Bare feet stepped on soft dirt and sharp grass. One pair in a small army of misery, unity and anger. The simple clothes they wore a symbol of their break from the material world. As former slaves nothing was theirs. Not any personal possessions, zero freedom, not even their own bodies. Everything belonged to the master and the ruler of the kingdom to which they lived out a life of servitude. When they were no longer of use they were gotten rid of. Like a broken toy or a rabid dog. Most came from the war loving Quatz Kingdom. But a few escaped more surprising places.

The realm of Alara had four main kingdoms with scatterings of outside villages and communities. The latter was getting fewer as the kingdoms expanded and as more attacks forced them to choose a stronghold. Quatz Kingdom was known as the most flourishing and maintained their lavish lifestyle by plundering the resources of others and demanding resources in exchange for protection. Their favorite target was the Sluvic Kingdom which fell out of favor with Firara Kingdom because of greedy practices. The Evinara Kingdom never offered any aid and few knew of what happened within those walls. Each kingdom had their traditions and practices. Laws existed both inside the kingdoms and throughout the realm. Some were steadfast and a blasphemy to be broken. Others were only kept when it came to the convenience it served the individual kingdom at that appointed time.

No one was quicker to break rules and assert dominance than the Quatz Kingdom. There were no poor there because they plundered enough to keep all citizens happy with a rich lifestyle. In exchange they gave their strongest children over to the military. To keep all out of servitude slaves were gathered from places their conquered. The Sluvic Kingdom gave them a steady supply in exchange for protection. Ironically that protection was actually just a bribe to keep the Quatz Kingdom from crushing them. Slaves there were worked to death and severe punishments were metered for the smallest mistakes. Upon death they were thrown into a massive pit which had quicksand that sucked the bodies into its depths. Repeated attempts to escape also had some slaves bound and flung in alive.

The other two kingdoms mostly turned a blind eye to this depravity. Evinara was extremely private and often fought back the bullying kingdom. But every three years Evinara sent a steady supply of fine cloths and pottery. During that time they were left alone and no one questioned the motives for this temporary truce. Firara had magicans to shield and protect them. They were mainly a peaceful people but very tricky and saw no problem deceiving others for the greater good. Their main resource was agriculture and those who traded with them paid handsomely for the best crop in Alara.

However at this moment there was a group of former slaves walking through the forest. They were a nomadic community calling themselves Blood Knot. Yet many in the outlying villages whispered the less likeable nickname Cult of the Damned. This had nothing to do with them being former slaves. Many a community had their people taken and sympathized for those who escaped. Aid was offered in shelter and kind until the escapee moved on to prevent recapture. But the power of Blood Knot’s leader tore all goodwill from their breast and struck terror into their hearts. When someone could kill you with a single touch it was hard for others to consider socializing a good idea or that a great evil was not at work.

Tarr was a former slave of the Quatz Kingdom. She was handed over from the Sluvic Kingdom at the age of three. With straw blonde hair, bright blue eyes and soft skin she could have been raised to be a concubine or to work within the walls of a well off family if she had stayed. But she was instead taken and all slaves in Quatz had to do hard labor whether in the almost barren fields or wherever their service was most needed and the best use. Tarr started as a chimney sweep and the soot soiled her skin as her hair took on a dirty knotted appearance. At age six, among the few who survived with their lungs in tact she was sent to work the fields. The few areas that weren’t practically barren were mainly farmed by indentured laborers from outside villages who worked in exchange for not being enslaved. Slaves were forced to bring crops from the other lands and punished severely for failure. Tarr was among the few who succeeded. She was rumored to have a special farmer’s touch and this favor got her nothing but more grief. Rumors started that she must be part magic and that was banned in Quatz who resented anything not of physical might. They tolerated mental prowess for strategy but magic was outlawed in the kingdom. Tarr was forced to grow crops but punished daily for wielding magic she didn’t understand. What she did didn’t seem magical to her yet she was punished regularly through flogging, beatings and starvation. One day she was beaten so severely that she just fell down in the fields. Left until nightfall she broiled in the sun. When taken to the medic it was decided she was at death’s door and of no further use.

She was thrown in a cart with the other bodies and taken to The Death Pit. Slaves were not considered worthy of burial. So they were often disposed of in alternate ways including bonfires. Tarr was dumped in along with the others and landed on the already sinking pile of sinking bodies. Warm grease was also poured down the sides to prevent any surviving slaves from climbing out. In the past a few slaves faked being dead with hopes of escaping after being flung in.

Tarr could smell the stink of death but was immobile. She could feel herself slipping away then felt nothing. Suddenly she woke up feeling restored but different. The pile had sunk greatly and in a matter of hours she would be pulled under the depths of the sands. Climbing over the rotting bodies and fighting the stench was almost too much to bear. But she was determined to take full advantage of this second chance. The grease was even more difficult to face. Thankfully there were branches and brambles she could hold unto. By the time she climbed out the skin on her hands was flayed and most of her fingers cut and broken. She had lost her left pinky to the brambles but was very much alive.

Running through the empty lands she didn’t stop until she hit a village. But the people there weren’t welcoming and threw stones when she tried to beg for help. Fleeing into the trees she lived off weeds and berries and drank from a nearby stream. When men from the village saw her, they came with bad intentions. At nightfall she was attacked but when she hit one of them he fell down dead. The others stepped back and Tarr could only look down in alarm. Nothing happened when they grabbed her yet a single touch from her brought on instant death. In anger the men brought out weapons and she barely escaped with her life hearing words like ‘demon’ ‘evil’ ‘whore’ and many others she didn’t want to commit to memory. But there was one she agreed with. That was monster.

Yet there was a silver lining. That one touch healed her of all her ailments and even brought back some of her beauty. She soon met other slaves in the woods who saw her ability as a blessing from the gods. One, a redheaded Firarian, was able to explain to her how magic worked. All use had a price and while Tarr was dying her power to grow things turned into one of devouring to keep her alive. Now it hungered for the life of living things except for the vegetation she had so lovingly grown during her time of slavery. Sadly there was no way to stop it but Tarr could use it. The woman’s name was Sahar and she had magical blood that allowed her to create shields and had defensive abilities. Sahar taught Tarr to use her power to only defend others and how to live a life without the gift of being able to touch another living soul. Sahar was looked upon as a leader and never called their group by a name. They were together and that was all that mattered. But bonds were made to be broken and after a particularly brutal attack by Quatz soldiers hunting for escapees only half the group survived.

Most cried for revenge but Sahar refused. She had been raised by a peaceful people and despite their deceit which led to her fleeing, she truly believed in peace. As leader she threatened to leave them unprotected and the members fell back in line. All except Tarr who secretly led a small group after the soldiers and killed them all. She returned and told Sahar of her actions expecting congratulations. Horrified their leader sent her away. A tearful Tarr fled but was followed by the majority of the former slaves who encouraged her to become their leader. Hardened by Sahar’s rejection and years of slavery she decided it was time to take their freedom back and punish all those who harmed them along with those who stood by and did nothing. She declared that were not just wanderers but a community which she named Blood Knot because they were united by the blood of slavery, pain and unity. Since then they journeyed from place to place exacting vengeance on anyone who they felt wished or caused them harm. Villages grew to fear them and most never questioned their presence. Those who did ended up paying a steep price. With their growing numbers Tarr had to use her ability less and less. But the threat of Tarr’s touch was usually enough.

Right now Tarr and her community were headed for Sluvic. It would be a long journey but since most were born there it was agreed of the four kingdoms Sluvic should be punished first. The people were willing to hand over their children in exchange for not being punished severely by King Dakk who only cared about his legacy and kingship. Some would pity these people but Tarr didn’t. She remembered how willingly her family handed her over. Yet her neighbor, a heavy set woman fought for her young sons and was beaten unconscious for her efforts. If more people rose up maybe the king would have reconsidered his actions and tried a new negotiating tactic with the Quatz Kingdom. But they didn’t and Tarr was going to see to it that they paid dearly for their cowardice.

“Mistress Tarr,” a male spoke, “we are ready to assist you in anyway necessary to reap revenge against those who wronged us. Thank you for your guidance and leadership. We are all forever grateful to you. Our former masters will perish a thousand fold and the cowards ten thousand fold,” he at last recited the oath Tarr had given them to say every morning and night.

“They will and thank you dear follower for your allegiance. We are only as united as the strength of our blood and the unity of the community. Any stragglers will be removed and all doubt will be punished. Leave now if you still feel fear and no harm will come to you,” Tarr declared.

No one stepped out of all. All were united and ready to reap their vengeance. Even those not from Sluvic were ready to bring down the kingdom that sought protection on the backs of their own children.

“Then we march on. Once we reach the rocky lands you will be allowed to put on your shoes. Remember that pain is our friend and luxury is the enemy. Sahar believed in the luxury peace gave her former kingdom and betrayed our safety for her own ideals. The Sluvic Kingdom wanted an easy life and sold many of you in exchange. Quatz Kingdom almost destroyed us to be lazy warring vagabonds while labored in the jobs no one else wanted. The other two kingdoms focused on themselves which afforded the luxury of not having their own sent to slavery while we suffered without aid. Every last one of those cowards will suffer terribly.” Tarr said and all her followers cheered and chanted ‘Our former masters will perish a thousand fold and the cowards ten thousand fold.’

Traditions

King Dakk finished with his concubine. Sluvic royalty tradition was known to have several and he had no wife to feed such needs. His grandmother had been hesitant to agree to sending child slaves in exchange for the kingdom’s safety. The lesson learned by the sons and his father after them was that women were weak and not ready for leadership. After winning the tournament of leadership Dakk outlawed the requirement of a queen and took on twenty concubines which he changed regularly. No king could have more than that under penalty of losing his crown. Once he finished with one he always found an excuse to have her executed. Women were weak but devious creatures. None should be allowed to leave with secrets, not even from the bedroom. Being a concubine wasn’t a choice. Once he picked one his guards fetched her from her home and took her to his castle. Before he used to make proclamations but some of them either tried to run or committed suicide. The ungrateful wretches were getting to live a life of luxury and instead of being grateful just proved women were always what he thought them as. Stupid weak creatures in need of a man’s firm hand and guidance.

He walked out into the hallway with his robe. This one was getting fat. He couldn’t see it with his own eyes but anytime he lay with her he felt like he was lying with a blob of skin with saggy tits. She would be executed early tomorrow. The concubines were warned to keep up their physical appearance and focus only on his needs. This one liked to read in the afternoons. He rarely took on the literate ones and would never do so again. Anytime he saw her hiding a book behind her back he wanted to slap her. Worst of all it was the same book over three months. What kind of idiot couldn’t finish a small book in that amount of time? Maybe it was rereading but that would be even worse. A palace wasn’t good enough for her to put down a ratty book and focus solely on him? Her death would mean a new concubine and he had his eyes on a deaf girl who tended the corn on her father’s field. She was way too slender and beautiful for that kind of work. She had to be legally grown to become a concubine and last year she was fifteen. But now a year later she was old enough to be chosen. The soon to be dead bookworm was twenty-one. More than old enough to meet the executioner’s blade and lived a full life. She was lucky to live in the lap of luxury for as long as she did.

“King Dakk, there is an urgent matter that needs your attention,” a guard ran forward and the king closed his robes, “pardon but this is urgent news of a threat approaching the kingdom.”

“Has Lord Remus not received his monthly quota?” King Dakk questioned, “has it fallen short?”

“No my king,” the guard reassured him, “it is not from the Quatz Kingdom, a foreigner has brought news and she awaits you in the throne room.”

“I will be there after my bath,” King Dakk said, “see that she is fed, bathed and dressed appropriately for my presence.”

“I will King Dakk,” the guard bowed and left.

King Dakk sighed. Sometimes he just wanted to turn tail and run from his responsibilities. It was so stressful having a whole kingdom on his shoulders. Worse some of his subjects were so ungrateful. With the rampant poverty they had the nerve to complain about life in the palace. Those who were too poor to pay were put to work to better the kingdom. The majority of money brought in was from mining and they had to outsource for the equipment needed. Plus there were a lot less miners than he would like because it was against the law to force anyone underground and he couldn’t change it. Farming was the most popular work and it brought in the least profits. Most farmed for themselves and friends. This the king found to be greedy on their part not doing the best to benefit the kingdom. But the subjects countered that there were so few children because of the trading they needed something to do. Personally he felt they did it for spite. The child slave trade was becoming less popular and worse Quatz didn’t pay for the slaves they received. The few Evinara bought every two years was a blessing since they paid double price for swift purchase and transported the slaves themselves. The financial vulnerability of Sluvic was almost half as bad as their military defense. With so many young children sold a lot of young people left over were drafted into the army. Gender was not considered. Their army was more than enough to defeat an attack from a garrison of villagers. But compared to Quatz it was a bad joke. However he was determined to do whatever it took to keep the kingdom going. Even if he had to work his subjects to the bone to ensure his reign could go on.

After he was bathed and dressed he went to the dining hall. There he saw a beautiful redhead dressed in traditional garb of sunshine yellow. She was smiling and watching a jester entertain on a small stage. Upon seeing the king everyone stopped then rose and bowed. “Hail King Dakk.”

“Thank you, you may be seated,” King Dakk told them, “beautiful traveler, from which kingdom or village do you come from?”

“Firara but I have long left my home kingdom. My name is Sahar and I bring urgent news my King.”

His heart almost skipped a beat. Firara was known to birth almost all the magic users in existence and even then magic was rare in their realm. “Are you able to perform any magical feats?”

“Pardon my king but I have more urgent news,” Sahar said leaning away.

“I asked you a question,” his voice took on a sharp edge.

“Then my answer is no,” Sahar said, “and if I have come at a bad time I apologize and will make my leave.”

“Will you? Subjects wait to be dismissed from the table.”

“I am not a subject, this is not where I intend to reside,” Sahar countered, “I only came to deliver news of a danger heading towards a kingdom. A former slave child bent on revenge with terrible power.”

King Dakk sat up straight. His concubines scattered around the table looked worried. He did not appreciate a female talking back to him. This woman needed to learn her place. “You enter my kingdom but refuse to submit to our customs. Listen harlot, you are in my presence and you will respect your betters or face the dire consequences dissenters receive in Sluvic.”

Sahar’s jaw clenched. “I apologize, King Dakk.”

“My king.”

“My king,” Sahar’s voice barely hid a hiss.

“Better, now tell me of this threat coming to my kingdom.”

“The Blood Knot is heading towards Sluvic and their leader has the death touch,” Sahar said.

The room fell into silence.

“Do you mean The Cult of the Damned?” one of the concubines asked, “my family talked of them during their last visit.”

King Dakk looked over at the book worm. She might be of some use yet. “Is it true that the demon that drives them is of female origin Ceya?”

Ceya blushed heavily. “Yes my king, it is said she has eyes that shine red with evil intent and…”

“I am sorry to interrupt,” Sahar said, “but the leader is a woman and as she kills her beauty grows. These rumors of a demon are no more than silly superstition.”

“Really?” King Dakk purred, “are you suggesting that my concubine’s family are stupid?”

“Of course not, no,” Sahar said with widened eyes, “I am sorry if my words offended anyone. It was not my intent to cause hurt or ill feelings. Maybe it is time that I rise and bid you all farewell.”

“You have to be dismissed by the king,” one of the youngest concubines chimed in.

“Right,” Sahar sighed, “of course.”

King Dakk could feel fury boiling up inside him. This noisy bitch clearly had no proper upbringing. Clearly no male taught her how to behave around anyone, especially royalty. “Concubines, your presence is no longer needed. Go straight to bed; do not dally in the hallways.”

“Of course King Dakk,” they said and rose in unison, “goodnight our king, guards, servants and special guest from a far.” The women left in single file.

Sahar who was playing with what was left on her plate put down her fork. She now stared straight at the king. Watching him very closely.

“Women don’t stare directly into my eyes like that,” King Dakk growled.

Sahar turned her attention to the jester who seemed used to this display and just kept entertaining. “Is there a reason why I am still here my king? You don’t seem to like me very much.”

“Like is irrelevant,” King Dakk blasted, “you need to learn your place while within my walls.”

“I apologize, again King Dakk.”

“False words hold no meaning har…”

“Enough, I have a name and it is not harlot,” Sahar cut him off, “you have been a horrendous host and I hope that we never cross paths ever again. You are clearly uninterested in a female passing on news of an upcoming threat. So let me leave and send your scouts out to find out.”

King Dakk lounged out his chair and grabbed her by the hair. “You dare instruct me you red haired witch!” he tugged and she winced, “someone should have taught you how to behave a long time ago. But since it’s just us, I will take on your tutelage. Let’s see who isn’t a harlot.”

A surge of power sent him flying. Guards ran to his aid and even more poured in. Sahar had formed a shield around herself and it knocked back anyone who tried to get close to it. Weapons thrown just bounced back at their owners.

“She has magic,” King Dakk awed, “a shield to repel any kind of attack. Oh Sahar…”

“I just want to leave,” Sahar snapped, “I don’t need your false platitudes.”

King Dakk could barely hold his temper. He was five seconds away from killing this redhead himself. She pranced around like she was royalty and dealt out orders as if she were in charge. “Why not stay the night? It’s late and no matter our differences I would rather not have you on the roads alone.”

“I have people waiting for me in a nearby village,” Sahar said, “they would be concerned if their leader didn’t return when she said she would.”

King Dakk sat up straight. “A leader, are you? Might I ask of what?”

“A group of peaceful travelers,” Sahar told him, “sadly not everyone accepts us and a serious attack harmed many of us…” she looked away.

King Dakk looked at her more closely. When she wasn’t running her mouth she was almost pleasing. “I am sorry for your loss. Was this attack perpetrated by the demon woman.”

“No,” Sahar said, “but…she used to travel with us and after the attack defied my order and sought revenge. When I found out about the horror she had done, I sent her away. She took most of my remaining followers who felt her way was better.”

“So she was with you?” King Dakk noted.

“Until she decided to seek rampant vengeance,” Sahar said, “I would never condone such a thing.”

“So you know her?” King Dakk asked and Sahar nodded, “then I need you to stay here then.”

“Excuse me?” Sahar said, “what about my people? They need me.”

King Dakk rose to his feet. “You tell me that you traveled with the same band of people coming to kill us. You are lucky to not be imprisoned. Now you will behave and heel!”

Sahar tried to rise but a guard stopped her. “You cannot keep me here.”

“Wait,” the jester interrupted, “my king please, let me try.”

King Dakk could barely keep himself from throttling the woman. “Be quick.”

The jester hurried over to Sahar. “I am so sorry but King Dakk is not used to females of your caliber. Please he just wants you to help us be ready for this rising threat. I am sure he will let you leave afterwards. Just give him some leeway and try to respect his traditions and leadership.”

Sahar looked at with open skepticism.

“Please, if not for him, for the people,” the jester begged, “we are at your mercy.”

King Dakk frowned at that line.

Sahar sighed and closed her eyes. “Three days then I’m leaving.”

King Dakk plastered a smile to hide his true intentions. “Of course.”

BOOK: Kingdom of Lies

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