Chapter 10: What a Tiny Space
The heavy door swung open.
Nephiah lay in a corner, she had whip marks on her arms, a black eye, her head had been shaved. She had lost track of how long it had been, but the sound of the door still made her flinch.
Frokwulf remained in the corridor outside. "Come.", he simply said. Without delay she stood up and walked over. She turned her back to him and put her hands behind her back.
Frokwulf bowed down to put iron shackles on her wrists. It all seemed very automatic. "Today is the day.", he said pointing down the corridor. Nephiah started walking, Frokwulf followed closely. At a T-junction, two bandits crossed their path from left to right, they turned right as well.
"Hey Frokwulf!", one of the bandits in front of them said over his shoulder. "What's it with your obsession with Elves anyway."
Another T-junction, they turned left. "Do you know how old Elves get.", Frokwulf replied. "I don't know, 200 years?"
"I've heard they live to over a thousand.", the other Bandit interjected.
"Nonsense, they'd have to use magic to reach that age."
"Shut up!", Frokwulf yelled.
Nephiah flinched, she had heard that tone of voice a lot. The bandits looked back.
"The point is, they get very old. This slave..." He put his hand on Nephiah's shoulder. "...won't show signs of aging for the next three generations of Nords. So if you train them young, you will have something very valuable. If they are pretty, well. That's just an added bonus."
The corridor opened up to a hall that was filled with iron cages. Each one was populated by children of all races and all ages. Some of them were unconscious, some of them were curled up and crying, some stared at them fearfully as they passed. Fear that intensified upon laying eyes on Nephiah, a sign of things to come. Eventually they left the hall into another corridor.
"Well, in any case, this might actually become a profitable business. We have received word from a kind of blood cult out west which seems to be very interested in our merchandise."
"A blood cult.", Frokwulf laughed. "Those are vampires, you dimwit."
The bandit looked back at Frokwulf with surprise. "How do you know?"
"Let's just say they appreciate people with certain... talents."
"Oh so the boss is one of them?"
He looked back into the direction he was walking. "The boss is not a vampire, are you crazy? Have you ever seen him eat somebody.", the other bandit said.
"Why do they call him 'The Unliving' then."
"Probably because he's supposed to be over 150 years old."
"Magic?"
"Damned if I know. But definitely not a vampire." Frokwulf followed the exchange with amusement.
The corridor opened up to another hall, it was filled with people. A big chair lined with satin was placed onto an elevated platform at the far end. The hooded man sat on it, looking down into the room.
Many bandits lined the sides of the room, building small clusters of people. Many of them had a piece of cloth sown into their armor that was the same color as the robe of the man in the chair.
Three men stood in the center of the room, looking up at the hooded man.
"Who do you think you are?.", the man in the middle said with distain in his voice. "We are Nords! This is not worthy of our people!"
The bandit in front pointed angrily at the hood. As they reached a place close to the throne, Nephiah was made to stop by the hand on her shoulder. The other two bandits moved into a different group. Everybody was watching the exchange in the middle of the room.
"Are you not bandits?", the hooded man replied in a tone much more sophisticated than was usually heard in these halls. "Are you not amongst the lawless riffraff, that steals and murders for their own gain?"
"This is different! We engage our prey in combat! If they are worthy fighters, they get to live and it is we who get to die! You are capturing people, turning them into obedient animals!" He turned to the spectators. "Have you seen the cages?! There are children there! Nord children!"
An uproar went through the room.
The hooded man spoke loudly to reach over the chatter. "I have made preparations that will award us with much wealth!" The room quieted down again. "And power, if you care for that sort of thing."
The three bandits on the floor turned back to him.
"But in order to meet the demand and also to keep the Yarl's men at bay - because believe me, they have taken note of what we are doing - we must organize. Work together. And together we shall reap the benefits!"
A lot of the crowd applauded, a good number demonstratively crossed their arms and remained silent.
"This is not our way!", the bandit in the center said. "And I am not the only one who thinks that way! If I see you hunting in our territory, there will be trouble!"
The hooded man took a deep breath and sighed as he exhaled. He stood up and raised his hands. He threw them forth, emitting rays of lightning towards the two bandits standing next to his opponent. Both of them were instantly thrown back and landed a few meters back. A purple pulse followed the lightning and hit its targets before they stopped their movement. Smoke rose from the lifeless bodies.
The bandit left standing drew his sword and made a motion towards him.
He raised a finger and spoke with eerie certainty in his voice. "Wait for it."
The bandit stopped and hesitantly turned around as the dead bodies of his companions began to twitch and moan and eventually got back to their feet. The crowd was dead silent,
Nephiah's eyes opened wide, she was terrified. But with nowhere to turn she was left alone with her fear.
"Jorcjolf?", the bandit on the floor asked his former companion who looked at him with dead eyes. They jumped him without warning, rung him to the ground and began to tear him to pieces with their bare hands. Blood spilled, pieces of flesh got tossed all over the floor.
Nephiah closed her eyes and turned away.
Frokwulf grabbed her forehead from behind with his large hand and opened her eyelids with his ring and index fingers. "Watch."
After the sounds of death had stopped, the hooded man gestured in a dismissive manner at the floor. The living corpses stopped moving, their skin turned black and they dissolved into piles of ash.
"Necromancer...", whispered a bandit standing close to Nephiah.
Frokwulf let go of her head.
"Yes.", the hooded man said as he sat back down. "If you are not comfortable with this arrangement, there will indeed be trouble."
Groups of bandits started quietly mumbling amongst each other.
"Now for a demonstration!", the hooded man said loudly, turning the hall quiet again.
Nephiah's breathing got faster, she was told what was going to happen. "So you see the kind of wares we will be selling, the kind of raw material we require."
He looked to Frokwulf who removed the shackles from Nephiah's hands and put his hand back on her shoulder. He then led her onto the floor, they stopped in the middle, in front of the throne.
"This is a slave!", Frokwulf said as if beginning a lecture. He grabbed her linen robe by the neck and ripped it away in one powerful movement, it made Nephiah stumble backwards a couple of steps. The tiny body was covered in cuts and bruises in various states of healing, the room was dead silent.
"Don't let the shape fool you, it is not a person. It's a thing. Created only for one purpose, to serve its master. Without question, without reservation." He went over to the fire spit and took out an iron staff that had been placed inside. "It does not think, nor feel, nor want." He went close to the spectators and showed them the end of the staff, a plaque had been attached to its end, it was glowing in bright orange, giving off strong heat.
The people in the front row backed off a little as he passed them by.
"A person has agendas, desires and most importantly an instinct of self preservation." He stepped in front of Nephiah and looked down at her. "This does not."
She was shivering, yet didn't make a sound. He looked deep into her eyes. He didn't say a word but she understood. She lay down on her stomach, extending her left hand out flat on the floor. He raised the staff and looked at the crowd. "Observe."
He brought the branding iron down and pressed it against the back of Nephiah's hand, a sizzling sound was instantly heard. Her face was showing the agony it caused, yet nothing was heard but the sound of burning flesh and the silence of the crowd. Frokwulf held it in place for a while as he browsed the rows of people, some in shock of the brutality of it, some having greed written all over their faces as they realized the potential of the proposal they were given.
After what seemed like ages, he removed the staff from her hand. She wanted to pull it to her.
"Leave it there.", he said calmly.
She stretched the wounded hand back out. It had a smouldering mark of burned red and black flesh on it, forming the word 'slave'. He crouched down and put his hand on her head. She looked up at him, her teeth clenched as she tried to suppress the need to scream from the shock of pain the fresh wound kept sending up her arm.
Very proud of his work, he smiled. "This is what I like to see."
She gave off a short scream as she woke. She hastily looked around, a wet cloth fell from her forehead. After the initial confusion passed she noticed Brelyna sitting in a chair by the bed, sleeping. Further getting her bearings she took note of the fact that she was lying in a bed and a blanket had been placed on her. She looked beside the bed, there was a bucket filled with red water, cut pieces of what she recognized to be her armor sticking out of it. She raised the blanket to see what she was wearing. Nothing by the looks of it.
Then she noticed the sharp pain in her shoulder. Remembering the stab wound she quickly checked her shoulder. The wound was closed, it felt like some healing was still going on under the surface. Her breathing slowed down, there seemed to be no danger present. She relaxed and sank back into the pillow, she was exhausted.
"Hey...", a soft voice spoke. Brelyna ran her hands over her eyes, got up and sat down on the bed beside her. "How are you feeling?"
No reaction, but she didn't really expect an answer. She took Nephiah's hand and gently caressed it, moving her thumb across the raised mark. The branding had left a thick scar, she could make out the letters just by touching it. A moment passed, the magelight fountain made a calming humming noise. "So the people you are looking for..."
She looked her in the eye. "Are those the ones who did this to you?"
Sadness sunk into Nephiah's face, she looked away. "Yes.", she whispered.
Brelyna closed her eyes and nodded slowly. "Ok." She took a deep breath. "Hhhhokay..."
She looked back at her. "Hungry? I'm starving. Want some?"
Nephiah looked confused. "S-some stew?"
"You read my mind! I'll be right back." She placed a gentle kiss upon Nephiah's hand, got up and stormed out. Nephiah looked at her hand. The moisture of Brelyna's lips lingered on top of the mark.
What a tiny space, the back of a hand, to host signs of such cruelty and such kindness at the same time. She moved her right hand over the mark. It immediately hurt upon touching it, like it always did, she let go.
It didn't hurt when Brelyna was touching it a moment ago. "Huh."
