Book 3: Dragonfire

Chapter 4 - Slaver's Bay

Lyon woke slowly, lapsing in and out of consciousness until her eyelids finally fluttered open. Immediately she grimaced at the harsh light beaming through her from a slit in the wall.

Sluggishly, she lifted a hand to cover her eyes. It took her eyes a few minutes to adjust and survey her surroundings. She was stowed away in some confined locale, barely enough room for her to stretch out her legs. The chains still bound her around both her wrists and ankles, and the slave collar weighing heavily on her sore neck.

Lyon shifted, the movement rattling the chains noisily. Groaning at the harsh sound, she followed her chains to two divots in the ground. She was anchored in this dark room, no escape in sight.

Footsteps sounded above, probably alerted by the sound of her rustling. Lyon heard an eery screech, that of a hinge in deep need of a coat of oil. More light splinter above her as a hatch opened. Lyon covered her eyes from the harshness of the sun's rays, obscuring her view of her captor.

Rough hands seized Lyon by her arms and hauled her to weary feet. A key unlocked the cuffs on her hands, then her captor, still obscured, climbed down and unlocked the ankle chains.

"Up." A rough voice demanded. When she didn't comply the man barked it again, then finally grabbed her by the arms and pulled her out of the hole. She stumbled, her legs sapped of their strength, but she found her footing. How long had it been since she last stood on her own two feet? Once they had been strong, but now they were jelly beneath her. How long was she locked away in the tiny cell?

A voice tsked from several feet away. "You've lost weight during the journey, but we'll fatten you up again. Don't you worry, Rauros."

Lyon squinted against the light at the man that sat across from her. She would remember that wrinkled face for as long as she lived. Every day he made her strut across the sand as a slave was another day she planned his death.

"You... cunt." It barely came out, her throat was so dry.

"Yes, life isn't fair, is it? But you have a talent, nay- a skill, my dear girl. You killed one of my personal guard. That is no simple feat."

Lyon snorted. "Months ago."

The man only grinned. "Yes, but you are a brute, my dear. That will suit my purposes wonderfully."

"Fuck your purposes." She mustered what saliva she could and spat on the floor. It dribbled down her lip and stuck to her chin.

"I will not have any slave of mine talk back to me." He rose from his chair, basked in evening light. Lyon now saw the room, a vast and beautiful open chamber. Outside, bathed in twilight, was Slaver's Bay.

The Slaver stepped before her and stopped. With a swift kick she was on her knees before him, hands flying out to catch her fall. He kicked her again until she was laying on the floor, curled around her bruised abdomen.

"You have but one choice. Fight for me in the Fighting Pits, earn your freedom back. I am not a cruel man, but I also do not offer this lightly. Fight for me, or I kill you and find another to fight in your stead. You must choose."

Just to spite him, Lyon pretended she hadn't heard him. That alone had the Slaver simmering with range. How dare she ignore him?

"Fine then, you leave me no choice. Whip her until she makes up her mind." He ordered it as though requesting wine.

Hands seized Lyon again and hauled her to her knees. The fabric of her shirt, only rags in place of her green suit, was ripped to expose her back.

"No.." she whispered, beginning to struggle against the Slaver's guard. "No, don't!"