Private Tales Flee

[Gerald Mercia]

"Get a move on, we ain't got all night!"

Scurrying around a dozen different carriages and wagons were a number of hooded men, lifting and moving crates into them to be shipped off. Rain fell upon them as they worked, as did harsh words from their apparent supervisor who wasted no effort in forcing the workers under him to rush as fast as they could while he did little more than shout. There did seem to be some transports, however, that were already loaded with cargo, and were avoided by the workers as they carried out their tasks.

It wasn't until they were more or less finished that Gerald, who had also covered himself under a hood, fell into their numbers and managed to do so seamlessly. He could have done so at any time, but why waste his energy labouring with these lot? He just wanted out of this damned city. Alliria had nothing left for him now, and in fact after helping that Anirian escape he'd found his likeness of an image and his description posted around the local area. He was wanted.

So much for the Allirian Guard. If only he'd been able to explain himself...

But such was not the case now, and he found himself settling into a seat on one of the larger wagons nearly ready to depart. A glance behind revealed to him a barred entryway into the rear, and several individuals sitting therein...

Prisoners.

His attention turned forward, as casually as he could, and he seemingly paid no mind to those entrapped behind him as the caravan started forward...

---

"We're moving," whispered one of them, an older man in tattered clothes, "I can't believe this is happening..."

"Never been sold before," asked the woman, who was younger and clothed a little nicer, "you end up getting used to it. Hey, knife ears," she said, turning to the other one among them, "what's your story?"

---

Isla ​

 

[Isla]

Was it an absurd thought- to feel as though you were growing accustomed to the darkness within the cramped wooden walls? Perhaps.

To her knowledge, she’d been the first in this cart. Way back when someone had placed a cloth sack over her head in the middle of the night and carried both her and her younger sister off with them, putting them in separate carts.

Or so she would assume.

The carts had stopped for rest three times before they had removed the sack and by then, it was clear she was alone.

For the time being at least. She didn’t bother counting the sunrises and sunsets before she had seen another living being without a hood. What was she going to do with such pointless information? Write a book?

City to city, all the way from way down in what they called ‘The Spear’, they picked up women, men, children. People that clearly didn’t share the growing comfort with their enclosure that Isla did. People that tried to group up. Tried to formulate plans to escape. As if they had the guts.

Isla had already pushed her luck with the guards as evidenced by the teeth marks she’d left in the wood she’d attempted to chew through and the two scars on display: one on her forehead and one on her cheek.

The latest additions to their herd were no different. Determined and angry. However, as soon as the wheels began churning once again…

Hey, knife ears. What’s your story?

Isla’s ear twitched as the woman called out to her. What was it with all these people calling her that? It’s not like her ears were actually sharp. She spat on the woman, “Spoon ears.” She muttered. An attempt to cross her arms was thwarted by the chains holding her wrists to some metal hooks on the wall.

“I was taken from my home.” She was not interested in conversation.

A captive snickered. A younger man. He was not dressed particularly well, but it was nicer than the filthy rags Isla sat in. “Are all leaf lickers this stupid? We were all taken. She’s askin’ whereabouts you came from and why you’re here.”

Had she not been chained down, her fist would have surely made its home in his face. But, alas, she was stuck with them until their next stop and so she would tell them, to the best of her ability, what she believed was true.

“I’m from The Spear. Judging by how cold it is here, I’m assuming it is far south.” Her voice was deeper, with a softness that didn’t match the hardened expression on her face. “It's not like up here. Big cities everywhere. We stay out of the way. We don’t engage with you people so I don’t know why they attacked my family in the middle of the night.” She sighed, looking down. “I don’t know if my mother, father, or brothers were killed. I only know that my sister, Enna, and I were taken. I could hear her screams as they carried us out of our home and put us in these fucking boxes. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Gerald ​

 

[Gerald Mercia]

Gerald was a not a particularly soft man. He'd seen and been through his fair share of hardship in his life, growing up poor and rising the ranks of the guard on nothing more than his own merit. But, the conversation taking place behind him opened his eyes to a reality, to a horror, he had never hoped to come in contact with.

“I was taken from my home.”
​

From beneath his hood, he peered over at the man sitting next to him who was holding the reins and guiding the wagon's horses forward. A quick glance up and down revealed nothing, but he did notice the hilt of a blade resting on his side, just under his cloak. He looked ahead, seeing little more than the rear of the wagon ahead of them. That one lacked the barred rear, and was stacked with mostly crates, and a few individuals sitting freely in the back. A look to the other side and down the side of the wagon looking behind, he could see several riders escorting the caravan through the street. Everyone was hidden under a hood, and the rain did little to help see their faces.

No matter, it only meant he was as obscure as they were.

...I don’t know why they attacked my family in the middle of the night.”
​

He swallowed hard, though he hid it.

These are not prisoners... these are slaves, he thought to himself. Slaves, being shipped right through Alliria - just another example of the corruption he had come to see. Were he not so horridly outnumbered he'd have acted there and then for the hate he felt in his heart, but he had no choice but to wait. He had no choice but to even consider the possibility these people were beyond any help from him. How was he to contend with all these foes?

---

"The Spear," echoed the older man, "that's a long ways from here..."

The woman nearly smirked. It was clear by now that she, like she had declared, was used to this kind of life. The way her eyes moved down and up Isla in an almost predatory way spoke to the confidence she felt in such a meager situation, "so how long?"

"She means when were you caught, leaf licker," the younger man chimed in again.

---

Isla ​

 

[Isla]

"Mhm." The chartreuse shade of her eyes almost glowed in the darkness of the cart, holding onto the gaze of the old man. "Been here a while." Far too long...

Once again, the young woman prodded into her life with that cocky young man snickering along as he insulted her. "How long-" She was cut off by the young one. "Couldn't tell you if I wanted to. I stopped keeping track long ago. Suppose I'll find out when we get to wherever we are going." She looked towards the barred window. "Why don't you ask one of them? Assholes won't even let me out to see my sister."

Truly, she had no idea if her sister was still traveling with them, let alone still alive. Seeing her when they arrived at their final destination was the only hope she was still clinging on to, though it would be a sight for sore eyes if they were to meet again. The chieftain's eldest daughter now looked like nothing more than any other peasant off the streets of Alliria with torn rags for clothing and dirt caked in her matted blonde hair.

"Where are they taking us anyway? You seem to be well versed in whatever the hell is going on." Her question was directed towards the woman, but her eyes hovered over the pair driving the cart.

Gerald​

 

[Gerald Mercia]

Whatever had caused the woman to become so smug seemed to dwindle away as her eyes fell to the floor. It was as though the elf's question had drawn her from whatever fiction she'd written around herself and back into reality. Back to sitting in this creaky, dark prison. Back behind those jailing bars.

A sigh.

"You belong to them now," she said, not lifting her eyes, hiding her difficulty, "you'll go where ever they take you, whenever they take you."

It was true, she was well versed. But she was one of the lucky ones, if you could even think it. She was smart, she was manipulative, she was able to make her way. Most others...

Her eyes shot up, but her face didn't move, "you'd be better off forgetting about your sister."

"Keep it down in there!"

---

"I can't even believe it, that captain actually rounded up a pair of pointies!"

Gerald didn't say anything back, only grunted and looked off a bit. He had been hoping his companion would turn out to be the silent type. This, as Gerald was about to find out, was not quite the case.

"I hear the cap'n has a special buyer for the little one, someone in the north."

"Yes, I know, that's why we're heading north," Gerald replied, bluffing of course. He had little choice but to attempt something.

"Ahh so he let you in too, did he?"

Feeling the man's eyes on him, Gerald turned to face him, saying, "he told most of us, really."

The man guiding the reins blinked a couple of times, and scratched his chin through a thick, grey beard as he examined Gerald for a moment. All the while he held a perplexed look on his face. After an uncomfortable moment the man's attention was stolen by the sound of chatter coming from in the cart. He banged on the wooden frame and shouted for the prisoners to keep it down. Then he turned his attention forward again, casting Gerald a side-eyed look.

"I don't recognize you," he finally said.

At this point, Gerald didn't really have anything else left to lose. Placing himself and his life in willful jeopardy as a profession and made him accustomed to fearing for his life. So with no one or nothing left for him to safe-guard but himself, there was nothing that rose up in him with discomfort or fear. He was steady. He lifted an eyebrow, leaned toward the man a bit and said, "whatever it is you've had, you bloody relic, I'd like some. I wish I'd forgotten talking to you earlier... Four hours man, by the gods."

He settled back into his seat and cast his eyes outward again, doing his best and managing quite well to appear as casual as possible, unphased by the very real potential to be called out. It would seem, however, to do the trick. The older man chuckled, cursing a little under his breath and then "admitting" that he did in fact recognize Gerald.

"Cap'n said all we have to do is get to the portal stone, then he and the pointies are going through. A little while later, he comes back, we get a lot of money, and then we head north to drop the rest of this trash off..."

Gerald again nodded, trying to appear almost agitated to seem as though these were all things he did know. And still, it continued to work, as the older man continued to blab on about one thing he shouldn't have said to the next.

---

Isla ​

 

[Isla]

You belong to them now. You’ll go wherever they take you, whenever they take you.

“I belong-” Isla’s snarling was cut off by the shouting of one of the men driving the cart. Her voice turned to a whisper. “I belong to no one but my father and the people of Nylahone. No filthy human is going to claim ownership of me. As soon as they let me out of these cuffs, I’ll see to it.”

She focused her attention back towards the two figures she could see past the bars, her ear twitching in their direction as she tried to listen in. All she could make out was something about heading north, which she already knew, and that they would be taking the ‘pointies’ through a portal stone. Whatever that was. Humans and their weird desire for violence and rocks. Isla would never understand.

“How far is the nearest pore-tull stone?” Her pronunciation was a bit off as she turned to the older man, though the question was open to anyone in the cart. "The one up front says we are going to stop at a rock."

Gerald​

 

[Gerald Mercia]

"We've got a few days at least, probably a week or more if the weather keeps up," whispered the older man in reply, casting his eyes out the back, "but they'll never let you out of these bonds... not now..."

The cloud cover was thick, and with the evening settling in it was only getting that much more difficult to see through the pummeling rain. At least they were covered in their cage, never mind the few leaks here and there.

---

The caravan rolled along the muddy path rather slowly. Things had become difficult with the rain's saturation, and their horses could only do so well to pull the weight of their wagons and carriages through the muck, and the rocks that sprang up amid the softened path. It made the road slick and bumpy, causing wheels to slide up precarious inclines and pull harshly on their horses. They proved sturdy enough to handle it, doing well to keep themselves upright and unharmed.

Gerald thought they'd stop to make camp as the road became more dangerous to traverse, but it seemed their leader had no intentions of doing so just yet. And all the while the rain continued to pound against him, soaking him and his "partner," and everyone else guiding this caravan along.

It was almost ironic that their prisoners were better shielded from the elements than they were, but in Gerald's case at least, he was glad for this.

He cast a glance back into the wagon, and looked at each of those inside.

---

Isla ​

 

[Isla]

“Great…” Her voice trailed off, losing any interest in conversation with the older man. He had no fight left in him to even try to get out from the clutches of whatever men had captured them. God’s sake the humans love war, but they give up so easily. She thought to herself, peeking past the two in front to watch the rain. Perhaps their ability to produce like rabbits required some sacrifice of persistence.

Pathetic creatures, really.

At the very tip of what was known as The Spear, rainfall was rare. More often, they had dense fogs from the waters surrounding them. Not to say it never happened. It just never came down as hard as it did the further north they traveled. Had this weather struck her people, they would have been in their homes, hiding and waiting. Praying for forgiveness for whatever sins they committed against mother nature. As for the humans....she found it bizarre that they continued working throughout the downpour. The humans didn’t fear for their lives as thunder roared or lightning struck far off in the distance.

They feared each other more than nature.

Maybe that was what was wrong with them. Unlike the elves, they never formed a bond with the trees housing them, the winds carrying them, the wild that nourished them. Instead, they took advantage of her. They cut her down to build their homes, unlike the elves whose residencies grew around them. They burned her to the ground to build up fortresses impenetrable by man, but when the time comes they will not protect them from her wrath.

“Oi!” Isla pounded the side of the cart with as much force as she could given the small amount of space and cuffs. “Hey, you! Human!”

"The one with the...er...hair..." Her eyes locked onto Gerald’s as he glanced at each one of them. Something about him seemed different compared to his counterpart. She'd recognized the one steering as they had been together for weeks, but Gerald was unfamiliar. A new addition to their strange caravan. “Can we stop this cart? I gotta take a piss but someone forgot to let me out at our last stop.”

Gerald

 

[Gerald Mercia]

“Hey, you! Human...

...The one with the...er...hair..."​

---

​

Gerald's eyes were on Isla just as she shouted at him, the timing of which almost startled him. Because of this, he stared at her with an almost blank expression as she spoke. He remained silent for a moment, looking almost confused until seeming to snap out of it. He opened his mouth to reply but was quickly cut off by his "partner's" sudden outburst of frustration. Gerald's attention darted to him, and then ahead to what had prompted the man to shout.

One of the carts up ahead had taken damage, sliding into a boulder alongside the road and wrecking the wheel, and then some.

The caravan came to a stop.

Gerald looked ahead and listened, and shouts from the front began to make their way down that they'd be starting up as soon as the wheel was fixed. It wouldn't take very long, and hour at most.

"I'm taking this one out to relieve herself. I don't want to hear her bitching the whole way."

The older man, who Gerald had come to know as Enrick, only grunted in reply, still quite frustrated with the sudden situation. At least the rain had eased some. With nothing to stop him, he grabbed the keys and stepped down and walked alongside the wagon. Coming to the back he unlocked the door, swinging it open and inclining his head to Isla to make her way out.

---

Isla ​

 

[Isla]

Much to her satisfaction, or perhaps it was her surprise, the carts began to slow after her demands started. Of course they hadn’t halted their entire caravan just because the daughter of a chieftain had ordered them too. She heard mentions of a boulder viciously attacking one of the carts toward the lead.

Perhaps nature was finally responding to her silent pleas. Sure took her time in doing so.

As the cart shook one last time in its attempt to come to a halt, Isla would peer back towards those she had shared the ride with. There was a smugness in her smile as if to say one final ‘fuck you’ towards the young man and woman while they could all hear the jingling of a key unlocking their prison.

Isla understood his gesture, following as he silently invited her out of the box and led her towards the tree line. She would pause before they made it, stumbling over the chains that locked over her ankles to prevent any running from the elf. “Human.” She spoke with disgust, looking at him like he was vermin.

“Remove the shackles from my feet.” They were far enough away from the caravan that bushes would block the lower halves of their bodies from anyone’s line of sight. “I suggest you do it now, lest you wish to be subjected to the complaints of all the other humans when I come back and stink of piss. That includes the older one driving the cart. The one who doesn’t recognize you…” The smug smile returned to her face. “Now that I think about it...nor do I. Is it common for only one person to join the crew during a stop? I've been traveling with them for quite some time now and I've yet to see a crew change of less than fifteen or so people. Maybe I'll ask the old one about it when we get back."

Gerald

 

[Gerald Mercia]

Gerald looked at her rather plainly while she spoke, showing no obvious reaction to her clearly intolerant tone. One could hardly blame her for Lessat's sake, she'd been stolen into slavery. But, unbeknownst to her, he planned to do something about that. As for her threats... he thought little of them, betting that the chance he was willing to actually help her was one worth taking.

"I'll remove them of course," he said, kneeling to begin removing them, "and hear me out. You are right, I am not one of them, nor am I a slaver," he undid the first of the two shackles, "nor do I intend to be. I did not come to do this, but I intend to set you, and the rest of them, free."

He undid the second shackle.

---

Isla ​

 

[Isla]

I'll remove them of course.

A brow raised in his direction as if to inform him that he was making a poor choice on his part, though she did remain quiet as he continued to speak. She knew as soon as the first shackle hit the ground, she could have ran. Though they were heavy she was confident she could outrun any one of the humans that diseased this land. But she did not run. She paused as the second shackle fell.

"Why?" She demanded, "Tell me why, human, you would willingly free the rest of your kind when you yourself could take this opportunity I've given you to save yourself. Would you risk your life to save these humans? The same kind of animals who ripped me from my bed and separated my family. Believe me, those creatures inside the boxes bear no differences to those leading the carts."

The unmistakable look of disgust tainted her features. "You are peculiar. But I suppose it does make sense to aid a species that appears to be inherently evil."

---

Gerald