Haddad sat morosely against the cavern wall, idly turning his mess kit in his hands as he dreamed of the next meal. The cave was shallow and dry, the wind blowing continuously into its mouth. One of many against a granite cliff-side, it was stuffed with League soldiers and civilians captured by raiders.
How long had he been in captivity, Haddad wondered. Like his distant slave ancestors, Haddad was cut off from time. Each day was the same. It started with sunrise and stopped with sunset. Haddad wondered how his forebears dealt with the total lack of control. He had no idea what would happen to him or when things might change.
Latulla's barges had stopped within hours of the parea feeding. Haddad had stepped into a desolate valley ringed by sloping cliffs. The area served as a central collection and training point for the Keldons. Each load of humanity was dumped into this sewer and into slavery. The task of the overseers was to instruct new servants in the Keldon language. The turnover among prisoners and their teachers was constant. Haddad was sure it was to prevent escapes. It was impossible to plan anything or trust anyone as people appeared and disappeared without apparent reason. There was only one constant-the distribution of the food. A slave might have many instructors and sleep in many caves, but only one person would issue a captive's rations. The chit that Haddad carried continually locked in his fist was the only source of food besides the weeds growing in the arid soil. Twice a day he reported for food and spoke a few words of Keldon. If he showed no improvement in speaking, he received nothing. Some slaves starved to death as the world looked on-either for failure to learn or because they irritated the distributor of the food. Haddad had tried sharing rations, but the desperate stole what they could, and soon everyone bolted their food as soon as possible to avoid theft.
Goblins, elves, and League soldiers were all thrown together, locked in a desperate struggle to learn their captors' language. Each day was the same as bewildered captives arrived and apathetic slaves left. Haddad wondered if all of Jamuraa would be swallowed by similar camps.
"Food call," came a voice from outside the cave.
The issue of rations motivated all the captives, and they rushed out of the caves where they talked with Keldon-speaking slaves. Piles of food were set up, and Haddad hurried to get into the nearest line.
"I am very hungry, and I need food so I might serve Keld," Haddad said as he reached the head of the line. The slave passing out the food nodded and handed him bread.
"You have learned very quickly," the man said, "but continue to concentrate on speaking clearly." Haddad thought the threat of starvation centered the mind more surely than the slave's compliment. He retreated higher up and squatted to eat his ration. Most of the camp was congregated around the food, and guards moved in to keep order. Haddad could see a clump of new prisoners nearing the head of the line. The last load of captives had come from the south and brought lizard men and goblins to the camp. They were not yet broken by the turnover inside the prison. They still had their identities.
The roar of the lizard men as they fell on the guards shocked the camp. Warriors began to retreat as more and more prisoners joined in the rush. Keldons rushed from throughout the camp as the captives turned on the captors. Spear tips tore into the prisoners, but like a stampede, the pressure of the ones behind pushed the dying forward, tangling weapons.
"Come on!" cried an elf, and he began running toward the camp corrals. "We'll steal mounts and be gone before the bastards can put down the riot."
Haddad followed. The corrals held a few mounts for scouts and were at the mouth of the valley. A slim chance is enough in this hell, he thought as he ran for the horses. A few other prisoners fell in behind him, but most of the population was converging on the clumps of embattled guards. The corrals grew closer and closer. Then the elf leading the run slowed, and Haddad crashed into him, both prisoners spilling to the ground. Haddad cursed his bleeding scrapes as he started to help his companion rise. The elf only shuddered, blood pouring from the arrow wound in his chest. Guards stood in front of the corrals, one with a bow in hand. The archer and his companions must have come from the feed sheds to the side of the corral. Haddad watched him pick off one of the prisoners who stumbled to a halt as the Keldon guards unsheathed their swords.
Haddad turned and slowly walked away. He headed up toward the caves. If the riot pulled more warriors away from their stations, a guard post might be abandoned at the top of the cliffs. But even as Haddad walked the back slope, he could see the attack dying down. The fighting retreat of the
Keldons stopped with the guards pinned back against the sheds. The buildings stored gear for the raiding parties. Suddenly new figures entered the fight. Axes and swords cut through walls to fall upon prisoners. The new defenders were red, and the riot began dying, literally. Swords sheared men into pieces, and instead of the new fighters being buried under bodies, they mounted piles of corpses. Crazed captives lost their footing on the bloodsoaked ground. Insane charges momentarily hid the scarlet fighters, but steel cleared away the curtain of flesh to reveal them anew. Now the prisoners broke and ran for the caves. The guards paused to bind up their wounds, and their allies all stopped.
Like machines, Haddad thought, and then the fleeing tide of captives was upon him. He ran toward the cliff side with the rest. The riot had failed, and who knew what the Keldons would do. Haddad moved into the cave and crawled onto a high ledge right by the entrance. More people poured in, and Haddad wondered if some might die of the crush in the back. Finally, the stream of people stopped. Haddad slowly got down and looked out the entrance. Keldon warriors were spreading out as land barges came from outside the camp. Guards began clearing out the caves and herding prisoners into the waiting transportation. The few supervising slaves that had been caught up in the riot called out.
"What's happening? We're innocent!" The language teachers were lost among the rioters. Haddad wondered if they would share the fate of their rebellious students.
"The camp is being cleared out to the main colony," a guard called back, blood clotting on his armor.
Everything was being loaded aboard the barges, Haddad realized. As if the bloody riot had been a graduation ceremony, the Keldons were shipping the prisoners onward.
Haddad stepped out of the cave, wondering if it was all a trap, if the guards were lulling them forward to take their vengeance. But their blows were no different from their usual brutality, and Haddad stumbled forward with a ringing head and the hope that he was headed somewhere better.
Chapter 3
Haddad slipped in and out of consciousness. The rocking movement of the land barge became hypnotic in its lulling power. The guards had distributed food and water only minutes after the prisoners boarded. Most were still in shock after the riot and had to be forced to eat and drink. Haddad tried to have as little as possible, not trusting such kindness after so many died. However, the barge slaves were old hands in a game Haddad was just learning, and they forced food down his throat. The provisions must have contained some sort of sedative, for
Haddad sat and dozed dumbly. By the time he was more aware, the main Keldon camp was appearing on the horizon. The convoy had traveled through the night and swung toward the coast. Haddad looked down to the sea and saw a large town, not a temporary camp. There were docks and piers stretching out into a bay. There were large ships waiting in the sheltered waters for a chance to unload. Small boats and rafts were also moored there, and sacks of cargo were being unloaded.
The heavy beat of a pile driver dragged his eyes to the construction of a new pier and warehouses. The Keldons were here to stay, the construction said. The town was much more incomplete. There were houses and what appeared to be workshops, but tents and small campsites spread in all directions. Systems of pens and feed yards put out an odor that fought with the smell of a working port. The convoy turned and headed into town. As they advanced, land barges peeled off to stop at campsites. Haddad could hear shouts from the front as a path was cleared. The slaves working outside spared only quick glances at the prisoners as they continued their tasks. Each slave slumped a little more as the convoy advanced at a walk.