Avarice Blacksteel Book 2

Passage of Misery

She let the canvas fall and sat on the carpet on the floor cross legged. If it was not for the length of chain that was attached to her ankle she could have felt she was a free woman. Jhary's advice had so far been constructive, treat them well and you will be allowed liberties.

The diminutive, smiling man had been right, she could hear him now plucking at his guitar entertaining the men about the fire. Aurianne was fine with this as long as no man tried to molest her, and so far they had not. She would bide her time and seek escape when the chance presented itself. The young woman had eaten well, and was unusually tired. She lay on the mat and put the pillows beneath her head listening to the man of song as she drifted off to sleep.

While most in the camp slept well Aran stood shivering in his chains. His eyes closed but he jerked them open, if he slept he would fall, and if he fell he would choke. He spent the entire night thus and was by far most malleable the following morning. His good behavior was not rewarded. He was provided with his usual ration of good meat and clean water, but no release from his bonds.

He looked out mutely across the encampment. Its faceless occupants were stirring for the day's march ahead. He sighted her as they led her to the cart, she was still as beautiful and alluring to him even in his pain filled, sleepless daze.

Aurianne looked across at him, he focused on her face, the high cheek boned beauty and the ageless blue gray eyes framed in her luxuriant red hair. He drew himself straight in spite of his aching unresponsive body and screaming muscles, he was aware she saw his pride, and recognized his courage.

Aran held that vision this frozen day clutched to his heart. It drove him on, gave him the will to continue. However as strong as he was, mid afternoon his body foundered and betrayed him. He fell and found he could no longer rise, the heaviness bound to his body too much for him to lift one more time.

The cart was halted swiftly, one of his guards had seen him fall, he was valuable property after all. He was to be disciplined not destroyed. Aran was still trying to rise on legs that would no longer obey him as the men unchained him from the wagon. He realized he was free but was too exhausted to take any advantage of it.

He felt great relief and lightness as the weighty yoke was at last removed from his shoulders, he cried out as his arms dropped to his sides. They were alarmingly lifeless and numb before the circulation could return to them. The hands of many men hoisted him from the sand and loaded him into the cart he had so achingly followed.

I will remain free Aran thought with a great sense of delight, this hope was crushed almost immediately as he was again shackled to the uprights on the cart. They were made of stout wood, he stood no chance of moving them, at least not in his present weakened state. He did not recall much more, sleep was more important.

*****

The cessation of movement was what woke him, the camp was being set. Aran had been dreaming he was looking up at a full moon, a bright and beautiful silver disk that hung suspended in an indigo sky. For one moment Aran thought he was really doing so, he blinked away the remnants of sleep and the magical dream was gone. The sky ominous and dark as it had always been, with not a solitary star in sight. His situation was none too cheerful, he was cold, stiff and sore. His movement still most limited.

This was how Aran would now spend his days, the majority of the long hours chained down in the cart. Sometimes he was allowed out to walk, shackled behind the slow procession of human misery to maintain his fitness and worth. His fur cape had been returned to him, he was glad of it nights and used it as a blanket to stave off the bitter cold that invaded the world even more severely after darkness fell.