Chapter 4: Slave

Aaahh! I HATE this chapter! HATE it! *Runs around in circles screaming* I don't know why I posted it, I hate it! (Okay, you probably get the message.) I was very tempted not to post it, actually. But I did. Lucky you! (Or unlucky you. All down to personal opinion!) Okay, I'll stop ranting now, promise!

Yeah, I know that it probably doesn't make much sense, cos I keep correcting loopholes in the plot. Just try to ignore them, just in case I miss some!

And originally, there was only one really long Akkarin chapter, and then I split into two really short Akkarin chapters.

(Oh yeah, you know the slave that Akkarin fell in love with? I couldn't find her name anywhere, so I named her: Isiben! (With help from my friend, BookBiscuit. (Who is on my favourite authors page, although she hasn't written anything yet) Thanks a lot, if you're reading this!))

Akkarin:

Akkarin was worried. Dakova and the others had met up a few weeks ago, and they had been travelling as a group since. Dakova had presented him as 'my little Guild magician' in sneering tones, and apart from the daily draining of power and simple fetching and carrying orders, had ignored him. Akkarin usually had to stand by his master at all times in order to serve him. Something was definitely wrong…

And they were constantly on the move. Of course, the Ichani usually roamed the land for food and other bounty, but this was different. There was a purpose to this journey, Akkarin could sense that. A purpose fuelled by hatred. He and Takan had exchanged glances a few times, and from his expression Akkarin knew that Takan understood what was happening. And he didn't like it.

"Akkarin!" a sharp voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "Wine!" Observing his master with unconcealed loathing, Akkarin headed to a crate of wine bottles by the tents. He picked one up by its slender glass neck, and held it for a moment. Time seemed to stretch, a moment lasting an eternity. He knew what was going to happen a moment before the wine bottle slipped from his fingers, yet he made no movement to stop it. CRASH! Wine spilt like blood onto the parched land. Like blood… the beginnings of a plan planted themselves in Akkarin's mind, but he ignored them. Temporarily.

"You idiot!" Dakova's voice was beyond angry. He couldn't let a slave embarrass him in front of guests. Isiben stared at Akkarin in horror, her worried eyes framed by thick dark lashes. But he didn't notice.

Bending over the remains of the bottle, Akkarin slipped the largest shard into his sleeve, trying not to cut himself on its sharp edges. Then he cleared away the rest.

"I hope you'll excuse me. My slave and I need to have a little talk," Dakova mocked as he moved out of eyeshot and earshot of his company, whilst they laughed. Stomach heavy with apprehension, Akkarin followed him.

Dakova's eyes glittered with hatred. "How dare you embarrass me in front of all those people?" he hissed. Akkarin tensed, waiting for the blow to come, and looked up when nothing happened. Dakova's eyes were shining cruelly– Akkarin had the feeling that his punishment was just about to be delivered.

"You do know why we're headed to the pass, don't you?" he asked, the concern in his voice almost as fake as his smile.

Akkarin felt the blood drain from his face. Suddenly, everything made sense, and he couldn't believe what an idiot he had been.

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