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CHAPTER TWO

Visla

The pebble stone ground beneath me wasn’t a comfortable place to kneel. I didn’t know how much longer I could remain in this position with my hands tied behind my back. My shins were still killing me from sprinting uphill after Lexanne. I scanned the others, looking for any sign of her, but at my angle, I couldn’t see much.

When I shifted my weight from one knee to the other, the rude barbarian that pulled my hair earlier cast me a warning stare.

I frowned and tore my gaze away from him. I wasn’t used to kneeling. Standing all day while I fussed over adjustments to a tunic, dress, or jewelry piece…yes. But stooping or kneeling before anyone wasn’t my forte. And for that matter, I had never even kneeled before the previous leader—King Magdul. In fact, I barely ever saw the guy. I met him once when he accepted my appointment as one of his main clothes makers after my mother died. Back then, Magdul had smugly insisted that I must have learned my mother’s techniques while helping her and persuaded me to take over her duties. Thereafter, I would see him in passing in the capitol. As a condition of my employment, I was required to live in the palace. I was given a small room below the staircase where I mainly kept to myself unless Magdul needed me to make something for him.

But now, the secretive but uncompromising king was dead, no less murdered by these barbaric heathens who paced in front of us now. I supposed half of the citizens would act out or retaliate, but some hated Magdul and every single thing he stood for.

Throughout Magdul’s rule, I had kept my head low, did my work, and never gossiped just like my mother taught me. Trouble never found me…until now.

Silence spread over the courtyard as this new king made his appearance. The vultures he brought with him stood at attention as if waiting for his command.

“What have we here?” he asked, walking up and down the line of captured—mostly women and a handful of males. His brows were furrowed and his mouth was fixed in a straight line. Based on his appearance, he resembled a pure-blood Aurrakian, yet he commanded so much authority. He strode about like he owned the ground he walked on. Perhaps he did. He was now the king, wasn’t he? King Khol…

Another hordesman almost identical in size and skin-shading to Khol stepped out of the line. They favored each other so much in looks, they could’ve been twins. Khol’s look-alike said, “These are the spoils of the raid. In addition to the palace, these slaves—all of them—belonged to Magdul.”

Khol looked his way. “How do you know they are his slaves?”

The hordesman grabbed a woman from the front row, yanked her up, and snatched up her sleeve. “This! They wear his arm ring. Magdul’rso ishti. His symbol. The eagle. See?”

He forced the frightened woman back down to the ground after he was done with her.

“Kunwe wra, they should be executed!” another hordesman called out.

It seemed odd that Khol’s horde already called him by his new title—my King.

The hordesman continued when Khol said nothing. “Yes, execution is fitting,” one said. “Like Magdul’s guards, these yengisi are loyal to him. Only him. I predict they will be a problem for you.”

A chorus of agreement echoed among the horde in the courtyard, yet others weren’t so convinced.

Another exclaimed, “Why kill them, Kunwe wra? That would be a waste of such life. Most of these slaves are human, but they can still be of some use, yes?”

Khol, whose demeanor had not changed since he made himself known, ground his teeth together and gnawed on his bottom lip. His deep-sea gaze turned to darkened slits as he examined the captured. Like all native Aurrakians, his pupils were vertical, resembling the eyes of a serpent. But Khol and his band of barbaric heathens weren’t normal Aurrakians. They were the warriors and builders of legend, bred to be different. Their physique and features appeared humanoid. They sported very broad shoulders and backs and thick muscles that resembled tightened cords as hard as granite. This one—Khol—was nearly eight-feet-tall. He even towered over some of his own warriors.

Khol grunted and said, “Kursaki yengis. Magdul’rso purik. Tas aw ngwe.” He waved his hand and turned his back on the captured.

Used servants. Magdul’s victims. Let them go.

I wrote and spoke fluent Aurrakian tongue, which was a condition of my employment with Magdul, so I knew exactly what Khol was telling his horde. Khol then instructed a few of his men to lead the captured servants away from the palace to another nearby village where we would remain in exile and would be overseen by a few from his horde.

Khol’s look-alike stopped him just as he was about to make his exit.

“What do you want now, Ghid?” Khol asked with annoyance marking his face.

“Listen, my brother. We’ll need their service, either in the palace or elsewhere. They did not care for Magdul. It is known far and wide. Haven’t you heard the rumors? Like everything else in Dretis, they are our spoils. Just like Kunwe spo Kunwei ordered, we are to take everything back, even these yengisi.”

The King of Kings had ordered these barbarians to take our village? But for what reason? What had Magdul done this time?

“As I recall, brother, I am kunwe of this settlement now, but what do you propose?” Khol asked.

“We have just come back from war, my brother. Our men need something stable here to look forward to as they mend. These yengisi, they can give rekpekujke…pleasure where it’s due. And heal. There are even nurses among them. See? So many possible options, so why cast them away from the settlement? Are they not your prisoners?” Ghid inquired.

“I take no prisoners,” Khol replied.

“Then I say we distribute them equally among our men—between your horde and my builders. Between Tirizar and Dravard. We will settle here for the indefinite future, anyway. There is already a shortage of women here. Why send them away to some faraway village when they can meet the needs of those who will protect and rebuild the capitol right here? Many of them are of breeding age as well.”