Another Place, Another Time
by Andreya
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Two men walked together, deep in conversation. It was rare for warlords to get together in such a manner but Krykus had come up with an ingenious plan and he needed the services of an equally malicious partner. Mezenteus, in his opinion, fitted the bill perfectly. His idea was simple, attack several villages in one fell swoop, round up all the villagers and hold the biggest slave market the known world had ever seen. His one problem had been his army was not big enough to carry out the task, hence the involvement with Mezenteus. So far the plan had worked perfectly. Three villages on the Pallene peninsula had been taken simultaneously, Sane, Olynthus and Potidaea and one, Appolonia to the north. The villagers had been rounded up and herded into the mountains south of Appolonia to await the arrival of the buyers. It had been a pity that some of the villagers had put up a fight, nothing the armies couldn't handle, but the result had been many deaths. Such a waste. Surely a life of slavery was better than dying needlessly. It had been no matter, there were still hundreds left to be sold off to the highest bidders. Krykus rubbed his hands together in glee. The thought of all those dinars sent his pulse-rate rocketing.
The young peasant girl sat slumped in a wooden cage. She had cried herself close to exhaustion. There were no tears left to fall from her rapidly dehydrating body. The loss of her family had left her numb. Why, oh why had her parents tried to defend her and her sister? Surely they could see it was useless. A deep sob shuddered through her small frame. She should have done more to help. The attempt she had made had left her flat on her back and stunned, she had watched as the soldiers had dragged her family away. After that she had hidden. They had caught her just the same. That was days ago. Now she was a captive, along with hundreds of others, awaiting….. what? An existence worse than death? Finally she lay down and sleep, of a sort, took her.
She woke with a jerk. It was morning again. How long had she been in the cage? Two days, three? She couldn't tell any more. She lifted her head and glanced around. Row upon row of similar cages lined the clearing. Groups of soldiers were making their way along the lines, stuffing something through the bars of each cage as they went. The girls turn came and she was presented with a small water skin and some stale bread. So, they were to be kept alive after all. She fell on the food ravenously. For someone with such a small build, she possessed an enormous appetite and as a consequence probably suffered more than most of her fellow captives. The water, though warm and muddy looking was a blessing. When she had finished she felt a little better. Sitting back against the cage she pushed a stray strand of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and her innate curiosity getting the better of her, began to take an interest in what was going on around. Her row of cages was near the edge of the clearing, next to a line of picketed horses. On the far side, to her left, a large group of soldiers were constructing a platform, in front of which was an arena that had been cordoned off by a row of barrels. All around groups of soldiers busied themselves with different tasks. The girl knew what this meant. They were to be sold off as slaves. As the morning wore on she became more and more angry at the thought of what the army was going to do with them.
What happened next, happened so quickly her already over stretched senses had trouble taking it all in. There were sudden shouts from the platform area and into the arena in front thundered a mounted army, all screaming and hollering like a mad hoard from Tartarus. This army was headed by a fearsome looking woman whose sword was raised and whose voice echoed above the general racket.
"Take them all! Kill the soldiers, take the slaves!"
The leader was engulfed in the confusion that ensued. The picketed horses began to panic, breaking their lines and crashing into the nearest cages. The girl felt herself tumbling over and over as a frightened horse lashed out and smashed the cage to bits, sending splinters of wood in all directions. She rolled on and came to rest under the lee of a large rock. Scrambling to her feet she dashed between other cages, and headed for a grove of all trees on the other side of the clearing. The air was filled with the screams of terrified villagers, of metal ringing against metal and with the yells and curses of fighting men as each army struggled for supremacy. A pall of choking dust hung over the battlefield.
The girl ran on, gasping for air, trying to pull oxygen into her burning lungs. Dust stung her eyes and she clenched them tightly, causing small, gritty tears to squeeze out from the corners. She dodged nimbly around the fighting soldiers, ducking behind rocks or dropping to all fours when necessary, to slip between the groups battling on foot. Darting past a particularly ferocious skirmish she caught a blow from the butt of a staff between her shoulder blades; a blow that sent her crashing face down to the ground. Winded, she tried to push herself up and was half turning when she caught sight of the warrior running towards her, sword raised and wildness blazing from the beautiful features. The girl lifted an arm in a futile attempt to fend off the blow she knew would finish her and in a way, she would welcome it. But her eyes glinted, not only in fear but also in defiance. The warrior hesitated a fraction of a heartbeat as their eyes met and locked. In that heartbeat something passed from the warrior to the peasant. In that heartbeat the warrior was hacked down by a sword swipe as a mounted soldier flashed by.
The girl's first thought was to flee while she had the chance but something stayed her feet. There would be no more running. She turned back and knelt beside the fallen warrior, shielding her from further assault. The warrior's eyes were closed now but a deep groaning indicated that she still lived. Glancing quickly around, she grasped the warrior's arm and tried to drag her away. Why am I doing this? she asked herself. I should be escaping not helping an attacker. It was next to impossible anyway, the warrior was heavy and small jutting rocks snagged her armour. No-one, it seemed noticed her efforts. The heat of battle had driven both sides crazy, as if Ares himself had taken a giant spoon and was vigorously stirring the pot.
But it was not quite true that no-one had noticed her struggle. A pale gold war-horse trotted into the girl's field of vision as she strained on the warrior's arm. The horse came right up to the warrior and nudged her, whiffling through the raven hair. The girl tried to shoo the horse away; right now it scared her more than the warrior did. The horse took no notice of the young woman and nudged its mistress again, whinnying softly. The warrior rallied at the sound. The girl dropped the arm and backed off a step or two. The warrior mumbled something that sounded like 'Argo'. The horse dropped to its knees and the girl realised what was happening. She pulled on the warrior again, urgently imploring her to move. The warrior's eyes opened briefly, bleary and unfocussed and with a great effort pulled herself up by the saddle horn. The girl pushed her as far across the saddle as she could, grasping on to the leather strapped skirt as the horse rose again to its feet. She gingerly picked up the reins and holding them at arm's length led the horse away from the carnage into the relative peace and safety of the scrubby undergrowth beyond.
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The above work is the property of Andreya and may not be used, copied or distributed without her permission.
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