The Forgotten - Chapter 5

  They blinked quickly as they were led from the dim room and into bright morning sunlight from a door Vance had not noticed earlier and cursed himself for his inattention.  The air was cool and refreshing after the humid, smokey slave room.  Most of the slaves shivered in the cool winter morning, goosebumps rising over each slave’s exposed skin.  They were led on a twisting path through the sea of prospective buyers and to a high raised platform where Cull was waiting next to a large gong.  Cull’s slave auctions were legendary and people from all over Kalthar would visit.  The first woman, a slovenly older woman who was stripped naked and common looking with a bent back was pushed ahead to stand next to the cruel man.

“A scullery maid,” Cull called to the crowd.  Robust and hard working.  She has most of her teeth.  Shall I start the bidding at one silver?”

A hand went up and the bidding began.

As the bidding continued more and more slaves where herded into the waiting pens, where the names of the owners were painted on their arms so that the owners could collect them after the auction finished.  Astrid began to panic.

“Where’s your friend?”  She whispered to Vance who stood protectively behind her.  “Relax.  He’ll be here.”

“Yes, but before or after we’re sold?”

“He knows who you are.”

“How the hell would he know?”

“I saw him earlier and pointed you out to him.”

“How?  When?”

They both silenced as a large man flexed his whip threateningly.

  Two hours later the pretty man had been bought and Astrid was pushed up onto the raised platform.  She raised her chin as she stood next to Cull, her face was pale but her expression cool.  There was a lusty sigh from some of the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Cull called to the crowd.  “A rare and expensive piece of property this one.  A tender 18 or 19 years old.  As you can see she is a lean, nubile and healthy young woman.  The colour of her silken dress denotes her status as a virgin slave.”

There was an admiring murmur through the crowd.  Astrid stood tall, despite her small stature, refusing to show any emotion but defiance.  Vance felt a wash of admiration for her.  He looked across the sea of people and noticed Sigwulf appraising her with a hungry smile.  Sigwulf too had to admire her bravery.  There was a gasp as the thin dress was whipped away from her.  Astrid did nothing as prudish as to try and hide herself as she clutched her purse in her hands.  To do something so ridiculous would show fear, and it was not as though the wrap had hid anything anyway.

Sigwulf’s smile became wolfish.

Cull grabbed her by her shoulders and turned her around in a full circle so that bidders could examine her from all angles.  She made no resistance, the drugged smoke she had inhaled all night having its effect on her, numbing her ability to think clearly.

“As you can see,” Cull called to the crowd as she finished circling.  “She is healthy with all of her teeth and no scaring.  A magnificent specimen.  She is young and fully mature.  Shall I start the bidding at 50 gold pieces?”

Several hands were raised.

  Cull swung hard and the gong sounded out in a resonate tone.  “Sold,” Cull called.  “For 450 gold pieces to the man in red.”

Astrid looked at the man and felt sick.  He was grossly overweight, balding and appeared none too clean.  She glanced about, desperate to see men on horseback swooping down to save her.  No swooping came as she was ushered into the holding pens where she had the name of her new owner painted down one arm.  Disgusted and still feeling a sensation of  numbing shock, she looked back to the stage and saw Vance walk confidently to stand next to Cull with his hands tied together in front of him.

“Gonna kill you, damned evil bastard,” Vance said softly of Cull.

“Gonna try, and fail epically,” Cull muttered back.  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he called.  “Last item of the day.  One healthy male.  Prime age and in excellent condition.  Only 25 years old so plenty of life left yet.  A prime young stallion for any rider prepared to put him through his paces and break his spirit.  Skilled with a sword and on horseback so a potential man-at-arms or bodyguard.”

Vance spat at Cull who ignored the younger man.

“You’ll meet your whore mother before nightfall, bastard,” Vance murmured.

Cull kept grinning at the crowd as he circled the knight for the all to see.  “Who’s the one in chains, boy?”  Cull sneered the reply.  “Bidding starts at 50 gold,” he called to the crowd.

  A hand was raised and there was a commotion at the rear of the crowd as Sigwulf forced himself to the front.

“Cull,” Sigwulf called.  “I want my stolen property back.  Give him to me, along with the last girl you sold, and I’ll let you live.  Fair deal.”

Cull looked at the young knight who stared at him with grim determination, and he laughed.

“Kill him,” he said to his men.

The men advanced on the dark haired man who whipped his sword from its sheath.

“Vance,” Sigwulf shouted and tossed another sword to his companion.  Vance caught the sword by its hilt and leapt from the platform.  He skewered the first slaver who attacked him and sliced open the throat of another.  Several men in leather armour tried to advance on the men but were kept at bay by their flurry of blades as they moved steadily closer to the slave pens with every bloody step.

Most common place knights were already a force to be reckoned with, but the Galadon Knights had been renowned as the finest fighting force in the world and those skills had not diminished during their long exile, but had been refined and improved upon.

Cull realised this and also realised that they wanted Astrid, alive.  With her as a living Human shield, or valuable hostage, they would not dare attack him for fear of harming her.  She was his only hope at surviving this attack.  Astrid also instinctively knew this as she saw the knights fighting, then Cull running for the pens.  Her eyes narrowed as she tried to clear her mind, watching Cull sprint towards the slave pens and her.

  Fuelled by fear, Cull ran through the women who were whimpering with fright from the sudden eruption of violence.  Finding Astrid, he grabbed her by her hair and forced her to stand before him, the cool blade of his small knife held firmly against her throat.

  Somewhere in Cull’s twisted mind something switched.  He began to reason that if Astrid was not here, the knights would not be here either, therefore they would also not be thirsting for his blood.  His eyes filled with mania, he forced Astrid to the ground, a knee against her chest, his mouth wet and the first few glistening drops of saliva were flecking his lips.

“This is all your fault, whore,” he abused her, his spittle spraying Astrid in the face.  “They’ll have no reason to stay here if you’re dead.”

Astrid’s eyes were wide as she reached into her purse for her pendant and pulled it out.  Catching the sunlight with the amethyst she swiftly moved the beam into Cull’s eyes, momentarily blinding him.  Releasing his hold as he grasped at the painful beam, Astrid scrambled out from under him like a rabbit, only to have him recover and grab her by her hair again, throwing her to the ground.  Astrid fell hard, the wind knocked from her.  Desperately sucking in air, she tried to recover as Cull pinned her to the ground once again.  He pulled his arm back, bunching a fist and threw it forcefully forwards.  As the powerful blow connected with Astrid’s ribs she heard a sickening crack and her vision immediately clouded with pain, eyes screwed tightly shut.  She heard a woman’s scream.  Her scream.  Cull’s knee was still heavily against her chest as she struggled for every breath, desperately trying to get away from the the heavy man that was crushing the air from her lungs and dripping drool onto her face from his leering smile as he enjoyed her pain.  Astrid opened her eyes to see the madness in Cull’s eyes, his face contorted with rage as he pulled his fist back for another strike, spitting running down his chin.  She screwed her eyes tightly shut again and tried to curl herself into a ball to protect her most vulnerable areas.

She heard the fist strike flesh, yet there was no pain.  Astrid opened her eyes again and saw Cull’s balled fist caught in the hand of a man with dark hair and clothing, effectively stopping the blow.  The strange man had caught the fist before it struck her.  She recognised him as the man who had appealed her sale earlier.  The man’s face was in a grimace of anger, teeth clenched, and his clothing was sprayed with blood, yet his movements appeared tightly controlled as he used his other fist to strike Cull in the chest, knocking him backwards and off Astrid.

She realised that this man was expertly trained before natural shock began to take over once again and she was still with fear.

“Vance,” the man shouted.  “Stop playing and get your arse over here.”

“Ware cavalry!”  Vance shouted the reply.  “Shore attack!”

  Shore attack.  An assault on the beach.  Cull’s slave auctions were legendary and this small coastal town had been ransacked before by seafaring opportunists, pirates, carrying fur-clad barbarians, thugs and horses.  Slave auctions meant slaves and much ready coin, too tempting for some to resist.