----------------------
364 Days Earlier
A metal object taps me on the head, waking me up. Looking around, I see a silhouette, outlined by the morning Sun, holding a bronze bowl filled with some white, sloppy gruel.
"Here's your breakfast, runner. The boss says to eat something so you don't die before we can make our money." He says, placing the food within arms length, before locking the cage and replacing the cloth, concealing our presence from the rest of the World.
"Are you alright? Can you eat?" Jasmine asks from my right.
"Yeah, I'm good, thanks." I grunt, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands. She lets out a light chuckle.
"I think you're the least 'good' out of all of us."
"Thanks for doing that by the way, helping with the bleeding." Flashing her a quick smile, before grimacing as the pain returns.
"Oi! Quiet in the cage!" Someone yells from outside.
We fall into a heavy silence, reminded of our captors.
I manage a few spoonfuls of watery gruel, feeling my stomach rumble with gratitude. Looking around the cage, I notice the women staring at me, or rather the bowl. I move the bowl in the air gently, amusing myself, as I watch their eyes following it like hawks.
It wouldn't be fair for me to eat while the women starve, I am a gentleman at the end of the day.
I hand the gruel to Jasmine holding up two fingers, she looks at me with wide eyes.
Quickly nodding her head in my direction, she scarfs down two spoonfuls before passing it on to the next woman.
By the time the bowl makes it way back to me, it's empty.
We travel in silence for a few hours, the bumpy road lulling some of the ladies back to sleep.
Fiddling with the bowl, I look at Jasmine, she really is beautiful. In my World she would be called an Arabian beauty. There are some pretty girls in my class but Jasmine really takes the cake.
Even through her unflattering maid outfit, her curves are evident, from the slimness of her waist, to the size of her bust. I'd probably be sporting a hard on by now, if I wasn't bleeding out of a hole in my leg.
Instead, "How did you know to put pressure on the wound?" I ask in a low voice.
She looks up at me with a tiredness in her eyes, "I was training as a healer, before I was captured and brought to these lands."
"You're a slave? And now you're being sold again?" Raising my eyebrows.
"Yes, silly isn't it. Now I will be sold alongside those who bought me." Gesturing sadly to the women seated next to her.
Silence descends once again.
"I've never seen anyone do something so mad though. Shoving cloth into a wound like that." One of the better dressed women whispers to Jasmine.
"I've seen a lot of arrow wounds, treatments and recoveries. But what you did is unique. Are you also a student of medicine?" Jasmine asks me.
I shake my head, not caring to explain any further. My hand jumps as pain shoots through my finger. The bowl was chipped. A flicker of hope sends my heart racing.
Waving at Jasmine to get her attention, I signal for her to come closer. She approaches, her eyes questioning. For the second time that morning, her eyes widen with surprise.
I start sawing away at her ropes.
The other women quickly catch on, some eyes express worry and fear, others showing hope and determination.
An hour passes. Fibre by fibre, I saw and pluck away at Jasmine's rope. Until she's able to pull it apart through strength alone. Without wasting a moment, she begins to untie everyone else.
Finally, we're all free. We smile at each other basking in the glow of our minor victory for a few precious moments.
Gesturing for us all to gather round, we begin quietly discussing what we should do next.
....
As night falls, we come to a halt. The cover is yanked off and the door opened. I immediately try to get my bearings, knowing that every piece of information is vital now.
It's a dark night, clouds obscure the moon. An occasional gust of wind throws the trees into a frenzy, their branches whipping against each other. Perfect.
All of us had replaced the ropes over our hands in an attempt to hide the evidence of our escape.
From what I can tell, we're still in the countryside, surrounded on all sides by trees. The convoy sits on a dirt path, stopped in front of a wrought iron gate. The night sky is obscured by clouds, perfect for what we were attempting.
The boss appears, "Get out boy, you're up for sale."
I step out, wincing in pain, before turning to the gang member holding the door open and tap him on the shoulder, getting a whiff of his rancid body odour,"I left the bowl in there, I think one of the women might have hidden it." The man blinks at me, then nods a smile creeping up his face.
"Get over here boy!" I hear the boss's voice shouting to me from the other side of the cage.
I slowly limp around to where he's waiting for me. The boss is standing with most of his gang in front of a large group of well-armoured giants. And I mean giants, they must be 7 foot at least.
Amidst these guards is a woman, comically short in comparison, dressed in lace with a black veil obscuring her face. Evidently this is the one who might buy me, for 'The Pit'.
Whatever that is.
"Well whaddya think? " The boss asks the lady in black, I shiver, feeling her cold gaze look me up and down through the veil.
Looking around, I edge towards the gang member nearest me, his sword hanging on his hip. I need to cause a distraction, a serious one at that. It would help the girls get awa-
"Boy!" I pause, heart in my throat, thinking I'd been discovered, I look up towards the woman.
"Yes?" I ask in a small voice. Silence.
The lady taps the giant nearest to her, and in a smooth, nonchalant motion, the giant throws a short sword to my feet as the lady issues a single instruction.
"Kill."
Her word rings clearly through the cool evening air, cutting like a knife through the wind.
For a moment, me and the gang members all stare at the blade in collective confusion.
Knowing a better chance won't come again, I shove the guard nearest to me away and snatch at the sword, swinging it towards the boss as quickly as I could.
Acting on pure instinct, he sways backward, stumbling away from my mad swing. The rest of his men jolt into action like puppets on strings, as if they still can't believe what just happened.
Gritting my teeth, I ignore the pain in my leg and before the man in front of me can draw his sword, I cut his hand off at the wrist.
It's a strange feeling. The sword is so sharp and I swing so hard, there's barely any resistance, his flesh giving way with ease.
The man screams, falling to the ground, I turn to see the other men with swords drawn, advancing slowly, as a group towards me.
My back now to the giants, teeth gritted against the pain.
I poke at the gang, trying to keep them at bay. As I step over the handless man an idea comes to mind. Grabbing him, I drag him upright and press my sword to his throat. Desperately trying to think of a way out of this.
"Come any closer and I'll bleed him out right in front of you!" I threaten in as steady a voice as I can manage.
Some of the gang look hesitant, pausing in their advance.
A hand places itself on my shoulder, a light, feminine hand. I gulp.
"I said to kill, not to maim. Finish him off." She whispers into my ear. Such a gentle voice, as if she was asking me to go down the road and pick up some milk.
Sweat beads on my forehead, the pain in my leg screaming at me, begging for rest.
Can I do it?
Take a life?
But before I can ponder the morality of my situation any further, the boss gets up and starts walking towards me with speed, a murderous glint in his eyes and a sword in his hand. I tense up, pushing the sword deeper into my hostages throat. Too deep.
The boss stops, eyes widening.
A wetness coats my hands and runs down my arms. The man I'm holding trembles and gurgles.
I can't breathe. Letting go of the man I stumble backward. Watching in shock as he slumps to his knees trying to hold his throat together.
Everyone is silent, watching him spasm and gasp and gurgle for several minutes, until he too, falls silent.
It's alright. He deserved it...But I still feel a weight settling over my chest, making it harder and harder to breathe.
"What a mess. If you had cut his throat properly, he wouldn't have suffered for so long. Not that it matters. I asked you to kill and you did. That's enough. Here's your money slaver, some extra for the dead man." The lady in black admonishes me as she throws some gold coins to his feet.
"Bring the boy, our healer will fix him up." She instructs, turning on her heel.
Still processing what just happened, I stare at his body. Frozen. Shocked.
His blood soaks into the dirt.
A giant armoured hand plants itself on my shoulder, steering me through the iron gates as the slavers recover their comrades body.
Stumbling along, my eyes stray to the covered wooden cage.
Liquid drips out of the bottom, staining the ground beneath.
I smile to myself.
Steeling my mind, I look forwards, to the stone mansion where my fate would be decided.