From the prompt: "Flames in the dark..."
Sold
Dael was awakened gently, golden light flowing softly across his eyelids. Then he opened his eyes, and saw silhouettes sitting around a small fire. He sat up, dusting the sand out of his tunic and hair.
"What's going on?" he asked, his Breton accent marring the Latin in his half-awake state. "Why are we not sleeping?"
"The Masters say that they have no need of gladiators. Some of us will be resold as slaves," Cottim, a Brittany Gaul, answered.
Dael stood up and moved to sit with them. Avery scooted back to make space in the circle. Dael, gazing into the flames, was suddenly reminded of his home, and the stubbled fields surrounding it, blazing in the night. His hands clenched into fists. Vengeance, he wanted it so badly.
"Do you want to be sold?" Avery whispered.
Dael nodded. "I'll live longer. I know how to fight, and I can get what I want." He sat, half-hypnotised, the flames dancing before him.
"Revenge isn't everything," Cottim pointed out.
Dael's brow furrowed. "For me it is." He pushed up away from the circle and retreated to his corner, curling up in the dirt.
The sunlight was harsh above him, forcing him to squint. Dael, Cottim and several others had been selected from the ranks of gladiators-to-be to be resold as slaves. The platform was about four feet off the ground, and for miles all around, Dael could only see people. People, too many to count,
filling the marketplace, milling around, waving, pointing, yelling.
Dael heard none of it, tuning out the sound. He was watching the prospective buyers, gauging their personalities and social ranks, wondering which one would buy him. He barely heard the crowd's gasp when his hood was pulled back to reveal his red-gold hair. That man there, with the limp, having a shouting match with another man twice his size - he was angered easily, his disability sparking defensiveness in him. That rather robust woman, finely dressed, rattling off instructions to an already overwhelmed servant - she was power hungry. Her carriage was proud, her movements full of predatory purposefulness.
"I have seventy, do I hear eighty?" the auctioneer was yelling.
Dael stared at the sea of waving hands, hearing prices called out, higher and higher.
"One hundred and fifty," a clear girl's voice called over the din.
Dael scanned the crowd, and then his gaze landed on a still figure shadowed in a cloak, the eye of the maelstrom. Disgruntled mutters ran through the crowd.
"That much for a slave?" "It's her." "You could buy a good horse with that money."
But then the gavel slammed down. Dael was cut loosed, and managed a hasty "farewell" to Cottim before the guards yanked him off the platform and dragged him over to his buyer. He held still while they fastened a leather collar around his neck, knotting a rope through the metal hoop and handing the end to the girl.
"Come along," she ordered shortly, and he began the humiliating walk through the city, led like a dog. He averted his gaze to the ground. Watching his owner's feet, she walked with a light step. Any ideas that she too was a slave vanished when the silk hem of her dress swirled beneath the edge of her cloak.
The house she led him to was...palatial. Tall columns and brightly-coloured gardens and flowing fountains...Maybe she was a princess.
"What's your name?" she asked quietly, leading him through the gardens to a small building behind the house.
"Dael," he answered.
"Hello, Dael, I'm Flavia." She led him up the steps into a lavishly furnished foyer. "These are my rooms."
He stopped short behind her, gazing around, unsure of what to do now. So far she'd been civil, but... He shook his head. He'd gotten past the fear long ago. He jumped when he felt fingers at his throat, and realized she was untying the rope on his collar.
"You'll be staying with me," she announced. She pulled back her hood, and he stared at her. She was dark-skinned, her skin a different hue from the olive-tan of these Romans. And her eyes were golden.
"So, I'll show you to your room." She turned to lead him down the hall, and as he started after her, he realized that she'd been speaking in Breton.
HOME
STORIES
NEXT
BACK
©2004 Agent Duo