Fable - Ask Under The Desert Sun

[Vica]

The hot sun was glaring down on them all, and she could smell the stench of sweat and festering wounds even now. She may have been far from home, but the unforgiving and brutal sun was just the same here as it was in Cortos. It was cathartic in a way, taking her back home for even a moment away from her reality in bondage.

Rusty manacles were clasped around her wrists and ankles at all times, and her hair was a frazzled mess. Where she once wore a shiny pauldron and custom fitted armor, she was now in filthy rags that she had worn for many days now. How many had it been? She had begun to count, but she stopped when she passed two months.

She had no name here other than “the Viper” in the arenas for her precision strikes with the blade. If she lived this life long enough, her name would slip away from her just as her humanity began to. Her belief in the sun god was the one thing guiding her through such trials - the same sun that beat down on her today.

“Get in!” A soldier gruffly shoved her along. She and a group of other gladiators were to be transferred to a new barracks. It was there that they would be groomed and trained to fight for nobles of higher rank and the Emperor. It was considered a ‘step up’ from the audience they had now, and there was exciting chatter about two meals a day instead of one.

She climbed into the wagon with the others, pressing against the malnourished and sweaty men. Flies buzzed around them all and some of them had open wounds with maggots in them. She sighed and tilted her head back against the bars of the enclosed cage, closing her eyes.

The journey would take at least two days, and they would likely not be given any food and water the entire time. She expected a few of the gladiators to die along the way, and she knew the journey would be treacherous and through harsh and arid terrain.

 

[Hark]

"Escorting slaves?" Ishak scowled, "This is beneath me."

"No task is beneath a loyal subject of the throne so long as it serves the Empire."

He glared daggers at the elven vizier but bit back his venomous retort. The unspoken accusation was clear. Emperor Gerra's magistrates still did not trust him. They sought constantly to test the limits of his honor. With a mocking salute the Ragashan noble spurred his horse away without another word. Such slights would do little to absolve him of the Imperials' distrust but he cared not.

Although nothing like grand Annuakat, Mamsis was a vibrant city in its own right. Trade from its river port brought all kinds of valuables including exotic chattel for Amol-Kalit's fighting pits. A journey across the desert would be arduous for there were few water sources between here and the capital. Conveying goods along the Baal-Asha was a far safer route but required several more days and throughout the Empire gladiators were seen as little more than commodities. So what if a few died during transit?

"So you're the one they sent to look over our shoulder?" a swarthy man called Narsis was the group's taskmaster and Ishak decided that he didn't like him already, "Wonderful. Cargo's already loaded, we're losing daylight."

"You will address me as ibn al-Athir," he grabbed hold of the taskmaster's reigns, "First I must pray. You will see that each man is given water."

"This some kind of jest?"

Ishak backhanded Narsis off his horse with a mailed glove. He would not tolerate such disrespect from a slaver.

"Unless you would share from your own canteen, might as well give them a fighting chance while the city's wells are close at hand."

Without another word he swung one leg up and over, dismounting his horse and sinking slowly to his knees into the desert sands. The cavalier leaned forward and abased himself before Annuk, whispering benedictions only his god could hear.

 

[Vica]

Excited whispers broke through the cacophony of flies buzzing around. Her eyes flew open as the slaves around her pressed against the bars to take a closer look. She and the others had been subjected to cruelty from Narsis ever since they had arrived. He took pleasure in tormenting those under him, especially if they happened to win their battles to anything less than thunderous applause.

“The Viziers will hear about this,” Narsis grumbled under his breath as he slowly got to his feet. He limped away to get a bucket of water, muttering every curse he could think of and wishing the very worst for Ishak and his insolence.

Even from here she could see the man knelt down in prayer. He was detached from the buzzing markets and chatter around Mamsis, entirely removed from the bleating goats and the shouts of merchants. She was distracted when Narsis returned with a bucket and a ladle, dipping it in and holding it out for each slave to drink.

She had to shrink back to let the smelly and lumbering men fight over one another to take a sip. Narsis drew out some water for her and her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t need the pity of anyone that worships the false god emperor,” She spat out loudly enough for Ishak to hear, venom dripping from her words. Narsis lost his patience and promptly splashed the water across her face, walking back towards Ishak.

“You see?” He said gruffly, “You give them an inch, they take a mile. Ungrateful rats. They deserve nothing more than being scraps for the arena beasts,” He hoisted himself atop his horse, preparing to leave, “That bitch especially won’t last long with her constant sinful talk about the emperor.”

Ishak ibn al-Athir

 

[Hark]

Ishak ignored the slaver's curses, utterly assured that he was under no mortal threat. Narsis was as much a prisoner of Imperial decree as the nobleman. He would not dare risk the vizier's rebuke nor ibn al-Athir suspected was he keen to test his mettle against a truly capable warrior.

He showed no outward reaction when the Viper spurned his charity, making her defiance against the Empire known with a splash. The crusader arced back up into a kneeling position and offered a few final words of faith to the desert winds.

"Sinful?" he tightened his mount's saddle hardly sparing the returning Narsis a glance, "Perhaps. Yet I suspect this one knows more of true faith by now than you or I ever will."

The slaver stared at him aghast, faced tightened in consternation as he tried to work out if Ishak's words had been heretical or not. God-Emperor. It troubled him, to be certain, this lip service to something that was ultimately less than a man. By divine conquest Gerra had earned the right to call himself Emperor, so taught Annuk, but the djinn's delusions of godhood tasked ibn al-Athir. Tested his faith.

While Narsis set about marshaling his men the Ragashan cantered alongside the slave wagon under his charge.

"Peace be with you child of the Great Sun," he called out to she who they called the Viper, "You are Cortosi, yes? Will you not drink?"

Ibn al-Athir offered her a water flagon off his own belt. It might have struck Vica as odd to hear him speak of the Radiant Church seemingly without animosity. Even before the Empire had come Amol-Kalit and Cortos had warred for many reasons over centuries. Chief among those disputes was religion. Neither Annuk nor the Cortosi sun god suffered kindly to competition.

 

[Vica]

Narsis opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish out of water. He looked around nervously as if expecting lightning to strike him down for even being in proximity of such heresy. He promptly turned away from the scene to resume his duties, no doubt planting the seeds of rumor into the minds of anyone that would listen. Narsis took great pleasure in watching others suffer, and this was especially so when they dared make a fool of him.

She was back to having her eyes closed when she heard the man bite back at Narsis. This was enough for her to press once more against the bars of her cage, a fire igniting in her eyes that hadn’t been there in a long time. It was the same fire that danced when she wielded her sword and shield. It was the fire that her enemies saw as their last as a fleeting glimpse before the Viper struck.

For a moment she simply stared at the man, taking note of his hazel eyes and features. She half thought to remain silent and let him walk away. She saw these gestures no different than the occasional passerby that tossed scraps to the starving cats and dogs on the street. Was it truly a greater mercy than ending their suffering?

“You ought to be careful,” The words flew out before she could stop herself. She reached a hand to grasp the flagon, “Speaking anything that isn’t akin to licking the emperor’s ass may see you in this cage right beside me,” The faintest ghost of a smile played on her lips. She tilted the flagon and took a drink, quickly handing it back to the man before another gladiator could snatch it.

“I am Cortosi,” She said with a sigh, “Though with each passing day it is taxing to remember that part of me.”

She sat back against the bars, “Why do you ask, knight? Are you inspecting us pigs before we are sent to the slaughter?”

Ishak ibn al-Athir

 

[Hark]

"If that is Annuk's will," his voice was calm, measured, "Then it shall be so."

Ishak's expression remained serene. He did not seem to mind the slave's venomous words. Were their positions reversed he too might harbor some bitter resentment towards the hand of fate. He coaxed his horse along in a leisurely canter, careful not to overtax the beast of burden when there were so many miles yet to cover.

"I have fought Cortosi," ibn al-Athir mused, ignoring her goaded insults, "They are great warriors with unshakeable faith. You must look to your god now to raise you from this perdition."

It would have sounded like mockery if he didn't seem so earnest.

"It is the will of Annuk that the strongest shall rule. Who am I to question destiny? We are both prisoners, you and I. Make no mistake!"

He laughed.

"I would not gladly trade places with you. But we are both powerless against an Emperor, even one with delusions of godhood. Believe me, I have tried."

His expression darkened. Ibn al-Athir recalled the bloody banks of the Ninagal, and the great evils that had been done there by friend and foe alike.

Vica

 

[Vica]

When he mentioned fighting Cortosi, a smile graced her features for the first time in a long time. It looked almost out of place on her, and it certainly did not belong on anyone inside that cage.

“Then you must have battled an apprentice in training,” She had trained her entire life for combat, and it wasn’t by chance that she had gained a reputation as a gladiator. In fact, Narsis was disappointed in her for killing her enemies too quickly and not giving the audience a show. But what did any of it matter? She was behind bars just the same.

The man’s comments about the Emperor were striking once more. She looked around to ensure that Narsis hadn’t heard. Why was she so concerned about it anyway? Anyone that served the Emperor, even unwillingly, deserved the very worst to happen to them.

“If the Emperor continues to reign supreme and you are still alive, it means you have not tried hard enough,” She said firmly. It was her speaking aloud against the Emperor so boldly that landed her in this mess. She was ready to die for her principles. Was he?

The traveling party was slowly beginning to move out of the city and into barren land. There were canyons and wide stretches of arid lands as far as the eye could see. A few trees and boulders dotted the landscape here and there, but there was no relief from the brutal sun.

“If you wanna cozy up with the prisoners, perhaps I can put you in the cage with them,” Narsis called out to Ishak with a scoff, “Guard the back. There have been reports of mercenaries and bandits attacking slave cargo on this road,” He grimaced, “And bold vigilantes.”

Ishak ibn al-Athir

 

[Hark]

"Perhaps it is so," he nodded at Vica, lost in thought for a moment, "Perhaps it is also so that you remain a slave because you have not tried hard enough to earn your freedom."

Ishak flashed a rueful smile.

"Destiny can be cruel."

Before he could say anything else Narsis interjected. Not for the first time ibn al-Athir weighed the merits of cutting down these slavers and sacrificing his noble standing among the Empire. The cortosi had a point of course. Was it not cowardice to stand by and do nothing? Amol-Kalit was not completely under Gerra's control, the Scorpion King of Tel Madu and other smaller settlements still opposed Imperial rule.

It would mean abandoning Ragash. Abandoning his people. Perhaps one day even taking up arms against them. The desert offered him no good choices.

He tugged on his horse's reins, "It will be done."

For many miles their surroundings offered little in the way of physical obstacle. Yet in order to reach a new water source before sun stroke claimed them their route would dip into a narrow canyon pass. It was an ideal spot for an ambush Ishak realized.

The cavalier dismounted. emptying his canteen while the wagons rolled on ahead. He waited for the slavers to put some distance between them, and knelt down to plunge his palm into the sands until it reached dirt. His eyes widened. He could feel vibrations in the earth...many more than their small caravan could account for.

Sand elves.

Many of the Abtati were loyal to Emperor Gerra, but some nomadic tribes were little more than bandits. He could spy nothing on the horizon but they were masters of navigating the deep wastes unseen. Ibn al-Athir drew his falcata-edged blade and murmured a prayer to Annuk.