The auction went into the evening. Dwarves, a few half-elves, and dozens of humans stood on the auction block first. They were dregs and thieves and rejects, dirty and beaten down by the cruelty of the world and their own weakness. The orea, however, were hardy and strong. The whip marks on their backs rippled on top of muscles hardened from the manual labor of crushing and hauling rock by hand. The orean slaves sold—all of them—as many as Vicq would permit on the auction block in a single day. And they sold for a handsome sum even for slaves. Vicq smiled as the last orea’s hands, feet and neck were chained and handed to its new master, a blonde dwarf in a tunic and light armor. He was surrounded by at least two dozen other dwarves all with the sigil of Clan Rockfist—an upright fist holding a mason’s chisel—on their shields and chest armor. They came from a mountain range far to the east. Each orea received a water skin around their chest and were chained in line by the neck and led straight out of town.
Vicq watched the dwarves leave then inspected the gold sacks he had earned. Five sacks in all, heavy with the weight of gold and silver. “Reckoner?” he asked. “Is it all accounted for?”
A gnome in a light tunic and large brimmed hat looked up at Vicq and bowed his head. “Yes, Master. I reckoned it … twice.”
Vicq motioned for a platoon of guards. “Gather it all up and take these to the vault immediately.” He paused and looked at the captain. “It was a good day. Be on your guard.” The captain bowed and his men gathered the coins, placed them in a iron box, then rushed off toward the city gate. Vicq headed to his tent. A chariot and driver waited outside. He climbed into the chariot and flicked his wrist, clicking his tongue. The driver snapped the reins and the gila beast hissed then took off, barreling the chariot into the desert. The sun was disappearing into the west and the heat quickly transformed into cold. Vicq looked down and saw a fur poncho folded on the floor of the chariot. He picked it up and put it on.
An hour’s ride away the chariot came upon a post and lintel of monolithic, rough-hewn stone. Iron rings were driven into the stone all along the posts. Armed soldiers with torches stood in a circle around the structure staring at five orea in the center. The chariot stopped and Vicq stepped off. As he moved to the circle of soldiers, two of them stepped outward making a hole in the circle, never looking at him. He walked through the open space, then they stepped back into formation closing the space.
Vicq walked up to the orea he hit with his shield earlier in the day. Behind her stood two older orea, a male and female, and three orea children. “You have a beautiful family,” he said smiling. Vicq squatted in front of her and clicked his tongue. He waved at the youngest orea, a female no older than six or seven. He clicked his tongue again. “Come here, little one,” he said still smiling.
The child moved behind the older orea and hid her face.
“Oh come now, little one. I am not so scary.” Vicq clicked his tongue again and waved her over. “Come, grandmother, bring her to me.”
The old woman squinted and placed her hand on the child’s chest.
Vicq’s smile disappeared and he snorted like a bull. He flashed a look at a soldier, and the soldier came forward and grabbed the child. The child bleated.
“Arxidi!” the grandmother scolded. “Die, you scullion!” She spat in the soldier’s face as he dragged the crying child away.
“And there it is again,” Vicq snarled. He turned to the mother he smashed with his shield. The blood dried on her face, crusty and dark. “Your mouth has doomed you. Had you spoken in the pits or in the mines, I would have only killed you.” He leaned in close and whispered to her with smirk. “But since you disobeyed me in the bazaar, I am to kill you, your parents and your children. But I will save you for the last so you know it was your mouth that cut your family’s throat as sure as we are standing here.” Vicq stood and chuckled.
“I am Norn,” the mother howled. “You will hear me before my death!”
Vic struck her with the back of his hand. Fresh blood ran from her nose, but she remained standing.
“You may take my life and the life of my kin, but you will not take my soul. I own that.”
Vicq struck her again, but she caught his fist in her teeth and bit open a wound. He pulled back and she spit out a chunk of his flesh. He licked his hand and laughed. “Chain them,” he commanded.
The soldiers grabbed the orea and chained them to the post and lintel. The grandparents and children were chained by their necks. Norn was chained by her hoof. Vicq pulled out a Damaskos dagger. The waves of the steel shimmered in the torch light making the blade appear to move and flow. He stood in front of the grandfather, ignoring the old man’s pleas then plunged the blade just below the sternum. The old man took breath then his goat legs gave out and his body slumped. The children bleated and screamed so Grandmother reached out and held the hand of the only grandchild she could reach. Norn held the hands of the children on each side of her. Vicq reached the grandmother and stared at her.
“You take nothing,” she said softly. “I am free.” Grandmother smiled and closed her eyes as Vicq opened her throat. Her hands left the grandchild’s and she dangled. Vicq killed the children next. He guffawed, trying to drown out their screams. Norn held tight her babies’ hands even as they went limp. Tears streamed down her face.
Vicq chortled as he kicked at one of the children’s lifeless bodies. “Killing makes me thirsty,” he said as he moved away and grabbed a waterskin from a soldier. He emptied it as it poured down his face.
Norn continued to hold her children’s hands as she looked at her family.
After a few minutes, Vicq returned to Norn. He twisted his dagger in front of her. “You may or may not live tonight. That is up to you,” he chortled. “You shall regret crossing me, this I know.” He sheathed his blade and asked for a dagger from a soldier. “You will stay chained by your hoof.” Vicq checked the shackle. It didn’t move. “It’s tight. You won’t wiggle out.” He pushed his nose against hers, staring into her eyes.
His breath was a putrid stench of decayed meat.
“I will not slay you tonight,” he said sweetly. “I want you to smell your family rot and watch the birds feast on their flesh.” He jabbed the small skinning knife he took from the soldier between her ribs. “This is for you. You can keep it if you wish. Cut your own throat or just stay here and bleed to death. It’s your choice.” Vicq turned and whooped as the soldiers laughed.
Norn slid her hand up to grab the knife.
“No, no, little animal. You won’t be doing anything to me with that.”
“If you are really brave and strong, then you can use that little sticker and carve your hoof off. You won’t make it far. You’ll bleed to death.”
“Erre es korakas váll eis kórakas,” Norn said drawing each word out.
“But if you somehow make it out and want to come after me, then be my guest. I’ll be waiting.” Vicq smiled and got on his chariot. The soldiers mounted their horses and together they rode away into the darkness.
Norn looked at her family then pulled the skinning knife out of her side. It was Damaskos steel, but the blade was only about two inches long.