Chương 9: Old Faces in the Woods

The next morning, another overseer named Lukas yanked me out of line before the work gangs formed to take our shifts replacing the other group. Lukas: "Little One-Arm, you're done with the ditches... for now. Berntraut's soup stretches only so far for us. Too many new settlers flooding into Mat, too many new babies being born crying in the repaired quarters for food. The city needs new food supply from outside these walls. Foraging duty from today onwards! Until otherwise told. You slaves are perfect for it...

easy to replace, if nature takes you out. And forget thinking of running away. You go in small mixed groups from different branches of slaves from different towns/villages nearby, so no one gets any bright ideas for foolish activities." He shoved a coarse sack into my left hand and nodded towards the eastern gate of Mat. arrived there i was immediately with quick of a haste from soldiers that carried heavy chains on them.

They put me in a five-man chained group: Drembus, the loud fifteen-year-old from Lae I actually knew, and four others.... strangers to me. One of them, a broad-shouldered man in his forties with a thick gray-streaked beard and hard eyes, stepped forward when the guards called roll for us. They lined us up for roll call at the exit gate. The guard yelled each name like an insult in tone.

"Drembus, coward from Bener." The loud fifteen-year-old from Lae, the one I already knew, stepped forward, jaw tight.

"Surdix, stubborn coot." The broad-shouldered man in his forties with the thick gray-streaked beard and hard eyes answered with a grunt.

"Röstil, traitor of Mat." A man of about twenty-five stepped up next. Even in torn slave rags and ankle chains, he carried himself with the straight-backed presence of low nobility. His shoulders were square, his gaze steady and proud, as if the iron around his wrists was merely an inconvenience rather than a death sentence of his freedom.

"Lindrox, miner of Hagea." The last man, nineteen years old and built like someone who had spent his life swinging a pickaxe underground, gave a short nod. His face was scarred and weathered beyond his years. When the guard reached me, he sneered, "Erumes… Little One-Arm." We were chained together in a short line of five and marched out under the morning sun. After ten minutes walking through the woods, Drembus couldn't hold his tongue any longer even inside the unknown woods.

Drembus: "Sentrix," he spat on the ground and kicked a stone so hard it skittered into the brush.

"If that fucking bastard hadn't surrendered, we wouldn't be out here picking berries like chained dogs, while Lord Himmel sits on his throne." Before anyone else could react, Surdix wheeled around and drove a heavy fist into Drembus' stomach, nearly knocking the boy off his feet toward the ground.

"Are you so whipped your brain stopped working, boy?" Surdix growled, his voice low and rough.

"They would have come for us anyway. Surrendering or no surrendering, Metia needed bodies for their slave markets. They bled Osmium coin and good men fighting in the brother's war for the throne. Where do you think all the women from Lae alone went? My group saw the wagons on the road,... breeding stock for the winning soldiers. They laughed and salivated about it, and the screams… all of us powerless to stop it. It still haunts me. Metia wants to grow fast.

They would've taken what they wanted whether we fought or kneeled to the invaders. Don't lay it on Sentrix. Our only real fault was living next door to them, we simply were unlucky in our nations location." Drembus in denial kept spitting on the ground and continued walking. The short chain between our ankles rattled with every step. Surdix: "I'm not even from Bener like most of you pups. Came from Adborgia up north, one of the everlasting winter nations.

When those bastards from my homeland won battles, they did not enslave... they raped while they killed the rest. I was not a warrior i hated what they did so i took my skills and turned out i was good with numbers, so i turned a merchant who ran from them freaks to Bener, my luck just eventually ran out... hah what a turn of events running from their unending barbaric lifestyle arriving to this new lifestyle. At least here I'm still breathing. Now shut your mouth and stay in unison.

The reason they send slaves out here isn't only because we're cheap.

"Woldrians." His eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped even lower as he scanned the terrain.

"Ferocious monsters. They can grow up to three and a half meters long, longer than two tall men laid end to end. They walk on all fours, with shoulders as high as a horse's back. Males carry the soul attribute, females fire, but any of them are nightmares given our current circumstances shaking his chains wiggling our in unison. The females tend to be stronger, while the males are usually bigger. Worst part? They can reach speeds of 120 to 180 kilometers per hour in a full charge...

faster than any of us with or without shackles. Their jaws are so powerful they can bite straight through the massive trees in these woods, and these trees are twice the size of the thickest oaks. One snap and a trunk thicker than your chest shatters like dry kindling. If we meet one, pray it's a juvenile or a young one." An adult meant certain death. The warning landed heavy on the group of ours. Even Drembus stayed quiet after that, his usual fire dimmed by the image of jaws that could splinter ancient timber.

Because foraging parties were allowed weapons (a mercy, yet we had to pay for ourselves), we had spent the previous evening trading scraps or our hard working extra shifts. I had worked two extra hours hauling stone the night before...

so in this morning, when we got shackled as a unit, we got the advise to gear ourselves up at the exit, the merchants there who profited heavily with slaves like us who already made pretty much near nothing all so they could suck our coin dry before our eyes showcasing their might in economic fashion, slave versus citizen. At least I could cover the cost for all five of us. In return, the guards handed us five shabby spears,..

crooked in make with rusty iron tips that looked more like kitchen knives lashed to sticks. They were ugly and poorly balanced, but they were what we could get for our measly copper. Still, they were better than bare hands. I felt the weight of mine in my left hand and tried not to imagine how useless my currently missing right arm would feel if one of those monsters charged at me.

But we found some berries in some brush nearby, unfortunately not much, but enough to get one full basket with a half full one, on the first day. The day ended rather uneventfully, which was a blessing for us. The second day went better than I expected. We found thick clusters of late-season berries, sour apples still clinging to wild trees, and even managed to snare two small rabbits with our shabby spears. No Woldrians around.... No blood drawn of ours.

When we dragged our haul back at dusk, the overseer only grunted instead of cursing us this time, compared to yesterday where we got very much insulted for our little " effort" that we shown them. Dawn of the seventh morning found us marching out again, spears in hand, the short chains clinking softly with every step. The air was crisp, smelling of turning leaves and distant woodsmoke. I walked between Surdix and Röstil, my left hand gripping the spear tighter than necessary.

The dream of my father still burned quietly in my chest as my thoughts lingered there. But I was no longer the boy who wanted to die in the dirt. We moved deeper into the wild fringes beyond Mat's ruined walls, eyes scanning for berries, roots, or the tracks of little young boars. Every rustle in the underbrush made my heart jump thinking of the Woldrian. Surdix kept glancing at the horizon, muttering old Adborgian curses under his breath.

I adjusted my grip on the spear, feeling the new strength in my left arm thanks to the prior days of training with it, and whispered a silent promise to the small flame my father had left in me. No matter how hard and dirty the path gets, I will get my will back completely and start over by getting Siegfried´s Head! All of a sudden, Lindrox, the young miner from Hagea, glanced at me and then at Drembus. A bitter half-smile crossed his face.

"I know you two," Lindrox said quietly.

"Saw you in the mines once or twice back in Hagea. Erumes, a young lad always eager to prove his worth. And Drembus… we were both in the archer unit together, bombarding the Turtle Wall unit, before the final push. We shouted ourselves hoarse on that heavy raining day, until we could no more. Seeing Healix and Bruxix fight was also something unforgettable." Drembus shook his head, still angry about everything. He had every right to be furious, but his cowardice kept pointing that anger at the wrong person.

It was always Sentrix this, Sentrix that. I had finally had enough. Before I could snap at him, we heard a rustle in the bushes. It was like a shock... everyone froze. No one moved for a good four seconds sweat building on our faces. We all hoped it was just a rabbit. It turned out to be a small boar. In a burst of anger and fear from the situation, nearly everyone had pissed themselves moments earlier... in retaliation of the unwarranted build up fear factor, we hunted the boar down successfully.

We returned that day with two boars and one casket full of berries. Pleasing the Overseers on return with the shown goodies and each of us getting some good copper in return. For the next week we pushed deeper into the wilds, foraging every food source possible. Small arguments broke out almost daily between us over where to go or how much we should gather that particular day. Lindrox wanted to stay near the riverside, where water was plentiful and fish were easier to spot and hunt.

Röstil argued for venturing a little deeper into the forest, where berry bushes grew thicker and more plentiful. I kept insisting we stick to known terrain and the safer paths we had already mapped, because the danger was lower and we could retreat quickly if needed. Surdix, the oldest and the one the guards had unofficially made our leader, overruled us all. He pushed for the foothills closer to the mountainous terrain, even with the risk of migrating Woldrians showing up.

He claimed the best untouched patches of late-season fruit and roots lay there. The reason was, he got chirpy with us, in ordering us around with his growing coin gains in mind. Despite the bickering, we did well. We gathered more berries than before, snared another rabbit, and even found a small patch of wild onions. Drembus kept muttering about "getting revenge" on Surdix for scaring us with his Woldrian stories. Then, on the eighth morning, the every drawn fear found us.

We crested a small rise and spotted it on the far side of a hill: a juvenile Woldrian. It was still massive, easily over 1. 90 meters at the shoulder, crouched over the half-eaten corpse of a large bird. Even from a distance its dark fur rippled with muscle, and faint red-orange embers glowed along the edges of its jaws, hinting at a fire attribute. I whispered urgently to the group, "We should retreat now. Quietly. It hasn't seen us yet." Surdix's eyes lit up with something greedy instead...

his brain became to coin oriented.

"Look at the wound on its flank. It's hurt, probably from whatever it fought over that bird. A juvenile this size could still bring 20 silver if we take it down. That's more worth than a month of foraging. Golden opportunity for all of us." I vehemently shook my head.

"It's still a Woldrian. We should go back. Did you not put its might into our heads as warning to take it serious?" Drembus, eager to prove himself and all other from his " coward" title, using that animal whom got build up as a dangerous wild Animal, pushed forward with a mocking grin at me.

"Come on, One-Arm. Don't be such a coward or do you want my title?" His foot cracked a thick dry branch. The sound was loud in the quiet morning. The Woldrian's head snapped around instantly, ears pricked. In one fluid motion it leapt down the six-meter hill as if it were nothing more than a small ledge. The moment its paws hit the ground it began scenting the air, massive nostrils flaring. In reaction we scrambled backward into the underbrush.

"You idiot!" Röstil hissed at Drembus.

"Now we have to fight it, with its back not exposed. We can't outrun it in open terrain." I wanted to argue, but the beast was already closing in. Our golden opportunity had become its, whether we liked it or not. When it was barely a meter away, it launched forward with terrifying speed. We thrust our spears up in a desperate line. The Woldrian reacted instantly and jumped sideways at the last moment. Its momentum was so great that even the glancing hits snapped the rusty tips clean off our spears.

The broken shafts splintered in our hands. Panic took over us. Everyone except Surdix turned and tried to ran.

"Back to the riverbank!" Surdix shouted, still trying to jab with his broken spear.

"There's a chance there, you dumbwits!" The four of us sprinted like our lives depended on it... because they did. The Woldrian pursued with horrifying persistence, swiping at whoever lagged. One claw raked across my back, the pain exploding hotter and deeper than any whip Görlitz had ever given me. Another slash caught Drembus across the shoulder. We ran sweating and bleeding for what felt like ten endless minutes of hell. Only Surdix stayed calm and fast, somehow keeping pace at the front despite his age.

I couldn't stop wondering how a former merchant could move like that. We burst out onto the riverbank and plunged into the cold water without hesitation. The Woldrian followed, making the mistake Surdix had been hoping for, perhaps because it was young and prideful, or simply refused to let prey escape of its sight. In the water, its movements slowed noticeably, though its claws and teeth remained deadly to us.

Surdix suddenly lunged straight at its fanged maw, driving what remained of his spear into the soft tissue behind the jaw.

"Grab its head, fast! Push it under!" he roared.

"I can't hold it forever... the pain of just holding it is nearly killing me! The heat is burning my hands!"

"Drown the beast!" he shouted.

"If we kill it we'll get silver for all of us!" We threw ourselves onto the creature. Four pairs of hands fought to force its massive head beneath the rushing water. It thrashed violently, nearly throwing us off several times. Its back arched in a final, desperate surge that made every one of us shiver with raw terror as the heat built, it wanted to spew fire even underwater. Claws raked our legs and feet badly. But Surdix refused to let go, and our combined weight finally won the battle.

The Woldrian's struggles grew weaker… then stopped altogether. We dragged its heavy carcass to the shallows, chests heaving, bodies bleeding. Later that evening an overseer patrol with soldiers equipped with loud making whips came looking for us. When they saw the dead juvenile Woldrian, the lead ground cracking whip stayed on its hilt. Instead of punishment we received helping hands and the first respectful nods we had ever gotten from the soldiers.

Of course they haggled us down because we were slaves, but we still walked away with nine silver pieces instead of the usual six to ten copper. It was far better than nothing. We had plenty to complain about, the wounds, the terror, the near-death experience, but none of us did. We were simply grateful to be alive and victorious over such a dangerous monstrous Animal. The next two days were spent recovering in the city while still forced to do light work in town.

On the third morning we received grim news: a man from a different slave branch was to be publicly tortured as an example on the larger stage in the main square. Because our group was currently the most " useless" while recovering, we were ordered to help build the torture wheel. We were hammering the last wooden spokes into place when Görlitz arrived, dragging a prisoner behind him. My stomach dropped. It was Healix, the seventy-year-old general from Lae.

His face was beaten black and blue, his body covered in fresh marks, but somehow his lost limbs had miraculously regenerated over the past month, that he received back in Lae. They chained his hands and legs to the wheel. The once-powerful man now looked heartbreakingly weak. As the guards pulled us away from the square, I walked slowly because of our Woldrian wounds still somewhat fresh. I was still close enough to hear every word that was utterd. Görlitz cracked his whip across Healix's chest and laughed cruelly.

"Why can't you just tell us where the Nibelungen Treasure is or what it is? We know the former Reggente Sentrix hid one in his region. Our information gathering group found out he had one. That's the only reason you're getting this treatment, you stubborn bastard! You've wasted our time long enough. We'll squeeze it out of you with different methods now. Heal all you want..., it only helps us more than it helps you. Hahahahaha!"

The whip fell again and again as the wheel began to turn ripping the old man´s arms and legs wrenching them. I looked away. The small flame in my chest flickered with both rage and helplessness...