Prince of Slaves

 “Oh, go dance on your mother’s grave, Heskal.”

 “At least I had a mother,” he said, snapping the reins and pulling ahead of Alric. “Get into position. The prince will pass by soon.”

 “I don’t know how you can willingly agree to kill an unarmed boy in cold blood.” Alric shot Heskal a dirty look.

  “The boy is twenty, and last I checked, you’re here too.”

 “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Alric muttered in disgust, turning his horse into the thick brush.

  Haskel watched with narrowed eyes. If that fool messed with the mission and he didn’t get paid, it was coming out of his pocket.

  The plan was simple. Prince Dryden traveled with only two guards because it was urgent he return home, and his entire party would hold them up. It was Alric’s task to take out the guards while Heskal put a knife through the prince’s heart. It would be days before anyone noticed his absence.

  Heskal trotted into the forest and threw the reins around a low branch before scampering back to the road and up a tree, where he settled on a thick branch. Carefully, he tucked the medallion he wore under his shirt, patting it affectionately, and pulled out a dagger and whetstone to pass the time. The screams would alert him when his quarry was near.

  A grunt and thud preceded someone bellowing, “Run!” Hooves clomped against the ground and a yell of pain reached Heskal’s ears. He peered through the branches and saw the prince racing his horse through the trees, head low to the horse’s neck. Heskal dropped the whetstone into his pocket and flipped the knife in his hand. He had to time it just right…

  Heskal dropped from the tree. The horse, unable to take the brunt of his weight, collapsed, throwing him and the prince to the ground. He rolled easily to his feet, but Prince Dryden hit hard and he tried to pull away from Heskal, gasping for breath. The assassin kicked the prince onto his back and straddled him, pinning his arms to his side.

  Fear flooded the prince’s eyes as the sun flashed off Heskal’s dagger. He grinned. He lived for the moment his prey realized it was all over. The dagger slashed down and stopped halfway to its target. The boy had worked an arm free and threw it up, stopping the blade inches from his chest.

  Heskal chuckled, “Don’t drag it out, boy. It’s easier if you accept it.”

  Prince Dryden fought off Heskal fiercely, but he wasn’t strong enough. Heskal forced the blade closer, inch by inch. Tears ran down the boy’s cheeks while he pleaded, but Heskal heard none of it as mounting excitement from the anticipated kill surged adrenaline through his body.

  With mere centimeters to go, the prince kicked and cried out for help. Heskal growled, long greasy hair falling in his face as he put his body weight behind the weapon.

 A force slammed into Heskal’s side, knocking him from the prince and sending his dagger flying. The boy scrambled to his feet, retching and shivering, and a sharp pain in Heskal’s temple caused his vision to blur, then everything went black.

***

  Heskal became aware of a blinding pain in his head, made worse by the constant swaying beneath him. He groaned and peered out from a half-closed eye and found himself slung over the back of a horse with his hands tied behind his back.

  He twisted to one side and saw a man with light blue skin and fins on his forearms. He scowled. The man was a piscine, half man, half sea creature.

 “What are you doing so far from the sea, fish boy?” Heskal sneered.

  The piscine glanced at him from atop his horse but said nothing.

  “Why can’t you just kill him, Kael?”

  “These thugs didn’t just chance upon us, my prince. They knew we were here and how many of us there were. We must question him.”

 “You think I will sit quietly for you until then? We are still some ways from the castle and you’ll need to sleep sometime.” Heskal twisted until the boy came into sight and winked at him.

  The comment earned him a boot to the face. Heskal felt his lip split and blood splattered on the ground. Although he didn’t lose consciousness this time, his vision blurred, and he hung in a daze until they stopped for the night.

  The piscine, Kael, unslung him from the saddle and dropped him unceremoniously on the ground. Heskal groaned and spat congealed blood from his mouth, twisting until he propped himself up against a tree.

  Prince Dryden was blowing on a small fire, struggling to get it going.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Heskal said.

  The prince turned his back and ignored him.

  “Do what?” Kael appeared out of the darkening woods with firewood in his arms.

  “The fire,” he nodded towards it. “I don’t trust these woods in the dark.”

  “Neither do I. There are Aardwolves in these woods. It will keep them away.” He dumped the wood next to Dryden, who added one to the fire.

  “It’s not the wolves I worry about.” Heskal glanced about the forest. He had assumed they would stop for the night, but he hadn’t imagined they would be stupid enough to announce to every bandit and rogue knight in the area where they were.

  “I’ll take first watch,” Dryden said.

  “Are you sure?” Kael and Dryden both glanced at Heskal.

  “I’m sure.”

  Heskal watched the prince move about the camp. He added another log to the fire and nestled a pot filled with water between the flames. Dryden paced while he waited for it to boil, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground.

  When Kael breathed deep and easy, Heskal decided it was safe to speak. “So tell me, Prince Dryden, what emergency at home is so great your safety is severely overlooked?”

  The boy didn’t rise to the bait, but Heskal could tell the comment got to him. He stopped pacing and sat on a log, adding herbs to the boiling water to make tea, biting his thumbnail as he worked. Heskal frowned. His own son had the same habit.

  “I wasn’t lying, you know. A fire in these parts is a bad idea, especially for an unguarded prince.”

  “I don’t take advice from assassins,” Dryden said, risking a glance at Heskal. He shuddered and looked away quickly. Heskal cocked his head.

  “Was that your first brush with death, boy?”

  Dryden didn’t answer, but Heskal could see the truth easily enough.

  “I see the way you shake in your boots when you look at me, the hate in your eyes.” Heskal leaned towards him.

  A soft whinny and stamping from the horses made him fall silent. An uneasy feeling descended on Heskal, as if several pairs of eyes were watching him.

  “Dryden, cut my bonds,” he said, trying to see past the light of the fire.

  “What? No.” Dryden looked offended. Obviously, he noticed nothing amiss.

  “Someone’s in the woods with us. If you don’t cut my bonds, we may all die,” Haskel said with a growl.

 Uncertainty flashed across Dryden’s face. He glanced from Heskal, to the trees, to Kael’s sleeping form.

  “Now, Dryden!”

  A war-horn shattered the silence of the night. Kael was up in seconds, but it didn’t matter. A group of twenty surrounded them. Heskal grimaced. None of the newcomers were very tall, and all of them had copious amounts of hair and muscle. The miners from the north. There was only one reason so many would be this far south.

  Kael stood with his back pressed to Dryden’s, his fins flexed outwards to reveal spikes lining them, but they were nothing compared to the miners’ spiked clubs and throwing axes. One move and all three of them could be dead in seconds.

  “Don’t even think about it, blue man.” The miner who spoke had a heavy accent and a bushel of dirty blonde hair. “You have two choices. Come with us, or die.”

  If Heskal was given a choice, he would have fought and died, but nobody asked him. They dumped him on another horse with none other than Prince Dryden tied next to him.

 Dryden’s horror at being strung up next to Heskal was evident. The boy spent the time whispering with his eyes closed. He refused to acknowledge the assassin.

  It wasn’t until they were standing outside the Seaside Port and iron rings were being slapped on their wrists did Dryden break his silence and ask, “What’s going to happen to us?”

  “We’ll be shipped to the miner town North of here and sold into slavery to work in one of the Dragon Isle Mines.”

  “But slavery is illegal here. Seaside Port is the Queen’s port. We would know if such activities were happening,” Kael said from behind them. A passing miner rewarded him with a slap to the back of the head.

  “Obviously not,” Heskal said once the miner had moved down the line. They weren’t the only ones being prepped to be sold. Six others would share their fate.

  They shuffled in single file through the back streets of Seaside and into the left-hand side of the port where a battered ship sat moored to a dock. People were yelling and the smell of salt in the air made Heskal’s nose itch.

  “We have to go on that?” Dryden asked, his face white.

  “No talking!” A whip snapped above their heads and the line of prisoners cowered.

  They were thrown roughly into the ship’s bowels. Bright eyes on dirty faces shone from the shadows, staring at the newcomers. The metal grate slammed shut above their heads, locking them in.

 Heskal crinkled his nose at the smell of dirty, sweat stained bodies. Dryden dropped to his knees with a sob. His regal clothes were stained and in tatters, but still stood out from the rags the rest of them were wearing.

  Kael was at his side instantly, doing his best to comfort the prince. Heskal moved away, taking stock of the space available to them. There wasn’t much, but he found a nice pole to lean his back against, sliding down until he sat on the floor.

 He had just been thinking about a nice nap when there was a tap on his shoulder. Heskal looked around with a glare. An old woman with round eyes and tangled gray hair crouched next to him.

  “Do you know him?” she asked, but she didn’t say it out loud. She asked using signs she made with her hands.

  Heskal frowned at her and signed back. “How did you know I would understand?”

  “I saw you talking to the boy on the docks. You signed as you talked.”

 Heskal sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position. He had learned the nonverbal language for his son, who was born unable to make a sound. There was a time when he would speak and sign, but that was many years ago.

  “Who are you?”

  “Just a slave,” the woman signed. “You can call me Onyx.”

  Heskal eyed her, wondering at her motive. “I know him. He’s the prince.”

  “The Prince of Alarya?” Onyx stared at him, her dark eyes eerie in the shadows.

  “The very one.” Heskal glanced at Dryden and Kael, who were whispering hastily together.

  She didn’t move for a while, merely stared at the prince and his steward until she finally signed slowly, “And who are you?”

  “Just a man,” Heskal said. There was a shudder and muffled commands reached their ears as boots thudded across the deck above. “And off we go.”

***

  Heskal counted the lot of them lucky when they anchored off shore of the miner’s capitol city, Ashton, before midday. Torch fire dotted along the shore, marking the city walls. Behind it rose a fearsome mountain range, the tops hidden in steel gray clouds. Sitting nestled within them was an enormous, active volcano. The very top glowed red and spits of lava and ash spit out regularly.

  Heskal shivered, watching slaves being shoved into rowboats four at a time to be taken to shore. He hung back until he came level with Dryden and Kael.

  “Get any sleep?” he asked, keeping his fingers clenched.

  Dryden only glared at him. His dark red hair stuck out and dirt had smeared across his face.

  “As much as one can expect,” Kael said.

 One of the crew mates shoved the three of them into a rowboat. To Heskal’s surprise, the fourth person to join them was Onyx. She hunkered into the bottom, peering at them from behind her hair.

  The ride was brief and tense. A cool breeze ruffled Heskal’s hair, and he shoved his bound hands between his thighs for warmth. Volcano or not, the Isle of Dragons was too far north to be anything short of cold. Ice crystals glittered in the bright sun, and Heskal almost smiled. If he wasn’t about to be sold into slavery, the scene might have had a sort of beauty.

  Dryden slid into the bottom of the boat with Onyx for warmth. Heskal glanced at Kael, who was rubbing his hands together, pale blue skin shining white with cold.

  When they landed, they were herded into a long low wooden building. A bar thudded into place on the other side of the door, locking them in. Heskal supposed this is where they would stay until the auction. Onyx interrupted his musings by grabbing his arm.

  “Stay with him.”

  “The prince?”

  “Of course, who else?” Onyx glared at him.

  “But he hates me and has every right to.”

  “So? He doesn’t have to like you for you to keep him alive.”

  Heskal sighed and looked over at Dryden and Kael, who were watching him sign to Onyx.

  “You can talk to her?” The prince asked, staring fixedly at Heskal. He nodded, relieved Dryden was speaking to him.

  “How can a monster like you know something so beautiful?”

 Heskal’s heart dropped at the sneer in the boy’s tone. Kael opened his mouth to say something, but Heskal silenced him.

  “I wasn’t always like this, boy, I had a family once too. A son of my own who, like Onyx, could not speak. He would have been about your age now.”

  Dryden had enough dignity to look abashed and asked no more questions. He turned and walked into the crowd of curious faces. Kael followed quickly, throwing Heskal a look of pity.

  “Protect him,” Onyx signed at him again.

  “He doesn’t want it,” he said and stalked away. Onyx sighed in frustration and went after Dryden and Kael.

  Heskal sat against the wall and closed his eyes. It didn’t take long for sleep to take him.

 ***

  “Line up, you sorry excuses for workers.”

  Heskal jerked awake at the sudden commotion. The slaves jostled him while they lined up in front of a miner with arms as big around as his head.

  “I will direct you into one of three groups. There will be no switching. We will know if you try and you will be punished.”

  The man in front of Heskal was trembling and trying to look small. Behind him, two slaves were whispering to each other. He strained to hear what they were saying.

  “... a real prince?”

  “Yes, here with us right now.”

  “Is he going to save us?”

  Heskal didn’t hear the rest. His blood ran cold. What would happen to Dryden if someone important found out who he was? With a shake of his head, Heskal told himself it wasn’t his problem. What did he care if they hauled him off to ransom?

  The line went quickly and Heskal found himself in front of the miner, who jeered at his raw wrists and greasy hair.

  “To the right,” he said and pointed. Heskal followed his finger and came upon a group of people huddled together. Out of the four of them, only Dryden accompanied him. The boy stared at the ground, his lips pursed and his eyes red.

  “He’s in our group.”

  “Which one is he?”

  Heskal could hear the mutterings about Dryden and realized some of the slaves stood around him in a loose shield. When he had been a knight, most of the common people loathed the royals. But, he reasoned, Queen Zinnia had ruled differently than her predecessors.

  “Alright, settle down, quit your talking! Your group has been sold to the North End Mines. You will have food and water during the two day march. If you try to run, you will become food. Keep close if you value your life.”

  The miner gestured for them to follow. Not a single set of eyes looked farther than the ankles of the slave ahead. Heskal followed suit. It wouldn’t do to be singled out now. He glanced towards Dryden, who also followed along. For each staggering step, Heskal took an extra half, meaning to keep the prince in sight.

  Nine hours into the march, keeping a watch on the boy paid off. They were so far north the night was a perpetual twilight and Heskal clearly saw when Dryden fell. He was at the prince’s side before he knew what he was doing. Frozen tears were stuck to Dryden’s cheeks, and he couldn’t control his breathing. His body shook and the swirling snow and ash stuck in his hair.

  “Dryden, you must get up,” Heskal said, his voice cracking with lack of use.

  The prince glanced at him, his eyes dull.

  “They’ll leave you here to die, boy.”

  The other slaves split around them, reaching down to touch their clothes and hair, murmuring words of encouragement. One took off an outer jacket and draped it over Dryden as he shuffled by.

 The subtle way the slaves cared for the prince, someone they could have easily hated, gave Heskal only one option. He pulled Dryden’s arm over his shoulder, making sure the jacket still covered him. Dryden struggled weakly but didn’t have the energy to fight.

 When they finally stopped for the night, all the slaves huddled together on the ground, which was warmer than the air because of the magma bubbling beneath it. When Heskal released Dryden, the boy immediately staggered away and fell in with a group of dark-skinned slaves who welcomed him.

  Sighing, he lay back on the hard ground, joints groaning and aching from the demanding march. The heat was barely enough to warm his frozen skin, but he wasn’t about to get cozy with anyone.

  A few stars shone through the last vestiges of light, and a green glow burned on the horizon. Yrridans Comet was back again. Another year had passed, marking a decade since the passing of Heskal’s wife and son. He closed his eyes against the glow, a single tear freezing as it fell.

***

 The second day was no easier than the first, but they were at least given a strip of jerky and a cup of water for breakfast. Heskal slipped Dryden his portion, and the prince was so ravenous, he didn’t refuse. The assassin knew how to go hungry. The boy, he suspected, did not.

  The day dragged on and Heskal’s strength was waning. He wasn’t the only one, several slaves had dropped already, their bodies left for the scavengers.

  It was well into the afternoon when a familiar sound reached Heskal’s ears. At first he dismissed it, but the sound of hoofbeats became impossible to ignore. He turned and a horse and rider appeared from the snow and rode hard to the front of the line.

It was some time before they came cantering back. To everyone’s surprise, the rider stood in his stirrups and, when he spotted Heskal, trotted over. Beneath a hooded cloak and scarf covering his face, all they could see of the rider were his eyes. A gloved hand held out a piece of folded paper and when Heskal took it, he winked and rode off.

  Stunned, he flipped open the letter and read:

   At the height of Yrridans Comet, be ready to run. Make sure everyone knows.

  A surge of hope gave Heskal the energy he needed. The crowd parted as he stealthily made his way to Dryden. The boy spotted him and made to move, but Heskal grabbed his wrist and shoved the note into his hands before he could protest. Dryden’s eyes grew wide. Ignoring Heskal, he whispered frantically to the woman next to him, who turned to her friend, and soon everyone was whispering to each other.

  Heskal ripped up the note and shoved it in his mouth, the thin paper melting on his tongue. The comet was already a third of the way across the sky and by tomorrow evening, it would be directly above them. Until then, Heskal had other things to think about. The North End Mines were visible now, torches whipping about in the wind and a huge double gate was opening.

  They almost made it.

  The train of slaves was slow going and the miner in charge was stalking his way down the line, questioning people. Those who displeased him were given a taste of his knuckles. It didn’t take long for Heskal to discover why.

  “You can think I’m stupid all you want, but I’m not deaf. Which one of you is calling himself a prince?”

  No one said a word, their eyes riveted to the ground as they tried to become invisible. The miner raked his eyes over them until they rested on Dryden, who hidden behind several others. He reached between them and dragged Dryden to his side. The prince cried out in pain as the miner shoved him to the ground and grabbed his hair, pulling his head back until their eyes met.

  Anger bubbled in Heskal’s chest, but he couldn’t act rashly without risking the boy’s life.

  “Is it you, boy? The slimy little worm thinks he’s a prince of what? Slaves?” He laughed and jerked Dryden around, shaking him when he didn’t answer. The prince cowered, his hands held up to protect himself.

  “Fine. If no one will come forward…” Quick as a snake, the miner flung Dryden to the ground and pulled a whip from his belt. Heskal dashed forward, throwing aside a young woman to reach Dryden.

  A blinding pain erupted across Heskal’s cheek as it broke open beneath the steel tip. Blood poured from the cut, but he didn’t flinch.

 “It was me. I made them call me Prince.”

  The miner’s eyes narrowed and Heskal was afraid the man didn’t believe him, but then he broke into a cold smile.

  “I knew there was something about you I didn’t like. On your knees, Prince.”

  Heskal dropped, took off his shirt, and gripped his medallion for strength. He shivered, but knew any of the lashes could become infected if they beat the threads of his shirt into his body. Plus, it was warmer without holes.

  He didn’t make a sound until the seventh lash, when the pain became unbearable. He howled as sweat rolled down his face, gasping for breath between each lash until the end finally came. Barely conscious, Heskal was aware of being pulled to his feet. Agony swept through him and it felt like his back was on fire. He tried to take a step forward, realized he couldn’t feel his body, and fainted.

***

  The first thing Heskal felt upon waking was a burning pain in his back. It went beyond anything he had ever felt before.

  “You’re awake.”

Heskal blinked blearily and, to his shock, found Dryden with a rag and warm water.

  “I wish I wasn’t,” he said thickly, spitting out a gob of blood. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly sundown. Everyone’s back from the mines.”

  “Rahk,” Heskal said, the old swear word tumbling from his mouth.

  “You cut it close. Can you move?”

  “I don’t have a choice.” He shifted and felt each stripe on his back crack and break. He grunted, but sat up and slipped his shirt back on.

  “What’s that?” Dryden asked, pointing at this chest.

 Heskal glanced down. The medallion he had given his son was safe around his neck. He slipped it off and held it out.

 “A reminder that good still exists in the world, thank you for helping me.”

  Dryden gave him a crooked smile and slipped it over his head. A look of concern replaced it as the ground started to shake.

  “It’s time. Let’s rally the troops.” Heskal pushed to his feet, felt a wave of nausea wash through him, and stumbled.

  Dryden sighed in indecision, but in the end, he took hold of Heskal. They rushed from the drafty low building and saw slaves grouped together around the yard staring westward. Heskal and Dryden followed suit and the reason for the trembling ground became clear.

  Red, orange, and yellow dragons, each one as long as two men, were bounding across the barren land. Their underbellies glowed from the fire within and they shot flames into the sky as they roared. Miners scattered in all directions when the dragons leapt the wall. Never had they needed to fight off more than one before, and here were fifteen.

 Heskal and Dryden watched with mouths open as the dragons pounced on miners and sunk their teeth into them. A small red dragon snaked its way over. Onyx waved and slid from its back.

  “Onyx! You’re alive!” Dryden cried. The old woman pat the dragon’s leg and it signed to her. She smiled and signed back.

  “Now I’ve seen everything,” Heskal said, rolling his eyes.

  An orange dragon skidded to a stop near them. Kael jumped down and ran to Dryden, hugging him.

  No one saw it, but Heskal heard it. A whistle, a thud. Blood seeped through Kael’s shirt, a bolt protruding from his back. Heskal whipped his head around and saw a miner with a crossbow. When he saw Heskal looking, the man paled and turned to run.

 Kael fell, and Dryden screamed. Heskal forgot his pain and grabbed the boy around the middle.

  “We have to go, or we will be next!”

  Onyx jumped onto her dragon as Heskal dragged the kicking and screaming prince to the orange one. He forced the boy up and pulled himself up after him, wincing in pain. Dryden sobbed into Heskal’s chest as the dragons took off on thick wings, flying the slaves back to Alarya.

***

  They landed on the far side of the forest, half a day’s walk from Pinesdale.

  “Why can’t they take us all the way?”

  “Onyx says they can only go so far. They breath brimstone and prepped for the trip by eating more rocks to keep the fire burning in their bellies. If the fire goes out before they get back, they will suffocate and die.” Dryden glared into the crowd, but his shoulders slumped and all the anger drained from him. “Please, make your way to the palace, I will make sure you have everything you need to restart your lives.”

  The free folk cheered the prince and Heskal nodded approvingly. Dryden had given these people hope and he would have their loyalty from then on.

  Onyx slipped away, making her way to Pinesdale for horses. Heskal and Dryden went as far as possible, but Heskal could barely walk and blood soaked his shirt.

  Before the day was up, Onyx returned with a thunder of hooves. After a quick break, they were off towards Kingston, Dryden’s home.

  After many long hours in the saddle, Heskal sighed with relief when the turrets appeared over the hill. They crested it and discovered a band of knights loitering at the bottom.

  “It’s Sir Erik and a bunch of the city guardsmen!” Dryden said and kicked his horse into a trot. Heskal and Onyx followed, giving them a front-row seat to the volley of arrows loosed by the guardsmen. A shaft thudded into the ground next to Dryden, making his horse rear and retreat.

  “Run!” Heskal screamed. Onyx’s eyes were wide with fear as another arrow smashed through her eye socket. Heskal rushed towards Dryden, jumping off his horse to push him from the path of another volley, but he was a second too slow. An arrow thudded into Dryden’s chest, forcing him against Heskal. Blood seeped from the wound and the boy’s head drooped.

  “Not again,” Heskal said to himself, cradling Dryden close. Tears fell and his body shook as he saw his son in his arms again and the knight who killed him looming above. Carefully, he lay Dryden on the ground and stood up slowly, turning towards the knights.

 “Look guys, it’s old Sir Heskal. Do you think the Queen would give us a bounty for his head?” Sir Erik laughed and his guardsmen followed suit. While distracted, Heskal charged, pulling a sword from the closest knight’s scabbard and stabbed upwards into his neck.

  No one laughed now as the knight gurgled and fell from his horse. Heskal growled and Sir Erik slashed at him. Heskal parried, but a guardsman came up behind him and his wounds slowed his reaction time.

  The sword slid through his chest with ease. Heskal glanced down at the blade, blood spattering from his mouth as he tried to take a breath. The man pulled the sword from his body and he dropped to his knees, wavered, and fell next to the boy. A sob tore from Heskal’s throat as blood poured into his lungs.

 “Enough fun,” Sir Erik turned his horse, “We must continue our search for Prince Dryden.”

  Tears burned Heskal’s eyes and he gripped Dryden’s hand as the knights rode off. Without warning, there was a squeeze back. Dryden sat up, coughing, and the arrow fell from his chest, stopped by the medallion.

  Heskal smiled and closed his eyes for the last time.