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– It hurts!
– Go peacefully – then everything will be okay!
Latrich sat at a long oak table and ate dates, spitting out the seeds directly onto the floor.
– Well, well, interesting!
Dorkhand could only see from close up that there was a ring on each of the lord’s fingers.
– Sir, there has been a terrible misunderstanding! I am the prince of the blood! My name is Dorhand! I am the heir of Sartoll! My father’s advisor got something mixed up, and I…
– Be silent! You sucker are now my slave! – Latrich grabbed Dorkhand by the ear, and a tear flowed from pain. – Forget your past life. You will only speak when I allow you to. I don’t like empty chatter. Take him to the barracks.
Latrich pushed Dorhand away, and he almost hit his head on the corner of the table. The same soldier approached him and pulled him somewhere by the collar. When they disappeared behind the door, Dorhand read sympathy on the face of the giant soldier.
– You… be careful with the lord. He has a short temper. It won’t be good for you. What is your name?
– Dorhand. And you?
– Volume. Big Man Vol. Come on, Dorhand, eat an apple. It’s a long time before dinner.
The sour apple juice flowed pleasantly across the tongue. Dorhand only now remembered that he had not eaten for two days.
– Thank you.
– Only you… no nonsense. You won’t be able to escape from the barracks.
***
It stank not only of sweat, but also of sewage. The owner of the inn did not do any landscaping, so the slaves had to relieve themselves in the middle of the barracks. Dorhand sat down on the bare wooden floor, where it was not so dirty. This looks like his home for the next few days. Maybe years. “The main thing is not forever!” – thought the boy. Dorhand lowered his head to his knees. The body itched and hurt. From beatings and burns left by the inhospitable sun on the skin of a northerner. The face of his father appeared in his thoughts. He is now dead. Is your brother alive?
The boy was distracted from his thoughts by crying. Not far from him he saw a girl. The same one that was bought with him.
– My name is Dorkhand. And you?
– Lina.
– Why are you crying? – Dorkhand only now noticed a trickle of blood flowing down Lina’s leg. – Were you wounded?
– Don’t think. The lord touched me. Do you know what I mean? Touched there!
Dorhand nodded, although he did not fully understand what the girl was talking about. He read about something like this in an adult book, but he never fully understood what it was.
– Do not Cry. Everything will be fine. Touched, but remained alive.
– You do not understand anything! He’s a real monster! I come from a rich family. I’m not used to being treated like this. I had a nanny. She taught me etiquette. Do you know what this is?
– I read about it. The traveler Khorel wrote about something like this. In his book about Beelzuvik.
– I’ve been to the Capital. Not once. And then… and then…
She burst into tears.
– My parents were killed. I was rich.
“And I am a prince,” Dorkhand almost said. But then I thought: “I was a prince”
– My father was killed too! – Dorkhand said, and a terrible light flashed in his eyes.
“One day I will avenge this!”
At sunset the food arrived. There is sour porridge in the bowls. They didn’t give me spoons, so Dorkhand, grimacing, stuffed it into his mouth with his fingers. I ate a crust of stale bread and washed it down with unpleasant-smelling water. But this also seemed like a royal dinner after a long famine. Tom quietly put an apple in the boy’s pocket and smiled friendly. At first Dorkhand didn’t like the big guy, but he turned out to be the kindest person. The boy broke the fruit into two parts. He handed the big one to Lina.
– Thank you! – she whispered. Others looked at the newcomers with envy. But one of the slaves looked at them, and therefore no one dared to attack Lina and Dorhand to take away the sweetness or cause harm.
Dorkhand fell asleep as soon as he rested his head on the floor. His father appeared to him in a dream.
The morning began with several blows of whips on the wooden floor. Most of the slaves left the barracks, heading to work.
– Why don’t they take us away?
“It seems that the owner has a more unenviable fate in store for you,” said the slave who yesterday protected Dorkhand from attacks on the apple. “Tam,” he extended his calloused hand.
– My name is Dorkhand. So what is the fate?
– The owner is a sorcerer. He selects slaves to conduct experiments. Many die. And those who are alive lose their own will, and sometimes even their reason.
A shiver ran down Dorhand’s spine. He read in books about sorcerers. Lately, more and more stories have been written about the King-beyond-the-Mountain, one of the new Dark Lords, who settled in the eternal ice of Sanem. The northern lands are many leagues from Sartoll, but do not think that the dashing will remain there forever.
After a while, Tom entered the barracks.
– The owner wants to see you.
Dorhand almost cried on the way to Latrich. The lord personally tore the sleeve of the boy’s shirt. Latrich lowered the iron rod into the flame. And then he left a brand on the boy’s shoulder. He screamed.
– Jump on one leg! – Latrich commanded. Dorhand felt that he had lost control of himself. An unknown force forced him to do everything the lord said, and it was impossible to refuse him. – And you said that you were a prince. A real slave.
Latrich laughed ominously, and Dorhand clenched his fist in impotent anger.
“One day I will take my revenge on you!”
Revenge is not the best advisor, but sometimes there come moments in life when there is nothing left but revenge. She becomes the only thread that does not allow her to say goodbye to the world of the living.
Chapter 3. Escape
They stayed a couple more weeks in the Desert and then headed north. Heather was more common here than anywhere else, so Dorhand guessed that they were somewhere in South Sartoll, in one of the provinces, perhaps Silerine or Hewick.
The spacious castle could not be compared with those untidy barracks where we had to live for the last month.
“But this castle is far from the fortified city of Lindell,” thought Dorhand, sighing. White marble, statues of maidens and warriors of his native city forced Dorkhand to shed a single bitter tear. Memories never give us peace. Or maybe as long as we remember, we live?
There’s something scary about this place. The feeling of unreasonable fear and anxiety did not leave here.
– I’m scared! What awaits us here? – Lina asked. Dorhand repeatedly glanced at Lina’s shoulder as she exposed him. There was no trace of a brand. So, she didn’t have the same fate! Slaves with this mark often walked bare-chested. The sign on their shoulder glowed with blue flashes, like lightning on a stormy night. And the eyes are empty. Dorkhand often lost control of himself. At such moments, he heard the commanding voice of the sorcerer in his head, and could not resist his will.
From the very first days, Dorkhand was haunted by the dream of escape. But there seemed to be no way to salvation. The castle is an impregnable fortress, there were always guards scurrying here and there. And of course, the voice of the magician in my head. But you can’t stay here forever! The people are waiting for him! And revenge for the death of his father. He will kill the traitor Langer. And the whole of Lorraine will turn into a lifeless desert, as it was half a century ago.
One day Dorhand discovered a library behind an unlocked oak door. Books have always been a refuge from the real world, a window into other universes. Therefore, that same night, when everyone fell asleep, the boy secretly went to the mysterious room.
“Runes,” read the book that lay on a rough oak table, not varnished.
“True magic has long been dead,” said the author of the book. – This is the magic of thoughts, words and movements. An experienced sorcerer did not need additional funds. Later they began to use objects in rituals, and eventually even runes and other signs.”
After some time, he saw the rune that was on his brand.
“Rune of Submission. The Dark Lords of the War of the Lords era put one on the shoulder of a slave, and a rune of power on a ring or other decoration. This gave them complete control over someone else’s mind.”
Many of the books were written in an ancient, incomprehensible language, but Dorkhand greedily absorbed even these crumbs of knowledge that he managed to squeeze out. While presenting food to Latrich, he allowed himself to briefly examine the signs on the rings on the sorcerer’s hands. Runes of power. Lightning runes. Magic amplifiers. Only Dorkhand could not decipher the signs on the iron ring.
Latrich worked tirelessly. He sat in the library, making extracts from the book that Dorkhand studied at night. And then he conducted experiments on slaves. Tonight, after an unsuccessful test, slaves carried Durich to throw him from the castle window. Freemen were buried in the Valley of Stones, outside the city, but why would a slave need such honors? Bon died yesterday. The day before yesterday… Why, people were dying every day, and Dorkhand knew that one day his turn would come to take part in the incomprehensible experiment of a bald sorcerer with a scar.
Dorhand glanced at Durich’s finger. Latrich put a ring inscribed with runes on the slave. Dorhand is too smart for his age. And he often practiced the language of runes.
“Looks like Latrich is trying to find a recipe for longevity, or even immortality! He wants to write runes on the ring with his tongue so he can live forever! How many more must die for one to continue to live until he has lived all the lives of the people he killed?”
To say that the slaves were fed disgustingly is the same as remaining silent. Pigs – and besides rotten porridge, sometimes they were given boiled fruits taken from compotes. Sometimes, of course, they spoiled him with beans, but Dorkhand never stopped dreaming about meat. When no one was looking, Tom would sometimes throw in a handful of strawberries or cherries. On Sundays they gave us wine or beer, a whole barrel for the barracks. But Dorhand refused. His father’s words stuck in his head forever.
– Wine is the drink of slaves and the poor. Having drunk themselves into unconsciousness, they forget about chains and problems, and are ready to work again and again, just to drink another glass of poison. But for a prince, being drunk is an unforgivable luxury.
Dorhand wanted to remember. Memory is the only thing left for him.
One day Latrich went hunting, and Dorhand realized that a better opportunity might not present itself. He sneaked into the kitchen. I put dried lamb, a couple of breads and dried fruits in a bag.
***
He touched Lina’s shoulder.
– Come with me?
– Where are you going?
– Get out of here. We need to decide soon. There may not be another chance.
– But this is dangerous! – Lina exclaimed.
– Speak a little quieter. I don’t think it can get any worse. They may kill us – but is the life of a slave better than death?
– I want to get out of here too! Hateful place! – said Tam, one of the slaves.
– And I!
– And me too!
There were about ten fugitives in total.
“I thought about leaving on my own, it’s not so noticeable,” Dorkhand said.
There was a dissatisfied murmur from the comrades.
“But I have one idea for this case,” said Dorhand, after thinking for a moment. – I have some dream grass. Let’s add it to Tom’s food. And when he falls asleep, we’ll go quietly.
That’s what they did. Having waited until the Big Man had closed his eyelids and was snoring loudly, the friends tiptoed along the corridor, avoiding the guards who were scurrying back and forth.
Something grabbed Dorkhand by the leg, and he almost screamed in surprise. Something cold and unpleasant. A lump of fear rose in my throat. The boy stood up as if in a daze.
– Where are you going, scoundrels? – a creaky voice rang out. He looked back. And he saw that all his comrades were shrouded in black smoke, which took on the shape of people.
“But Latrich does not have true magic! He can’t stop us from a distance! So this is just some kind of trick, cunning.”
– Dorhand, I hate spiders! – Lina almost burst into tears. The shadows on her leg turned into spiders. And Dorkhand’s limbs were shrouded in snakes. He tried not to pay attention to the vision. I looked for something that could help me get out of the trap.
– Dorhand. I told you that this is dangerous, that it’s not worth it… – Lina burst into tears without finishing her sentence.
– They are not real! – Dorkhand found it hard to believe the words he said. The snakes realistically touched the skin, wriggled and hissed. For a moment Dorkhand thought that the words flashed through the hiss:
“I will kill you the same way I killed your stupid father!”
Dorhand clenched his fist, but managed to pull himself together. He raised his leg and saw under it on one of the stone slabs a rune with the image of a snake.
– Do not step on such slabs! – Dorhand said. – These runes cause visions!
As soon as you removed your foot from the image, the ghosts and snakes melted into thin air.
They walked calmly to the end of the corridor. They hit the two guards who were standing at the entrance on the head. Tam blocked the way for one of the remaining men when he tried to raise the alarm by ringing the bell. He shook his head and threw a knife at the guard. The weapon slammed into his throat, and he sank to the floor, making gurgling sounds.
– Return to the stall, pathetic slaves! – the guard who remained on his feet snorted with contempt. It seems that he is too stupid to appreciate the superiority of forces. Or he considered slaves worse than himself. Tam hit him in the face, and he staggered and fell to the floor. After a few minutes, no one was blocking the path to the gate.
Freedom greeted them with welcoming coolness. A light torrential rain was falling.
– This is good! The dogs that are put on our trail will not find us right away,” Tam said.
It smelled like it always did after rain. The wind pleasantly ruffled the hem of his shirt. In the distance a wolf howled and an owl snorted.
– Freedom! – said Dorkhand.
– Do you have a plan? Where to go? – Tam asked.
– What a plan! Tam, I only lived eleven springs! There are grown men among us.
