froze. Gazing down at him was a pair of fierce, cold blue eyes that belonged to a fearsome-looking Nord. His face had a ragged, blonde goatee in a desperate need of trimming. Etched onto his face were countless scars that foretold of his countless battles.
The Nord's hand made a rough grab for Do'kir's muzzle. The cat made no resistance as the Nord kept turning his slave's head, inspecting every inch and corner. "Hmph… you'll do," he said, seemingly satisfied with his purchase.
"Thank you for your purchase, Sir…" the voice didn't know how to finish.
Do'kir looked to his right to find a skinny, bald Dark Elf having trouble finishing his sentence.
"Tallowhand," the Nord answered, but never shifted his attention to the Dark Elf.
"Thank you for your purchase, Sir Tallowhand. I must admit, I've never seen your face around here, nor have I witnessed a price such as yours."
Sir Tallowhand shot him a deadly gaze. "Is that a problem?"
The elf shrunk in fear. "Of course not, Sir Tallowhand! Enjoy your new slave and I wish you safe travels."
The Nord grunted and grabbed Do'kir's hand. "Follow me, Boy. We're leaving."
Do'kir didn't hesitate. He allowed the Nord to drag him down the stadium and past the crowd that glared at the cat with jealously and malicious intent. Do'kir looked around and discovered the slave auction took place in the middle of hot, dry canyon. Then he took a glance at Sir Tallowhand, taking notice of the large sword resting at his waist that only added to his fearsome visage.
"AND NOW, FOR MY NEXT OFFER! HERE'S A LITTLE ONE TAKEN FROM THE SAME CARAVAN AS THAT BOY OVER THERE! SHE MAY NOT LOOK MUCH, BUT I PROMISE YOU THAT THERE'S MORE THAN WHAT MEETS THE EYE, FOLKS!"
Realization hit Do'kir. He made a move to look back… to shout for his sister's name… but another rough hand grabbed the back of his neck. The cat froze. If he moved even an inch, that hand would crush his neck.
"Don't look back, Boy!" the Nord ordered. Then he finished in a sympathetic tone. "You'll only make it harder for yourself."
Do'kir nodded, tears staining his fur.
He led him outside the canyon where many stationed horses and wagons awaited for their drivers. Sir Tallowhand helped the Khajiit up the wagon. Then Do'kir simply watched as the Nord took the driver's seat and grabbed the reins.
And then, they were off.
Do'kir looked back at the fading canyon. "K'ara…" he whimpered.
The Nord sighed and urged the horse to travel faster.
The path's scenery shifted as day became night and night became day. For the first few days, they traveled across a dry, barren land where the earth swallowed any drop of water. Then it became a humid, green forest where the skulking predators within the shadows watched them as they go. Do'kir believed it was the Nord's hand at his sword that kept them at bay. Then finally, the path seemed to be satisfied to being a clear, dirt path with a luscious, green field going as far as the eye can see.
Throughout the entire trip, the Nord handed plenty of food and water to Do'kir. From apples and oranges, to delicious cheeses and bread. Despite being well-fed, Do'kir had trouble sleeping. Sure, sleeping on a creaky, wooden wagon is not the most comfortable places to sleep, but it was mostly his sister that kept him awake. Where is she and what exactly is happening to her right now? Every night, he stared at the luminous moons, praying to Jone and Jode for her safety.
Finally, on the 5th night, he slept.
"Wake up, Boy, we're here."
A large hand on Do'kir's shoulde stirred him from sleep. Groggily, he sat up and stretched like cat. His back hurt. His head hurt. And it was still night. Wonderful.
"Hurry up, Boy," the Nord called again. "You've already wasted enough my time."
The Nord waited patiently as the Khajiit weakly hopped down the wagon. He lost his footing and nearly fell, but quickly regained his balance.
With a torch lit, the Nord ordered, "Follow me."
Do'kir made no qualms. He followed the Nord up the dirt path. Through his blurred vision, the cat could make out a house.
What the moon shined upon with its luminous, white light was a whole house almost as imposing as the Nord in front of Do'kir. A garden was laid to one side and a stable at the they made it to the entrance, the Nord set the torch on the stand near the door. As he searched for the keys in his pocket, he told the cat, "My daughter already set up a late dinner for us, but don't expect any stew or steak. She's five. Can't cook yet. Hope you like more cheese and bread for dinner."
Do'kir didn't care. He was too tired to care.
The Khajiit followed the Nord through the door and into an empty hallway. He was too tired to take any details. But the cat did pick up a couple of open books scattered across the floors.
"Sorry for the mess you're going to clean up tomorrow," the Nord apologized. "But my daughter does love her books."
Do'kir didn't answer.
The Nord led him to the dining table where two plates of bread and cheese and two goblets of water awaited them. Both took their seats, but Do'kir made sure to move his plate and sit as far as away from the Nord as possible.
The Nord ate eagerly, but the Khajiit just simply sat there, staring at his food with dull, dead eyes.
Finishing with a burp, the Nord led the cat upstairs to his room. Do'kir had enough curiosity to look around at all the nothing that decorated his room. At least his decent bed near the window was being basked in pure, white moonlight.
"Get some sleep. Work starts tomorrow. Goodnight," the Nord said before closing the door behind him.
His words never seemed to reach Do'kir. He was too busy standing at the same spot he's been standing on for five minutes, trying to process everything that has happened. Until, finally, he broke down to floor, crying as silently as he could. When he could cry no more, he took notice of his bed. He slumped his body across the room and threw himself over the bed, never bothering to put on the blanket, and weeped dry tears.
Suddenly, the door creaked open and Do'kir's weak eyes shifted toward the sound. It wasn't the Nord that he saw. Rather, it was a Nord as small as a child who tiptoed near silently across the room towards Do'kir. With the aid of moonlight, the cat could make out the child's features.
She saw the world through the same colored eyes as her father's, but it wasn't as cold or fierce. She witnessed the entire world around her through innocent and curious eyes. And she wasn't blonde either. She had beautiful, long, red hair rivaling that of his own red fur.
Do'kir didn't know why, but he sat up to greet the child, but as soon as did, the child immediately bolted out the door. The cat's ears fell in disappointment.
At least he was left to cry throughout the night alone.
Hello fellow readers! I hope you've enjoyed the prologue and leave some reviews about what you thought of this!