Two Hundred Years in Slavery is all the people of Xathania have known. Toiling and dying for a kingdom that has only snarled at them. Not until hope surfaces as a story in the wind and the flames of a spirit long forgotten resurfaces to face the g...
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Freya had screamed like a hound when she was dragged out of bed that faithful morning. She struggled, kicked and fought. No one helped her. No one stopped the men that dragged her away. They had left Cora behind, a small mercy from the gods. Freya prayed to all the gods that she knew for Cora. For her to be safe and happy. As happy as a slave could be.
Freya was dragged into the castle and taken to the heir of Zolt. He had been a pervert around her in the days prior to that morning. Had not respected her space. She had tried her best to round up her duties in his absence before sprinting off before he could show up again.
Perhaps, he had noticed the pattern and asked her to be brought to him.
They were left alone and she prayed violently. This time for herself for her safety. For strength to withstand and survive what ever he was about to do.
He did nothing.
Instead, he informed her that she would be returning to Zolt with him, to be his mistress. She had not understood the gravity of his words until they were riding out of Goxa.
She had been wholly silent.
She didn't dare fight back. Not when she was as dispensable as a rag. The entourage camped at night fall. She had been tied to a tree like an animal while the man who guarded her had groped her. By some miracle, he fell asleep and the guards at the camp were too engrossed by their heir to notice her attempts to weaken her ropes.
She had not been successful the first night or the second. The climate changed to harsh icy winds and cold nights as they rode further.
She knew they drew close.
She knew about the winters of Zolt and the slaves that were forced to work in those conditions. That thought awoke something in her and the ropes snapped on the seventh night. She crawled away from the sleeping camp. Crawled until she could no longer see the camp fire. Or hear the murmurs of the guards on duty.
Freya ran.
She ran and ran through the trees. Ran all night and hid in a cave once the sun was up. She rested before running again. The beasts of the forests had stayed clear. She had functioned despite her lack of food and she was grateful to all the gods.
She came upon a ship that bore the banner of what she now knew to be the sigil of Xir.
A palm tree.
She got on that boat in the guise of a cook but soon slipped away from the kitchen to find a room to hide. She found one in a corner. Larger than the one she and Cora had shared for six years.
Her friend.
Her sister.
Her Cora.
She was all alone and it broke Freya that she did not know the way back to Goxa. To steal her friend away so they may sail away together and start their lives in a better place.
