The Slave ~ Chapter I

Alai had been a slave for nine years, attempting escape whenever possible. The scars on his back said that he hadn’t made it, though he tried nearly every month.  He would run away the moment the master was not looking, try to get through the gate and up the hill, through the city and into the countryside. His time had not yet come, for when his master turned his back, Ali ran with all his might only to find that the gate was locked.

The lashings the master gave him stung.  As he lied in bed, the pain seared up his back as if tigers were slashing him with their claws. Many of the gashes went across the older ones that were scabbing over and the ones that were now just scars. But he had made up his mind that he would keep trying until either he escaped or died, probably the latter. He was dizzy with the loss of blood as he collapsed into bed. “One more time; it has to work,” he mouthed the words to himself before he drifted off to sleep.

In the morning the master woke him, yelling and slapping his face to get up and start working.  He renewed his threatening of a fate worse than death.  The master was known for his cruelty and torture; he often pulled out the finger nails of the men who tried to escape.  Alai had been lucky to be left with thirty-four lashes.  

He opened his eyes, and before the master could move out of the way, Alai punched him in the face and jumped out of the two story window with the agility of a monkey.  He hit the ground on his shoulder and rolled out of it, fresh blood streaming freely down his back and onto the ground. Not good; he could live with the pain but he would leave a trail of blood if this continued. Pain seared up his back as he ran out the gate and into the city. He grabbed a sheet off of a clothes line and kept on running, not looking back for fear of what he might see. Tying the sheet around his back he kept racing through the city dodging carts and fruit stands, occasionally grabbing a piece of food knowing he would need it later.

He came to the outskirts and ran to the top of a hill.  He examined the city closely and looked for commotions as he wolfed down the food with vigor. In the southwest corner he saw what he was looking for; a large mass of people were searching for him. They would probably look in the houses first, so that put him about a day ahead of them. If they didn’t split up, he may gain two days, but as if on cue he watched with disgust as his pursuers dispersed and started looking through the houses, knocking on doors.

         

His father was a musician and his mother a maid. Two years after their small wedding, they had Alai. They raised him until he was fourteen when he was kidnapped and taken to this accursed city of vagabonds and masters of the most severely treated slaves he had ever imagined. He was twenty-three years old now. Since the kidnapping he had worked the hardest and the fastest of all the slaves, so he had been promoted to master slave, still a slave. He had hoped that by working hard, he might gain his freedom back.  But after he found that that wouldn’t work, he was forced to resort to escape and violence.

         

There was one of two ways to get to the next city; through the forest of trolls, which would take about three days as the griffin flies, or down the road about five days, both very risky. He chose the former and pressed on toward the dark gathering of trees, forbidding and large. He was a fast runner, but brush was so dense, he couldn’t get through it without a machete. As he climbed one of the trees, he begged his pain to recede, but pain has not mercy. The trees were intertwined so much that it was easier to walk along the canopy they formed, making better time than he would have through the underbrush. From overhead, he looked down and noticed a hunting party of trolls.

Forest trolls come in all different sizes, although they are usually all about the same shape, some little larger than a bread box and some a little smaller than the empire state building. The usual size of a troll is about eight feet tall and their skin resembles rocks fitted together. A male troll has spikes sticking out of his head, forming a kind of crown, but the females have a smooth skull. Usually larger then the rest of the trolls, a loner is like a monk in that it worships in solitude.  Other trolls prefer to worship in groups.

Alai finally rested briefly in the branches of a large tree before searching for fruit. The sheet that was tied to his back was soaked through with blood and sweat, his body still flaming with pain. He saw a monkey eating something that had come off a tree not far away. Although it was lower down in the canopy he found a safe way to climb to it and did so with much difficulty. He ate the food hungrily and continued his journey until the sun set in the north. 

From his makeshift bed above the canopy, he looked down at the lights of a troll village. Most of the inhabitants were sitting around a campfire in a circle while the younger ones ran around the village giggling and shouting. On his lap, there suddenly dropped a large, wide eyed creature.