Disclaimer: I don't own it, of course.
53. Earth
Edmund awoke with a jerk, gasping for breath. He quickly sat up, looking around frantically for his brother. Everything had been a nightmare. It had to of been. He couldn't have been gone for two weeks. There was no way Peter would ever let that happen. But as Edmund's eyes adjusted to the darkness and he took in the several pairs of eyes that were staring at him, he knew that he was wrong. It hadn't all been a dream. He was now the property of a nobleman on an island far from home, and Peter had no idea where to look.
"What in the devil is going on up there?" Edmund looked over at the door, eyes widening a bit. He heard the other people in the room gasp and hide under their covers, feigning sleep. Taking the initiative, Edmund, too, dove under his covers and tried to pass himself off as fast asleep. However, moments later, he heard the door be thrown open and he couldn't hold back his wince.
"Were you the one making that bloody racket?" The king flinched a bit when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. His body was jerked around so he was staring up at the furious face of Mahir, his new owner. He stared right back and nodded, dreading what the man might do but not letting his fear show. "Do it again and I'll have your head. Get up. You're working the horses today. We'll see just how good you are with them."
Edmund began to sit up, but he was too slow for Mahir's taste, who still had a hold on his shoulder. Mahir dragged him out of bed and threw him to the ground, muttering something about spoiled Archenlanders.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Eamon."
"Not anymore it isn't. I won't have a barbarian name in this household," So the man was a Calormene, or at least partly so. What was he doing living on Narnian territory? "You're name is Emad now. Much more traditional."
Edmund had to hold back a cringe. He didn't want a Calormene name. He wanted this man to know who he was. He wanted this man to know that, with a blink of an eye, he could have a garrison of troops march up to his doorstep and kill him without so much as a second thought. He wanted this man to know that his brother was searching for him, probably desperately, and would kill any person who got in his way or laid one unkind hand on his younger sibling. Unfortunately, Edmund no longer had that army at his command, no longer had that brother to defend him when he needed help. He was trapped with no way out, so all he could say was "Yes sir."
"Well, at least you have some manners. Now get down to the stables. The rest of you, your day is starting early. I expect your chores to be done early as well."
There was a flurry of movement and Edmund found himself lost in a sea of at least eight slaves. One grabbed his arm and led him down the stairs. It wasn't until they got outside into the predawn light that Edmund could get a good look at his guide. It was a young man, roughly four inches taller than Edmund. He was tan and his hair, bleached blonde by the sun, still held hints of its previous dusty brown color. He had sharp hazel eyes and looked as though someone had insulted his most precious belief.
"What the hell did you think you were doing?" He growled. His voice was deep and mismatched with his slender build.
"I didn't do anything." Edmund said angrily right back.
"You were screaming loud enough to wake the Tisroc on the other side of the bloody ocean. Of course you were doing something."
"Well excuse me for having a nightmare."
"You always scream in your sleep?"
"No."
"Good."
The rest of the walk to the stables was quiet and tense. Edmund took advantage of the silence, observing his surroundings. The property was large, especially for an island residence. The main house was three stories tall and incredibly grand, even for a nobleman. The stables were equally as extravagant, looking as though they could hold fifty or more horses comfortably, and by the noise coming from inside, they probably did. Pasture after pasture spread across the property, surrounded by dirt roads several acres off in each direction. Despite the vast expanse of space, there was not a soul in sight.
"You'll be tending to the first corridor." Edmund's captor spoke up once again. "Do not venture past there. You will feed the horses every morning and let them out after they've had their fill. Each stallion has his own run. Do not put them together. You must lead the mares and their foals to the far pasture, down toward the house. Once they are settled, you will clean their stalls to perfection. This must be finished by noon. After you are done, you are to tend the gardens behind the house. If you miss a single weed, you won't have dinner, so I suggest being thorough. You are not to go in the house for any reason until nightfall, do you understand?" Edmund nodded, struggling to remember everything he was being told. "Good. The gardens will take you most of the day. After dusk, you are to bring each horse in one at a time and feed them their dinner. You must do this in exactly the order that they are stabled. The horses in the farthest stalls go first, the ones closest to the door last. I hope you can fill in the gaps."
Edmund was pulled into the barn and the pair made a sharp turn to the right. More than two dozen horses poked their heads out curiously, watching the new boy be paraded past them. Each one was allowed to smell Edmund as they pleased. He was told the name of each horse and which field it was assigned to. Once they reached the end of the hall and he had been informed about every horse, his partner released him and marched out without another word.
"Someone doesn't like playing babysitter." Edmund grumbled, turning to the horse closest to him. He found himself face to face with a jet black stallion who had his ears perked up curiously. "I'm sure this won't be as bad as he makes it out to be." As Edmund put out his hand for the stallion to sniff, he was quickly proven wrong. The horse reared and screamed, pinning his ears back and snapping at Edmund. The king jumped back, startled by the sudden vicious behavior. He sighed and moved on to the next stall. A palomino mare, the one who had been carted with Phillip, stuck her head out and nudged Edmund's shoulder sweetly. She was a fairly small creature, barely breaching fourteen hands. If Edmund didn't know horses better, he would have insisted she was a pony. She tossed her head lightly and Edmund smiled and patted her neck.
He walked down the hall, meeting each horse for several minutes. They all reacted differently to him though most seemed to readily accept him as their new caretaker. Eventually, however, the stallion at the end began to grow more agitated at the fact that he hadn't yet had his breakfast. He began to stamp and nicker impatiently and slowly got every other horse to do the same. It took over an hour, but Edmund was finally able to get each horse fed and released into its appropriate paddock. Just as he was about to leave and tend to the garden, a voice drifted down from the corridor to the left.
"Hello?" It was whispered cautiously and Edmund could barely make out what the voice had said. However, he knew exactly who it was and, despite the warnings not to, he raced down the hall.
"Phillip?" Edmund searched every stall, eventually finding his Horse in the very last one.
"Sire, I was hoping it was you. Are you alright? What did those brutes do to you?" Phillip laid his ears back angrily, inspecting Edmund's neck and head with his nose.
"I'm fine, Phillip. Just a bump."
"Just a bump? You could barely sit upright when I last saw you."
"Well I'm fine now, I promise. They have me working the horses on the opposite side of the barn and tending the garden during the day. I can do both easily. I'll be alright."
Phillip sighed. "How are we ever going to get back to Narnia?"
"I think we're still-" Before Edmund could finish the sentence, he was cut off with a harsh scream.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING DOWN HERE, BOY?" Edmund jumped and his eyes widened when he saw who was storming toward him. Mahir, looking angrier than ever, had his fists clenched and teeth bared. "Nash specifically told you NOT to come down here."
Edmund said nothing as Mahir grabbed his arm tightly. "You will learn to do as you are told. Tomorrow I sell the horse." The moment Edmund began to protest, Mahir punched him in the face. "Not a word from you." Phillip screamed and lunged for the Calormene, teeth gnashing and ready to bite his hand off. Edmund blinked away the darkness hovering on the edges of his vision and looked up at Phillip, silently begging him to stop. He didn't want the man to hurt Phillip too. The Horse seemed to get the message, for the second he caught Edmund's watchful gaze, he stopped struggling and simply glared at Mahir menacingly.
Edmund watched Phillip longingly as he was dragged down the hallway and outside. He gasped when Mahir threw him to the ground, landing on his still-tender shoulder. He sat up quickly and was about to stand but thought better of it when he saw the look his owner gave him. Mahir paced in circles around Edmund for several minutes, as though trying to decide the best way to kill him. After almost a dozen circles, Mahir finally stopped, looked down at Edmund, and kicked him in the ribs. Edmund gasped and wrapped his arms around himself, struggling to breathe evenly. Mahir kicked him again and continued to do so until Edmund was lying on the ground with a couple of broken ribs and completely at Mahir's mercy. At that point, the slave owner helped Edmund stand and tried to punch him. Out of instinct and self defense, Edmund raised his arm and blocked Mahir's fist, glaring at him defiantly. Edmund couldn't tell if this pleased or angered his master. Rather than try to hit him again, the Calormene dragged Edmund to the gardens behind the house.
"You will do your chores now, as you were instructed. I do not want to see you again until nightfall."
"And if you do?" The moment the words were out in the open, he regretted asking them. His answer was a swift, hard punch on the side of his head, sending the all-too-familiar sparks fizzling across his vision. Edmund blinked and was almost shocked to find himself on his hands and knees. He didn't realize he had fallen, but then again, it was hard to notice much else when one was seeing stars.
"I'll kill you." With that, Mahir marched back into the house.
At first the work seemed fairly easy. Pulling weeds was hard on his back, but it wasn't nearly as bad as scrubbing every speck of lichen out of a ship's hull. However, as the day went on, the sun rose higher and the heat began to get to him. Edmund grew dizzy, worsening the more he worked. His tools slipped out of his hands often and he was drenched in sweat. His stomach began to turn and his head pounded, eventually growing bad enough that he could no longer concentrate on what he was doing. His heart raced and by the time the sun set he was on the verge of passing out.
Despite his condition, Edmund somehow managed to stand up and stumble over to the horses, bringing them in one at a time and feeding them, just as he had been instructed. Once every horse was settled for the night, he began to make his way out of the stable, but stopped just before reaching the entrance. He could kill a half hour and not be missed, and he doubted that Mahir would come looking for him before morning. If Phillip was going to be sold in the morning, Edmund had to see him one last time. He had to try to help him escape.
He turned and walked down the left corridor, not stopping until he had reached Phillip's stall. As quietly as he could, he opened the door and slipped in, immediately sagging to the ground in exhaustion. He heard Phillip take a few cautious steps over to him and sniff the top of his head.
"My King, is that you? What are you doing here?" Phillip sounded worried, confused, angry, and relieved all at the same time. Edmund didn't think that was possible.
"Please, Phillip…please call me Edmund. I miss my name, and I wish you would call me that anyway."
"What's wrong? Your voice sounds different." Now Phillip was just worried.
"I'm going to miss you, too…"
"Edmund?"
"You gotta get out of here," Edmund knew he wasn't making much sense, but he didn't care. He was too tired to keep track of his thoughts, let alone care in what order they spewed out. "I'm going to let you free. You'll have to run. I'm not sure where you can go but you have to go and go fast or else they'll sell you and you can't be sold. I won't allow it. Maybe you could find a way across the Eastern Sea…send word to Peter. He'll take good care of you. Don't worry about looking for me. I'll find my way home, just so long as they don't kill me first. I'm going to open this gate and you've got to run, understand?"
"No, I can't say I do...what's wrong, Edmund? You're not yourself. You're not making any sense." Edmund heard Phillip lie down next to him in the straw and felt his velvet nose on his cheek. It wasn't until he tried to reach up and touch the Horse that he realized he was crying.
"I'm so tired, Phillip…" Edmund felt his head bob as he began to drift off to sleep, but the Stallion quickly nudged him awake.
"It's after nightfall. You're supposed to be back at the house. They'll come looking for you."
"They won't look for me…he said he'd kill me…"
"What?" Edmund didn't know Phillip's voice could get so dark. "No one is going to kill you while I'm alive."
"I'm gonna go back to the house, 'kay? They might come looking for me."
"But…you just…" Phillip sighed. "Be careful, sire. Are you sure you're safe to walk?"
"I'm fine…I'm gonna leave the door open for you. You have to run. They'll be back before dawn. Get Peter." Edmund stood shakily, and if it hadn't been for Phillip staying right by his side and giving him something to hold onto, he would have fallen back down. "Tell him not to worry. I'll be home soon, and I'm sorry I didn't wear fancier clothes."
"Fancier…Edmund? What are you talking about?"
"If I had worn fancier clothes, they would have recognized me as Narnian rather than thinking I was an Archenlander." With that, Edmund swept out of the stall and left the door wide open for Phillip to escape through.
It took him a good fifteen minutes with several breaks to get from the stables to the house, a walk that had taken only two to three minutes that morning. Edmund knew something wasn't right with himself, but he didn't have time to think about that. He had to get back before he got into trouble. When he finally walked through the front doors, he was all but unconscious. Come the next morning, he didn't remember how it took Nash and a young female slave to get him upstairs, or how he spent the entire night muttering sentence fragments, or how Nash toiled through the night trying to keep his body cool. All he knew was that he awoke to find a very cranky, very stern Nash lecturing him about the dangers of heat stroke and how he needed to keep himself better hydrated.
"I'm sorry," Edmund apologized weakly. "It won't happen again."
"Of course it will. You'll be working the gardens for the rest of the summer, and yesterday was a rather cool day compared to how hot it can get around here. You have no choice but to let it happen again. Just try to keep these incidents to a minimum. I'd rather not have to explain to the master why his newest, most expensive slave slipped into a coma and died doing simple yard work."
Edmund nodded silently, biting his lip a bit in shame. He couldn't tell if Nash was angry because he was worried for Edmund or himself. Either way, the young king felt bad for putting this boy in such a terrible position.
"Next time, you don't have to bother with me." Edmund didn't say it as an insult or accusation, but as a simple, honest offer.
"I know, but I'm going to. No one else has the guts to take care of a stranger, and no one else is old enough and strong enough to go without sleep and still perform well. Without me, you're as good as dead, kid."
There were a lot of things in that statement that confused Edmund, but he thought better of pressing Nash. It was bad enough that he was angry and risking getting in trouble. He probably didn't want to have to explain himself on top of all of that.
It was only a few minutes after their conversation that Mahir came upstairs and woke the rest of the slaves up. He allowed most of them to rush past him, hurrying to get as many chores done as they could as quickly as they could, but when Edmund tried to pass by, the Calormene blocked his way.
"Akmal will be doing your chores today. You and I are going to sell that precious horse of yours." Edmund wondered who Akmal was, but decided to play the wiser card and keep his mouth closed. He followed Mahir out to the stables, wincing at the amount of pressure the man applied to his shoulder when he squeezed. When they reached the barn, he let go of Edmund and opted for shoving him down the aisle, making him trip over his own feet and falling on his face once. As he frantically brushed the dirt off of his clothes, he looked up to see Mahir staring, horrified, into an empty stall. Phillip was gone.
At first, Edmund relaxed a bit. Phillip was gone, which mean he was safe. Or, safer than he would be, at least. Talking Animals were respected throughout Narnia, even on the Lone Islands. Once he revealed that he could talk, someone would help him. Edmund was sure of it. However, that left the matter of who was going to help Edmund. Mahir had turned on him, and he looked furious. His face had gone red and his entire body was tense. Edmund swore he could see the vein in his temple throbbing. He took a hesitant step backward.
"You let him out," Mahir growled. "You just cost me two hundred crescents."
Edmund turned and ran when Mahir charged at him. Despite still being weak from the day before, he gave the slave owner a good run for his money before he was finally tackled in one of the pastures. He covered his head with his arms instinctively as Mahir began to beat him. After the owner had gotten in a few shots, Edmund couldn't stand it anymore and decided to fight back. He rolled over, forcing Mahir to slide off of his back. The two scrambled to their feet, but Edmund got there first and swung his fist at his master's face. Mahir yelped in shock and pain, staring at Edmund for a few moments before fighting back.
The two brawled for several minutes, each getting in a good amount of swings and blocks. Just as Edmund was starting to think he could win this fight, Mahir whistled. He quickly glanced down the length of the pasture, doing a double take when he saw the wretched black stallion racing for the pair. At first the horse's ears were perked and he looked happy to answer his master's call, but when he saw Edmund, his ears went flat and his head lowered. The king had just a moment to duck out of the way of Mahir's fist and run a few feet before the stallion was upon him. He rammed into Edmund with his shoulder, screaming in fury. Edmund tumbled to the ground, pulling his legs and arms to his chest to avoid them being trampled on. He heard the stallion turn around and rear. Edmund rolled just in time, avoiding the stallion's legs by mere inches. He scrambled as quickly as he could for the fence and barely made it to the other side before the horse caught up with him.
Once he stood up, breathing heavily and wiping blood and dirt off of his face, he heard Mahir laugh. He spun around quickly and glared at the man who was striding over to the fence. Mahir patted his stallion's neck and smirked at Edmund.
"Kamal has some of the purest blood in these islands. His eyes can tell a good man from a dirty slave," Edmund jumped back when the horse snapped at him, glaring at Mahir when he laughed once again. "He obviously sees you as a slave. Were you born into this profession, boy, or were you recruited?" Edmund continued to glare, saying nothing. "Well, if you were the latter, your family should thank whoever took you. You're worthless, and good for nothing but cleaning up after an animal."
Mahir turned away from Edmund and smoothly mounted Kamal. He adjusted himself on the horse's bare back and looked down on Edmund.
"I am going to search for your horse, and when I find him, I will kill him and feed his meat to you and the other slaves. Be grateful you aren't there to watch him die."
Mahir seemed pleased when he saw Edmund pale at his threat. Guiding his horse with his mane, he strode over to the nearby gate. Edmund, lost in his thoughts, jumped when his owner bellowed at him to open the gate for him. He did as he was told, too worried and upset to rebel. Phillip was out there somewhere, unaware that a purebred stallion was going to be chasing after him with a killer on his back. Edmund had sent him to his death. He just knew it.
Struggling to keep himself from mounting the closest horse he could find and chase after Mahir, Edmund drifted back to the barn and helped Akmal with his chores. Akmal was a bit awkward to be around, he quickly realized. All he could get out of the boy was that he had been Mahir's slave for a year and he was eighteen years old. Beyond that, he wouldn't say a word. He would barely look Edmund in the eye, let alone carry on any semblance of a conversation with him.
As far as looks went, Akmal looked a lot like Adem. He had dark brown hair and hazel eyes. His skin was tan from the summer sun, but during the winter Edmund could easily see it being a soft ivory. He had a bit of stubble on his chin, calloused hands, and too many bruises and cuts to count. It seemed Edmund wasn't the only one Mahir mistreated.
Once the horses had all been taken care of, Akmal excused himself quietly and left Edmund to tend to the gardens. He had no idea where the eighteen year old had gone, or what his chores were when he wasn't covering for Edmund, but he didn't have much time to care anyway. He toiled away in the gardens, surprised at just how much work needed to be done, even after everything he did the day before. He finally finished around sundown, once again soaked in sweat but not nearly as bad as he had been before.
It wasn't until after he had finished putting the horses away that he saw Mahir again. The man was leading his stallion back in, both looking tired and proud. Edmund watched him worriedly as he took care of the crazy steed rather than allowing Edmund to do it. Once the horse had been taken care of, Mahir approached him, wearing a smirk.
"Found him. Eat up." Edmund paled when his owner tossed a wrapped chunk of meat into his arms. He trembled with self restraint. He wanted Mahir dead. He wanted him dead right on the very spot he stood. He would kill him with his bare hands if it wasn't for the package he held. There was no way he was going to treat Phillip's flesh and blood poorly by dropping it on the ground to kill his murderer. Murderer. That was all Mahir was and that was all Edmund would ever see him as. Not a master, not a Calormene, not a man caught up in a bad trade who didn't know any better. Just a murderer.
Mahir watched as Edmund's entire body shook. He smirked when Edmund growled and curled up, ready to spring. He turned his back when Edmund didn't move, and after a few moments of standing still, he strode off to the house. Once he was out of sight, Edmund turned, fell to the ground, and threw up.
