Hero of Slaves (3 page)

By the gray light of dawn, Yenaz led Cassus to his seat. The slave sat next to him. Yenaz grabbed the handle of the thick oar in front of them with both hands. With a nod, he encouraged Cassus to do the same.

Cassus opened his mouth to ask a question, but a shake of the Byzernian’s head stopped him. Cassus took the oar, satisfying his benchmate.

A set of pipes began to play. Slowly, the oars around him started to move. After some trial and error, Cassus found his rhythm and no longer hindered Yenaz’s efforts.

Initially, the rowing helped relieve Cassus’ stiff muscles. He tried to lose himself in the monotonous work, but before long his thoughts drifted to Jonrell.

Time passed slowly as the bright sun climbed into the sky. It wasn’t long before his injuries and an overall lack of conditioning began to take its toll. The weight and heat of the sun’s punishing rays didn’t help matters, draining what little strength he had. He did his best to keep up with the pace set, but each row became a struggle. Lances of pain shot through his limbs, causing him to falter. Several times Yenaz grunted when trying to right Cassus’ poor timing.

“Take some of the rows off,” whispered Yenaz.

“What?”

“Just do it. Keep your hands on the oar, but don’t put forth any effort unless you’re able to.”

“That’s not fair—” started Cassus, but the Byzernian cut him off.

“Trust me. It will be easier for both of us.”

Cassus understood. He needed the rest and the Byzernian was exerting more effort than needed by trying to correct Cassus’ tired form.

The new strategy made things bearable. Cassus first participated every other stroke, then every third, and so on, until he worked every fifth stroke. Still, sweat glistened on his forehead and soaked his shirt. His breath grew ragged. His muscles screamed.

Maybe I should just let Melchizan kill me. At least Yenaz wouldn’t have to suffer on my account.

He was ready to let the oar go and give in when a high-pitched whistle came from the row master and the oarsmen slowed their pace. Finally, the Byzernians on his deck stopped altogether. He glanced to the side, through portholes, and gazed out over the water. Oars from the bottom two decks still dipped in and out of the sea at a slower pace.

A guard distributed buckets of water among the group. No one spoke while waiting their turn.

Cassus watched the buckets lustfully as each person drank two full ladles. Cassus licked his dry lips, the little spit he could generate drying as soon as his tongue left his skin.

Yenaz took his turn, and even though he could tell the man hurried, it couldn't be fast enough. When he finished, Cassus greedily snatched the bucket. Nothing had ever felt as good to him as the warm water rolling over his tongue and down his rough throat. He nearly coughed, but caught himself before he wasted a drop.

He started to take his second drink when a thick hand stopped him. Cassus looked at the hairy hand clenched around his wrist, and followed it up to the rowmaster’s scarred face. The man wore a sneer that peeked through a mess of beard.

“One’s all you get.” His eyes narrowed.

Cassus couldn’t stay quiet. “Everyone else had two.”

“Everyone else has been pulling their weight.” He eyed the Byzernian next to Cassus. “And he’s been picking up your slack.”

Cassus wanted to argue that Yenaz hadn’t been beaten the night before like he had. But then he remembered that as a slave, the man had probably experienced more than his fair share of abuse. “Then let him have my second ladle. It’s only fair.”

The rowmaster snatched the bucket from Cassus and handed it to the row behind them. “I ain’t interested in fair.”

Cassus sank lower in his seat as the rowmaster turned his back and walked off. He stared down at the thick chain binding his ankles.

A tap on his shoulder startled him. The slave behind him held a full ladle of water out. “Drink quickly,” urged the slave.

The rowmaster still had his back turned, and without thinking, Cassus eagerly took the drink. He enjoyed it even more than the first. Cassus hurriedly handed the ladle back, ready to mouth his thanks when he looked up in horror as an unseen guard materialized from the shadows. The guard grabbed the Byzernian by the neck, and flung him off the bench. The slave next to him caught the bucket before its contents spilled.

The guard called out to the rowmaster. “He gave Cassus more water.”

The rowmaster wheeled around. His eyes flicked to Cassus for a brief moment. “Bring the slave up front. Ten lashes. Let him be an example.”

“Wait!” Cassus cried out. “Take me instead.”

“Make it twenty,” said the rowmaster.

Cassus nearly called out again when Yenaz squeezed his leg.

“No,” the man whispered. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“But. . . .” Cassus started to say, and caught himself.

The rowmaster stripped the slave of his shirt before strapping him to a pole. The guard removed a large whip from a hook on the wall. He gave it a quick crack against the floor.

The whip snapped against the slave, leaving a red line across his back. Another followed. The Byzernian whimpered. With each strike, the slave’s voice grew in volume. The eventual screams assaulted Cassus’ ears so badly he thought he would vomit.

It’s my fault again.

Cassus looked at the other Byzernians who rather than watch the awful thing, kept their eyes cast down. Cassus’ guilt grew into anger.

They will take the abuse to help someone else, but they refuse to help themselves. One Above, how can a people sit by and watch this happen to one of their own?

Cassus muttered to his benchmate. “If your people had stood up for themselves long ago, none of this would be happening now.”

“I know,” whispered Yenaz, hanging his head lower.

The man’s cries had stopped—passed out from the pain—yet the guard lashed out three more times before they dragged his unconscious body away.

Without another word, the rowmaster started his pipes again.

Their rest was over.

* * *

The rings on Melchizan’s fingers sliced into Cassus’ cheek. He grunted in pain, head swimming.

Melchizan chuckled. “I never thought you’d be able to take so much abuse.”

Cassus didn’t say anything as his breath whistled in and out through his busted nose.

“You know, you can stop this whenever you want by just cooperating.”

Cassus blinked, swaying in the chair.

“Not yet? For the life of me I can’t figure out why you want to protect a people who won’t protect themselves.” Melchizan shrugged. “So be it. We’ve still got some time and honestly I’m enjoying myself. With each swing I imagine I’m pounding away at Jonrell. It’s quite liberating.”

“You would find it liberating,” he mumbled, fighting back tears at the mention of Jonrell. “Beating on the memory of a man better than you in every way.” Cassus tested his bonds to no avail, wanting more than anything for just one shot at Melchizan.

Melchizan chuckled. “He’s not better than me in
every
way. After all, he’s dead.” His face grew stern. “Just remember, the longer this goes on, the worse it’s going to get. And in the end, I’ll still get the information I need.”

Why
do
I care about protecting them? It would be so much easier just to give him what he wants. Easier to just die quickly.

He dropped his chin to his chest as exhaustion took him.

He heard Melchizan order his guards to take him below, and then he blacked out.

* * *

A warm and comforting sensation crawled across Cassus’ body. It felt like bathing in a hot spring. He began to smile until a small jolt of pain ran across his jaw. He startled awake and sat up.

A gentle hand pushed against his chest and, with little effort, eased him back down. Yenaz smiled at him. “Rest. I’m not quite done yet.”

“You’re healing me?”

“Yes.”

Cassus recalled how he had felt surprisingly better earlier that morning. “Did you heal me before?”

Yenaz nodded.

“Why not heal my face and the bruises on my body?”

The slave shook his head. “I try to ease the worst of the swelling or discomfort, but if I heal what they can see, the guards will know that we helped you.”

Cassus snorted. “No wonder I lasted so long tonight.”

“In the future, you may want to fake blacking out.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you need help.”

Cassus forced himself up and moved the slave’s hand away. “The man who was whipped for giving me water also needed help.”

“I know. But as I told you last night, I’m only one man. If I tried to act on my own it would have been pointless.”

“You want to do something. I can see it in your eyes. So do it. Convince the others to act.”

“I try every chance I get. These people are new slaves. They haven’t experienced the horrors I’ve been through. They don’t want to leave behind the ways of our people just because we’ve been
mistreated
.”

“What is it going to take for them to see that their ways mean nothing outside of your homeland?”

“I don’t know. But the beatings you’ve taken have helped. The others feel ashamed knowing that the Hero of Slaves is suffering rather than divulging our secrets.”

“After today, it makes me wonder if it’s worth it,” Cassus muttered.

A long silence passed. “Be patient. I will continue to talk with the elders among us.”

Yenaz shuffled away. Cassus knew he had been too harsh with the man.

A heavy sigh passed his lips.

Jonrell would have known what to say.
He snorted.
Jonrell wouldn’t be in this situation.

Chapter 4

Yanasi struck the bulls-eye with her fifth straight arrow. Cassus couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in the young girl. She had only been a member of the Hell Patrol for a few years. Though everyone looked out for her, he especially tried to see to her well-being.

Cassus had been the one to suggest she take up the bow over the sword due to her size. He taught her little more than the basics with the weapon. After that, natural talent and determination had taken over.

Yanasi fired her next shot. Afterward, she kicked the dirt at her feet in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” asked Cassus. “You hit the bulls-eye again.”

She hung her head and spoke in a soft voice. “I was shooting for a spot further to the left. I missed.”

Cassus chuckled and walked over to the girl. He pushed aside her fiery red ponytail while putting his arm around her. “Quit being so hard on yourself. I’ve never seen anyone do what you can do.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t do better. I don’t want anyone to die because I missed a shot. What would Jonrell say if that happened?”

Cassus bent down, and forced Yanasi to meet his eye. He knew the girl idolized Jonrell. He took her by the chin. “He would say that you did the best you could under the circumstances and that he was proud of you. Everyone makes mistakes. You have to learn from them, move on, and take advantage of the next opportunity. Alright?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He smiled. “I’ll race you to the target. Last one there has to clean the other’s boots.”

She flashed a grin, and they took off.

* * *

Cassus realized he had made a mistake by taking his anger out on Yenaz the night before. Without the Byzernian’s intervention there would have been no way he could have risen from the floor in the morning, let alone pull his weight at the oar as he had for the past several hours. He wasn’t sure what Yenaz had done differently last night than the day before, but Cassus’ muscles had more life in them. The rowmaster even allowed him his two full ladles of water at each break.

Congratulations for a job well done, Cassus.

Cassus turned toward Yenaz, ready to whisper his gratitude when frantic shouting came from the deck above.

A sailor came down to speak with the rowmaster. Cassus couldn’t make out what they said, but the rowmaster didn’t seem pleased.

“That’s going to put us behind schedule,” he growled.

“Take it up with Melchizan. His orders.”

The sailor ran back up to the main deck and the rowmaster swore, kicking an empty water pail. He gave a signal on the pipes that called for all three levels to cease, something usually done only at night. “Everyone on your feet!”

A column of slaves quickly formed and filed up a flight of stairs to the main deck.

White sails hung limp as the ship sat in the open water.

Cassus noticed women and children coming up from the hold as guards corralled the slaves into their designated area. He knew there had been others onboard, but seeing them for the first time tugged at his heart.

Cassus took a chance to talk to Yenaz. “What’s going on?” he whispered.

“It could be anything.”

“Anything bad?”

Yenaz nodded toward the bow of the ship. “Usually.”

Melchizan stood at the center of the bow. A small Byzernian boy, near the age of seven, stood next to him. The boy’s hands and feet were bound. A cut ran across his cheek. Cassus eyed the rings on Melchizan’s hand. His blood boiled.

Melchizan shouted. “I’ve been too easy on all of you. Some of you have decided that a place to sleep and food in your belly isn’t enough.” He glared at Cassus. “Yesterday, someone took more than his share of water.” He threw the boy to the decking. “And then today, I caught this runt in my personal quarters trying to steal food. A whip was used yesterday to punish, but apparently a stronger message needs to be sent today.”

Roshan, the mage, came forward, pushing his sleeves up. He opened his hands and held them out at his sides.

“No!” Cassus shouted. He pushed his way through the Byzernians.

A member of Melchizan’s crew ran over, punching him in the gut. Cassus dropped to his knees.

“Shut up and know your place,” said the man.

Cassus grit his teeth, biting back the pain, and lunged. The guard stepped aside, and Cassus fell again.