Engraved - The Hunted Warrior

Chapter 12.1 - The Price of Freedom

Liege Marext swallowed the last mouthful and rose from the table. He picked up a small bell and rang it. His most recent manslave entered. He was a clever man - he had served for two years and was still alive.

"My Liege?" he bowed.

"Have there been any reports this morning of Gretch the Hunter returning?"

"No, my Liege."

"Hmm. He is due to return within the next few days. I am to be informed when he arrives, even should it be in the middle of the night."

"Yes, my Liege."

"That is all," he waved the slave away.

"Forgive me sire, but your cousin Emerek has arrived. He asks to pay his respects to you."

"Has he?" Marext frowned. "What do you think he really wants?"

"I think he seeks to worm his way into your good graces and eventually succeed you as Lord of Morcham."

"That, my slave, is precisely the conclusion I have come to. What a pity he is so useful. Bring him in so we can see his simpering, lying smile."

***

Alam woke early. He was cold from having given Tajar his shirt in the night. The room was still dark with just a hint of dawn. His body was stiff from more than just being cold - his abdomen was covered with brown and purple bruises. It hurt with every breath and his wrists were raw from where the rope had bound him.

Tajar was right. We must prepare for our foes.

"Tajar," he whispered. "Wake up. It's time to train."

"You train. I'm sleeping."

"Get up," Alam hissed. "This was your idea in the first place."

"It was a stupid idea," Tajar said as he rolled away.

"Get up Tajar. I need your help."

His friend didn't move.

Alam went through the drills that Serik had taught them. It felt strange to do them without weapons in his hands. It was also strange to be doing them by himself. He hoped that by carrying on his friend would join in, but Tajar stayed rolled up on the pile of straw, sleeping.

Two cages away the woman with the white hair and foreign clothes had risen and was watching Alam dispassionately. It was like she was studying a worm. Something in what Alam was doing seemed to inspire her, for she started mirroring him. She had a fluidity and grace to her movements. It was like she was doing a dance.

"What are you doing?" Alam asked her after a couple of minutes.

"Learning." Although it was just one word Alam picked up a heavy accent - from where he did not know. He shrugged and continued. She picked up the movements quickly. Her arms and legs were quick and graceful.

She has done this before, or something like it.

Throughout the morning Alam became more and more worried about Tajar. He was refusing to do anything: to talk, to train, to eat - Alam did not blame him for that. Memory of the previous day's breakfast being punched out of him made him suspicious when the big nosed guard pushed a bowl through to him at noon. It was milk tea with cheese curds again. No beef this time. Alam ate only enough to take the edge off his hunger. Tajar simply pushed it away. Prall wolfed his down; no fear of poisoning today. The white-haired woman, that Alam had started thinking of as Frost, finished her bowl quickly as well. Danat was treated to finer fare. He was given a bowl of milk tea just as the others, but he was also given meat - strips of pork by the look of it - and a few apricots to put in his bowl.