Vasha - Noircat302 (reading list .TXT) 📗

Chapter 1

“Tighter, girl!” The guard smashed his gauntleted hand against the back of my head.

I winced a little and glanced up at him.

The rain had stopped a few hours earlier, leaving a thick mist hanging in the leaves of the Burntwood Forest. The ground was still damp and leaves lazily dripped with the remaining moisture.

Luckily for us, the soft ground made it easier to dig the posts for the bridge we had been working on for weeks. It also helped that I was there to make sure the wood and rope were dry. If the knots of the ropes had been tied while they were wet, they would have shrunk when they dried. That would have caused quite the catastrophe when the bridge was crossed.

I took a deep breath and said, “Barashka!”

The ropes tightened and I looked at the guard for approval.

He nodded.

I wiped at the damp mud, trying to get it off my long skirt before I tightened my thick, dull grey apprentice robe around me and stepped back.

I savored my moment outside the castle walls. For some reason it didn’t feel the same being in the gardens as it did being out in the open, wild forest. Not even the wildlife was the same. My eyes caught a distant deer. The sight actually took my breath away. He was looking directly at me, his large anglers like hands reaching out to caress the needles of the pine trees. His ears slowly swiveled around, but there was something kind about his copper eyes.

A bird drifting lazily in the still-grey sky caught my attention. I could just tell it had a white head, a stark contrast from its black body. It was larger than any bird I had seen in my life. I looked up at the guard next to me just as his eyes scanned in my direction. His blue eyes paused on me.

“What?” he demanded.

I pointed, “What’s that?”

He followed my finger and then threw me a confused look, “The Bald Eagle?” Then his face shifted into surprise. “You’ve never seen a Bald Eagle?”

I bit my lip and shook my head. His voice and face were full of disbelief. It was such a common thing for him to see, he couldn’t believe another human being hadn’t seen it. His eyes kept darting to me, still filled with disbelief. I continued to look around, taking in as much as I could before I was taken back to the castle.

I savored the scent of the pine needles, and the humid smell of the fresh earth and wet dirt. I tried to ignore the sounds of the bridge building and slaves. When I did this, I could hear the sound of the river gouging its way through the earth.

“Everyone here! Now!” a guard growled, throwing me out of my moment of peace.

The bridge was finally finished.

The soldiers ushered the slaves to the side of the road. The soldier I’d spoken with grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him, putting himself between me and the other slaves. I folded my arms over my chest and started to shiver a little as the coldness seeped through me. It seemed to be getting colder. That would mean either more rain or snow, even.

With the horrible late summer weather, the bridge that should have taken us only a week to complete had taken us nearly a month. The bridge connected two steep cliffs together, minimizing the travel time between our city and Hrada, the closest city, by two days. King Baqoure would be extremely pleased that it was finally done.

The captain of the group pointed in my direction. I was shocked until I realized that he wasn’t looking at me, but next to me. I glanced at the boy standing next to me.

I shook my head at myself. Of course there’s nothing to worry about. I’m the personal slave of their wizard. And his apprentice. They wouldn’t risk me getting hurt and making him angry.

“You, first!” he yelled at the kid.

The kid was probably fifteen and larger than the rest of us both in height and weight. He was chubby and his muddy blonde hair stuck to his head. There were twenty of us in the group. Thirteen adult men, three adult women, three teenage boys and me, a teenage girl.

The kid walked forward and the captain pointed at the bridge, “Walk across. If you make it, the bridge is done. If you don’t…well…” He smiled.

The kid nodded, but hesitated before he took a step onto the planks. The wood groaned in protest and the knots tightened. He stared at the knots, expecting them to undo or break.

They held. I knew they would.

He looked back at the guard, his brown eyes wide as if asking if he could come back. The guard merely waved him to continue. The boy took a deep breath and walked the whole length of the bridge, which was wide enough for a wagon.

“Bounce on it!” the guard yelled.

The boy did as he was told, and walked to different areas of the bridge and bounced. It continued to hold. The wood and rope protested, which is to be expected from a brand new bridge, but it wouldn’t break. The spells I had used on the rope would prevent them from slipping.

“Good. Everyone else, go,” the captain yelled.

The guard grabbed my elbow and held me back. I stopped next to him, without saying anything. I was nothing to them, but I was everything to their wizard.

The slaves walked out onto the bridge together, hesitant but obedient. The bridge still held, even with all of the additional weight. However, that still wouldn’t equal the weight of two oxen and a fully loaded wagon.

“Fine!” the captain yelled. Everyone started walking back off the bridge. The captain turned toward the soldiers, “You know what to do. Bind them together.”

The soldiers moved routinely and tied their hands behind them. I was bound last and watched as the other slaves were connected with rope tied around their waists. One of the soldiers held my elbow tightly, pulling me next to him. I found this rather humiliating, but I couldn’t object to it.

We followed the only road through the thick forest, toward the city. Rencheston was hidden deep in the forest, protected by thick, high walls and towering trees. No mountains were around us, just barely visible to the distant east of the town. Rencheston consisted of two walls: an inner wall that protected the castle, and an outer wall that protected the homes and markets of our people.

We entered the outer wall and were led past the all-too-familiar filth of the marketplace. I had learned a long time ago how to hold my breath so I wouldn’t have to smell or taste the garbage lining the streets.

Nothing here ever looked new, just worn and old. Faded, but brightly colored makeshift tents and wooden tables lined the streets, hugging the walls of the city, cluttered with whatever trinkets or food the people wanted to sell and buy.

We filed through the inner wall, heading toward the castle and were immediately stopped by the sounding of trumpets. The soldiers shoved us to the side of the entrance and we anxiously watched for an explanation for the sounding of the trumpets.

No sooner had the trumpets sounded than people were cheering and laughing. I couldn’t tell why the people were in such an uproar and the guard held my arm tightly, preventing me from leaning forward to see past the protective iron gate. I had to wait for whatever it was to get to us.

Soldiers started filing through the entrance and I understood. They had returned from battle against Vasha, a city over one hundred miles north of our city. I watched the exhausted guards slumped on their equally-exhausted war horses. They were all covered in mud and soaked to the bone. Scattered among their ranks were people bound to the horses by their wrists, forced to walk.

Prisoners of war.

New slaves.

One immediately caught my attention when he stumbled a little and received a sharp kick in the side. He was the only boy in the whole group. He was probably nineteen, maybe twenty. His jaw only tightened and I wondered why he didn’t look up at the soldier who had struck him. No. He kept his eyes forward, head held high, ignoring the jeers from the people and stares from us. His jaw clenched and his face was stern, but I could tell it was out of pain and something else that flickered behind his eyes. He looked more exhausted than any of them, even more than our soldiers.

His clothes were completely covered in mud and I could barely discern the difference between his jacket, coat, and undershirt.

Then I noticed his hands.

Even though bound behind him, they were strong, barely rough. Mud covered them and I noticed some blood as well. They looked like the hands of a lover or friend. Someone one could trust.

I quickly shook my head and looked at the other prisoners, just as exhausted as the soldiers, though clearly embarrassed. They kept their heads down, but I could see their eyes dart around them, searching the crowds and city.

I returned my gaze to the boy as he approached. I shouldn’t really call him a boy, he looked older than me.

His sea green eyes suddenly met mine. His eyes were the most captivating thing of all of his features. For some reason, when he looked at me, I didn’t feel like I should look away, as I did with everyone else. He kept walking, but watched me for a second before his eyes drifted back toward his path.

“Come on,” the captain commanded us.

I kept my eyes on the soldiers until I walked around the corner of the castle, where I could no longer see them. The slave’s entrance of the castle sat on the back wall of the castle between the barn and stables. We were untied and ushered to our different quarters.

I was led to the bath where I hurried and cleaned myself. I was secretly curious what they were going to do with the new slaves. For some reason there was a sense of excitement building in me.

I shook my head, There’s no reason to be so excited. They’re just slaves like you now. You probably won’t ever see that boy again.

I rolled my eyes and cursed myself before I brushed my long, brown hair out. I was given fresh clothes and pulled on a clean wizard’s robe, still grey, before I walked up to the main level of the castle. I would have to go past the throne room to get to the wizard’s tower, which was tucked on the front left of the castle.

I rounded the corner and stopped.

All of the prisoners from the war were kneeling on the ground in front of the king, who was pacing back and forth in front of them.