Property of Kimra Lelanst, do not duplicate without consent.
Mezakal returned for her after many hours. The other slave, she couldn’t even remember what the girl had been called had been taken away shortly after their conversation had ended. The silence had not been good to her, she had attempted to meditate, to remember things that where beyond her grasp and had been unsuccessful. It had left her irate, and with a sense of weakness she knew she disliked.
His return had almost been greeted with enthusiasm. He was something solid that she could understand and although from the chains holding her in place she knew he was not her friend, she could not help feeling connected to him.
He pulled her to her feet, where she had slumped after the first hour in the sun. The other slave had said it was a cool day, but nothing about it had felt cool. Beads of sweat trickled from the base of her hairline down her back, sliding along her spine and tingling with a sticky sensation she was not appreciating.
So she stumbled behind him again, his pace a little to fast, leaving her at difficult pace that was half run, half walk. He didn’t notice, didn’t care, but she was glad for the shade of the buildings alcoves as they pushed back through the crowd. She had to guess they where returning to his abode, because he was no more talkative after leaving the slave yards then he had been before walking into them. His silence loomed over her, repressing the need she felt to question what was happening around and to her.
* * * * *
It was somewhere in the depths of the thick crowd that something altered. She wasn’t sure at first what it was, her eyes fixed on a cart with intricately carved shards of glass that reflected the sun rays with such intensity that she could not help but stare at them. She was in awe, enraptured by the dazzling display of light, but still vaguely aware of a change.
Then someone ran into her, pushing her to the ground with a force that surprised her. Her back slammed against stone and before she could recover another body slammed into her. They where no one of consequence, though she noticed their faded green shirt and the scent of mead that clung to their presence as they feel onto her. She pushed him off and he stumbled away, muttering incoherent obscenities to the world.
She expected the pull, her back sore against the sandstone pavement, but it didn’t come. Several people disregarded her prone form and stepped over her, using the gap her fall had made in the crowd.
A little befuddled Rieishel looked to her right palm to find the chain had slithered out of it’s loop. Instinctively she reached for where the chain began at her neck and she felt the thin metal cord still dangling there. Almost uncertainly she followed the cold thread with her eye’s to find the end of it in a neat pile not far from her. Then panic set in. She pushed her grazed hands against the pavement and hoisted herself to her feet, frantically searching the crowd for the only face she knew. Instead her eyes came in contact with an amazing set of dark purple eyes.
Her mind blanked, allowing no big, but hundreds of small, thoughts to flood through. The strange blue flicker in the purple orbs, the almond shape of the eyes, long lash’s though not feminie. Her eyes travelled to other features. A strong nose studded with a ruby, a smirking mouth, a silver loop through the left ear, the right ear free of decoration. A leather thong around tight neck muscles with a small amethyst drop knotted to the end. A blue tunic tied down with a black belt, beneath it a clean white shirt and finished off with a pair of dark brown pants and black boots.
“Have we met?” She asked vaguely aware of the sense of having seen him somewhere before.
“Nah.” He gave a chuckle, then the purple eyes skipped about the street. “But you where staring at me with the same intensity up at the salve yards.”
Her eye’s widened in recognition and he quirked a mocking grin at her.
“Oh.” Her eyes moved down the street, searching for Mezakal now she was done puzzling over the stranger.
“Busy?” His smooth baritone voice asked innocently, not having moved from before her. She glanced over at him for a second, the purple in his eyes made them hard to read but there was an obvious amusement in them.
“Yes.” She replied calmly her eyes flicking from one head of hair to the other still in search. It did not help that she was shorter then almost everyone there.
“I could buy you a drink.” He persisted, still sounding amused.
“I’m sure.” She wasn’t paying attention to him, until she felt a little tug at her throat. On reflex she stepped towards where the pressure came from and found herself much closer to the man. Scowling she went to step away and found herself trapped beneath a renegade arm that had slid about her waist.
“I’m going to buy you a drink slave.” Amusement was still there, but there was a stern iron to his voice that made her rethink his potential to do her harm.
“My master, his…” Her eyes scanned faster through the crowd, hoping for a strike of luck, she was sure she hadn’t been very lucky so far, considering she had no memories before the previous day.
“Busy. Yes I know what he is.” His mocking smirk reappeared and the grip on her tightened faster. “You, however, seem quite free-“ his eyes flicked to the chain twisted around his hand “-to come have a drink with me.”
Her eyes moved to the chain too, both her hands where free of it’s confines something that gave her the ability to balance against his chest as he continued to grip her close. She wet her lips staring at the man, then glanced over her shoulder at the empty crowd.
This wasn’t good, she could tell that much, but she didn’t have the energy to fight the man before her. No more then she had, had the energy to fight Mezakal when he had first chained her. And she had no more knowledge of this man then she did Mezakal. She sighed her surrender and she saw his grin break.
“Why are you asking? You know I have no choice.” She admitted, staring down at the chain which her weak limbs could not tare from him if she tried. She knew, without a doubt that he was stronger then her, his muscles where obvious under the white shirt, and bunched around her waist, holding her off the ground.
“Good question.” He replied and swiftly yanked her out of the main stream of the crowd under one of the near building alcoves. She cast a fleeting look to the busy street still hoping for Mezakal’s reappearance before she was quickly pulled in through a door she hadn’t noticed.
* * * * *
“Foreitiket.” His smooth voice spoke. Her eyes jumped to the face that had turned to her. She noticed his eyes where much lighter now.
“Huh?” She managed to grumble trying to understand the spontaneous word. He had been leading her through dark passage’s in silence for an undistinguishable amount of time. Her fingers where cold where they pressed against the stone walls, guiding her through the near darkness.
“My name, it’s Foreitiket.” He continued, the tint of amusement in his voice once more. He turned away from her and continued walking, seemingly untroubled by the darkness.
“That’s nice.” She replied with calm sarcasm, her eyes flicking from one side of the passage to the other. She could make out the vague shapes of the stone walls and little else. She replied on her other sense to guide her, the damp air and slight decline of the long passage suggested they where below the city.
“Your meant to tell me your name now.” His calm voice instructed with ease. She stared at the dull shadow of his form two steps before her. His form wasn’t as strong as Mezakal’s, his shoulders more lean and his body seemingly more graceful.
“That’s nice.” She repeated, her eyes moving to the roof only to find darkness.
“What’s your name?” He demanded with a tint of harshness he had not used before.
“He called me Rieishel.” She responded quickly, trying to keep anger from her voice and at the same time fighting fear away as well. Every step they took down the dingy passage was a step further away from what was possibly the only key to her memories that existed.
“Is that your name?” He prodded carefully his tone once more humoured.
“I don’t know.” She replied in a monotone. She walked into something solid, and jumped back a step squinting her eyes up at his. In the darkness she hadn’t seen him stop.
“Where you his mistress?” He seemed to be staring at her intently, but she couldn’t be certain.
“I don’t know.” She maintained her monotone, not flinching under his gaze.
“Do you know anything?” He teased his voice lighter then before, still humoured.
She paused and stared at him in the darkness, drinking in his curious expression but not acknowledging it. “Your questions are annoying?” She dared refusing to be meek.
“Looks like she knows something after all.” A voice interrupted them and Rieishel jumped back further into the shadows as a an unseen doorway swung open. What surprised her most as light flooded through the passageway was that the man who had spoken was standing in the passage with them, two steps behind Foreitiket. She glanced and saw that Foreitiket showed no signs of surprise and she had to assume he had known the other man was there.
“Yariken guards the door.” Foreitiket muttered, and abruptly caught her elbow and pushed her through into the well lit chamber. He was a step behind her, his hand still tight on her elbow, and the door closed behind them.
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Property of Kimra Lelanst, do not duplicate without consent. |
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