The Conjured and the exiles

Darcia had staid to comfort Daen for a long time, but in the end all she wanted was to be left alone to work out her own conflicting emotions. She wanted him close but she feared him, how could a man so gentle one moment be so brutal and cold the next? Also she knew that on some level he was still very angry with her, he would want an explanation as to why she left again and at the time she did not have the energy. Reluctantly he had left at her request ominously saying that they would speak more on the morrow. As she lay curled on her side she stroked the welts on the back of her thigh. The lotion that Darcia had put on them had numbed the pain but more distressing were the emotions that came with the events of the evening.

It was the first time that someone had actuality tried to rape her, her mind shied away from the memories rather than having to deal with them right now, it was still to close still to raw. But the experiance had brought on an intresting revelation, that what had happened with Darcia back in Echostone hall had not been rape, it had been sex that she had decided was a bad idea afterwards. She had let it happen becuase she had wanted his touch, if she had not then she would have fought him off like the outher men. Why must evrything with her dark lord be so complicated, how could you hate and love someone in equal mesure. Once again Darcia had saved her but then there was the beating why did he do that to her, when she felt that he didn’t want to? He had tried to explain that it was expected of him, that to be able to protect her then his reputation had to remain in tact, to show any weakness was to become a target. Daen thought that it was an extremely twisted way of behaving. The empire was so savage and brutal for all of its civilisation.

The next morning she found that her door was locked from the outside. Looking out of the window she felt deathly tired, and out of harmony with the buzzing hive of activity playing out below her as the last preparations for setting off were made. From her room she could see in to some of the windows opposite dust sheets covered much of the furniture making the towers rooms look forgotten and formless. Daen decided that she would not miss this city. Someone finally released her from her room and she was told to wait in the hall after breakfast for Lord Darcia. With everyone so busy the young woman was largely ignored, she felt a twang of sadness and the ghosts of memories she actively attempted to forget tugged at her as she sat watching everyone bustle about, each of them had a job; they had a porpoise, and had a place. Who was she now, and where did she belong? The questions she had been asking herself since she had fled her family, exiled from the only place she had known.

At first she had survived on hate but in time when she realised what she had lost, that she could never retern she felt like her very heart had been torn out, she thought that the pain would never end; the longing for home. But little by little the mind forgets, and scar tissue forms over weeping wounds. Of course scar tissue is never as good as unblemished skin, it’s twisted, ugly and from time to time there is lingering aches and pain. But to a certain extent she had healed from the betrayal, at least enough to say that it no longer was her every waking thought. It was this knowledge that one would heal from trauma that let her carry on in some semblance of normality today. Whenever she thought about the twisted noble’s lusty sharkish grin, the way he stank of wine and heavy sent, the way his clammy hands touched her…. She knew that in time those memories would fade to nothing, like a bleached tapestry. The fear however she knew would take longer to dissipate, however even that she had her won coping mechanism, stubbornness and anger. Anger could drive her through any fear. Daen sighed; such thoughts were not going to help her and she waited trying to distract herself coming up with a name for her horse.

Darcia had been absolutely furious with Dae for running away again. If she had wanted to leave the spire all she had to do was ask and he would have had someone escort her. Instead she slunk out like a stray cat. It made him wonder what she had been up to; she didn’t have any family in the city that he knew of. What if she had been atempting to visit an old lover, she wasn’t a virgin after all, and it would explain why she was so resistant to his advances if she was in love with someone else. Those thoughts made his blood boil, as an unknown level of jealousy washed through him fuelling his ire further. When he had rescued her he had put all that to the side but once on his own his doubts about the woman’s heart began to gnaw on him again.

In a possessive mood he wanted to find a way to mark her as his irrevocably and unarguably, partly for her own protection, but mostly for his own satisfaction. When he found her in the hall he had expected her to be still upset from the night before, but she seemed to be at remarkably balanced, it was if it had never happened. In his hand he carried a pendent his family crest the raven in its runic form. He knew a spell to burn the image in to her skin, binding her further to him, marking her as his forever. When he came closer to her eyes followed him warily, apparently she was not as unaffected by last night as he first thought. But that was to be expected.

‘When are we leaving for Bala?’

‘It’s pronounced Ba’La my dear.’ He chided sitting opposite her. ‘Remember in Chade all a’s followed by a la are pronounced Ah’La.’

‘That’s not how it is spelt.’

‘Regardless that is how it is said.’ He replied strictly. Daen was a quick learner; her grasp on basic Chade was already progressing well. However she was finding certain pronunciations hard mostly learning through books, but he expected it would be easier once she herd it spoken. He tested her quickly asking a few basic questions in Chade for her to answer, simple things like ‘What is your name?’ or ‘How old are you?’

Satisfied he held up the iron pendent that he had been griping. ‘Do you know what this is for?’

Daen’s eyes widened, it had been a while since she had seen one, but she was well aware that it was a bind rune. A pendent used for marking the skin. But it was more than that, as a child she had seen members of her family marked by the hunters seal once they were initiated. Silver scars that showed a man stabbing a unicorn with a spear within a circle of runes that displayed the promise that each member made during the ritual of initiation prominently over his heart lest he ever forget. She had asked Rahim once if it had hurt him when she studied the marking his shirt left open as he ate opposite from her. With a smile he had told her that it had a lot. Daen had looked suitably impressed and he had gone on to say that it was a good pain, a pain of devotion, a pain to remind you of your oath. ‘All pain passes.’ He told her ‘But if your heart is untrue to the oath the scar will burn once again.’ Daen had sighed; Rahim had always been full of such tales, as a child of eleven her belief in such things had been waning. But as she lerned more about Hunter's and theire rituals she found out that what Rahim had told her was the truth.

Finally the girl answered. ‘It’s a bind rune.’

‘Precisely.’

The girl’s green eyes widened at what he obviously had in mind. The girl certainly was not stupid. She tensed as if to get up and run, but forced herself to sit still. There was no use of running from Darcia. And the sting of her poor backside was a reminder of just how ruthless he could be. ‘I wont run away again I promise.’

‘It’s not about that.’ He said. ‘This is for your own good now come here.’

‘How is branding me for my own good!’ Her words may have been defiant, but she still walked obediently around to her lord. Apparently she was sill remembering her beating. Although he regretted administering such severe discipline to the young woman in last nights circumstances Darcia couldn’t help but be pleased by how compliant she had become because of it.

‘It will show others that you are mine and so not to be harmed.’

‘You could just give me a livery.’ Daen answered swiftly.

Clever little puss he thought she has an answer of everything, and regarded her considering the best place to brand her. ‘No, I want to give you something more permanent. And I’m not putting you in my livery until you can behave yourself in public.’

‘If you’re that ashamed of me let me go.’

‘I don’t think so little one. I have invested to much time and money in you now to let you go.’

He pulled the girl down on to his lap, so that she was facing way from him. Her back seemed to be the best bet, it shouldn’t hurt too much high up on her shoulder and it would be easy to reveal if she ever needed to, while still been able to hide it. But when he attempted to pull down her shirt she began to struggle. ‘Please don’t, anywhere but there!’ Thinking about it last night she had not wanted to have her back revealed either, he now suddenly wondered why.

‘Be still he growled, obey me Dae.’ Still angry with the girl he ignored her pleading protests he pulled of her shirt completely exposing her naked back, the girl let out a shameful sob. And to his horror he saw why.

Her back was covered with a multitude of slightly raised silver scars marking her skin like tattoos. They were runes, a complex and powerful bind spell of three circles intertwined carved in to her very skin, but the circle was incomplete, a deeper jagged scar scored sown to her hip where the knife had bitten in and lost its cause and left the bind runes incomplete.

‘Well now you know.’ She said her voice devoid of tone.

The thought of marking her in such a way was suddenly abhorrent now that he had seen the markings already lacing her back. What kind of monster could have done that to her? To make each rune you had to carve it, geld it with your blood and call it forth,each rune had to be carved carefully and without mistake, to create such a complex spiralling design.....it would take hours of slow agonising pain.

‘Who did this to you?’ His voice almost sounded angry.

‘My family.’ She replied, her voice carefully free of emotion.

‘I’m sorry.’ His murmured. Daen wasn’t sure whether it was out of pity or remorse. Snatching her shirt from the floor she pulled it hastily back on. Her face was drawn with anger her green eyes were hard, but still shining with unshed tears of shame. His heart constricted painfully in his chest he was unable to curb the instinct to hold her. Enveloping her in his embrace he pulled her close. ‘I will never let anyone hurt you like that again.’ She was stiff at first holding herself away but gradually relaxed.

‘Even yourself?’

‘I only discipline you for your own good.’ He replied in to her wild brown locks.

‘I have heard that before.’ Daen said in an inaudible aside.

Darcia left her for a few long minuets to go find something. Darcia went up in to one of the older halls, where there were glass display cases of various artefacts. Ancient swords, bits of jewellery, outdated but sumptuous clothing, musical instruments and a whole host of other random objects. When he found what he was looking for his mouth curled in an unholy smile. It was just too perfect. Although he had negated his branding ambition, he still wanted a way to mark her as his own, and luckily he had remembered something, something that might be just the very thing. When he returned it was with a necklace in his hand. But on closer inspection Daen discovered it actually resembled a dog collar more than a necklace, as it would sit high up on her neck, not like a usual necklace and had a small loop to which a chain could be attached.

‘I’m not going to be collared like a dog!’ Daen said simply.

Darcia placed it down on the table with the pendent. ‘Which one will it be it’s your choice Dae?’

The girl glared at him, but picked up the choker. She turned it over in her hands, It was a like a collar made of silver engraved with black swirling patterns and a stylised Darcia crest. But there didn’t seem to be any way to open it, it was like a thin solid band of metal.

‘I’m glad you can be reasonable.’ Darcia said, and took the collar from her. Swirling his fingers over the metal the sound of a hidden catch realised, opening it up. Reverently he placed the band around her neck and shut it closed.

It was cold, and Daen reached up to fiddle with it. She looked up at her dark lord; he seemed pleased with the result. She tugged it gently. ‘How do I get it off?’

‘You don’t, only I can. It’s a Safora band.’

‘A Safora band?’

‘An old relic, from the first empire when men kept sex salves the women wore these to mark there status and to whom they belonged to, it can only be taken off by the master.’

‘And you’re going to make me ware it in public?’ she said aghast.

‘Don’t worry only those who can read the ancient texts, and that is only a precious few will know what it truly is.’ Darcia soothed.

‘I’m not your slave!’ The girls green eyes flashed dangerously.

Darcia laughed at her indignant expression, ‘No your far more to me that that.’


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The gladiator sale was a noisy affair. Warriors sat and stood in the collecting room waiting there terns. Some of then nervous some of then nonchalant. Young gladiators like Leoff would probably fetch good price, youth meant a good potential. There would be some middle aged gladiators, the better ones would do well, but those who were old or who had done badly were looking at facing a downwards spiral that would ultimately end in rennigation back to death matches or fighting beasts and few survived long in such a life. Leoff had managed to enter as many fights as he could before the auction, much to Sarol’s delight. The young man would have to work hard to make a name for himself amongst the prospective bidders if he wanted to attract a good buyer and not juts a hobby owner.

Sarol had been amused when Leoff admitted his ambition to be brought by one of the members of the Arcanum. Still it was a good dream for a young ambitious man to have. If you fought for a member of the Arcanum you were more likely to be noticed by the emperor. Any gladiator who got to fight for the emperor would be made for the rest of his life. But as well as that fighting for a noble could lead to other opportunities it was not unheard of for gladiators to go on and become men at arms of the nobles. As who could be more trust worthy than a man who owed everything to you, and who could be a better fighter then a gladiator? After all Captain Kef of the western army used to go by the name Kef broadaxe in the arena. Every gladiator knew the story of Kef broadaxe, how he had cleaved his bloody way out of the Fleshworks, and then set about working his way up through the signed arena’s until he was brought by the marshal who in time made him a captain of his army.

Vas was more curious as to Leoff’s sudden motivation than there trainer was, who accepted it as simple good fortune. Now they had a quiet moment the night before the auction lounging naked in the local sauna Vas decided to ask the questions that had been bugging him. ‘I thought you still wanted to save your sister.’

‘I do.’

‘Then why are you here. Not that I think it’s a bad thing?’

Leoff who sat with a towel across his lap added more water to the hot rocks sending up a hiss of steam ‘I worked out that I can’t get back my sister on my own. But perhaps if I get another noble to support me…’

‘But Lord Darcia is not just a noble he’s a member of the Arcanum, and a general for the emperor, he is among the most powerful men in the empire.’ Vas pointed out.

‘I know this.’ Leoff replied. ‘But if I win enough then I could even get the emperor to notice me. Apparently his personal body guard are made up of ex gladiators even the captain.’

‘You mean the Verangian guard?’

‘The very one.’

Vas laughed, his toned chest rising and falling as he threw his head back. ‘Oh Leoff you really do reach for the stars!’

Leoff stood up annoyed his towel falling to the floor and crossing his muscled arms across his chest. ‘And what is so funny about that?’

‘You’re good.’ Vas smiled apprising his friend’s sculpted body. ‘But the Verangian guard are the very best.’

‘Then I will become the best.’ Leoff answered. ‘You’ll see.’

Vas tilted his head to the side and watched a drop of perspiration roil down his friend’s chest. ‘You know sometimes I really love you.’

‘Soft git!’ Leoff laughed and threw a soaking towel at the dark haired man.


Vas had watched with admiration as Leoff had won his every match. Watching him fight was like watching poetry in motion. Leoff fought with the same grim determination as he had in the death matches, but now he displayed all of his skills, fancy sword play and elegant foot work. In his battle raiment and claymore Leoff looked like a hero who had walked straight out of a fairy tale. Some times it was hard to believe that Leoff was not yet seventeen summers. It was likely that Leoff was going to do well at the auction today even an Arcanum member was not entirely beyond the realms of possibility.

‘Leoff?’

‘hmm.’ The young man was adjusting loin cloth. The auction demanded that the body be bared so that any weakness would be revealed and not hidden under clothing or armour.

‘You know we might never see each other after this we could be sold to different stables.’

Leoff actually hadn’t thought of that and his face betrayed as much. His mind had been very one tracked of late. He looked at the solemn face of his friend not entirely sure how he felt. Vas really pissed him off sometimes with his questions, and insistent chatter. But Vas’s naturally outgoing nature had broken down a few of Leoff’s walls; Vas was certainly the closest friend he ever had next to his sister and his father. And on top of that Leoff respected Vas as an equal, they trained together often, and Vas would push himself as hard as Leoff, matching him strike for strike. Vas been slightly leaner had a kind of elegance to his movements that Leoff wished he could imitate. When it came down to it he liked the man, and would miss him, but such was life.

Leoff gave a low cough. ‘I would miss you if that happens. But we could probably see each other.’
Vas nodded, he knew that it was the way with gladiators, you didn’t get a choice with who you lived with all you could do was hope that the person was clean and tolerable. He was lucky to have known Leoff.

The auction began and the men fell in to silence as each lot was sold. Finally it was Sarol’s tern. Men were sold in groups, according to the trainer, only the very best gladiators went in to the arena again. Leoff, Vas and one other of there stalemates entered the auction ring.

The whole process did not take very long. Leoff stood in what he hoped was a strong looking stance, but he couldn’t even begin to follow what the auctioneer was saying. Leoff gleaned that the other gladiator had been sold to someone else. The bidding seemed to be going on for a long time, but perhaps it was just his nerves making it seem longer. Then it was over with a hammer and the words ‘sold to the gentleman at the back.’ Vas’s smile and a hand clasped on his shoulder was all Leoff needed to know that they had been sold together. The young man was surprised by the relief he felt because of it.

Theirs grizzled gladiator master was practically dancing for joy when they returned. He even came up and hugged Leoff and Vas. ‘Oh my boys do you know how much money you have just made me?’

They shook there heads obediently.

‘Five thousand a piece!’ Sarol whooped.

‘But to who?’ Vas asked less concerned with how much they had made.

The pepper haired old warrior turned with a smile ‘Your collars.’ He held out two sets of metal tags on stout chains, each metal disc had a stag upon it, and a name 'Edouard.'