Slave

I am Darun Nikov and this is my story.

I have been diagnosed with a terminal illness.

Doctors say at maximum two years left.

I tried many things, more precisely my parents didn't leave a single effort for me.

From doctors to 'supernatural experts', all lifted away their hands.

I am dying. I feel it in my bones. I have a small amount of money I saved over my 14 years of life.

I plan to use it all before I die.

Right now I am on my way to D’Italy on a plane.

My parents are with me. They wish to spend every last moment with me till I die. I cherish them.

The plane jerked. Few times.

Smoke from the wing at left can be seen from window.

People running, screaming, crouching beneath seats, putting on oxygen masks.

I close my eyes, tears sliding, dad holding me and mom to his chest, trying to shield us, mom panicking uncontrollably.

This is it.

It should've been, but...

My eyes opened in still water, lying in it, beneath a dark sky, yet brighter than night.

My brain should have smushed up, hearing lost, skin burnt, flesh torn apart, it should have… but it isn't.

What isn't? Where am I? A lake? A river? Then why don't I drown? Take me in if it is the afterlife, don't deny me even here. You do know life denied me in that world.

“IT KILLED ME BIT BY BIT!!”, I screamed, only my neck raised, showing veins.

I stared in that dark sky a while later. No one came. Nothing changed. It was actually a dark, glowing-pinkish sky with black here and there. The sky moved. Albeit slowly. Only to the observer who observes for eternity. It sucks you in, your mind bleeds, eyes lose focus, but after that, it is not your eyes that see but that sky is seen eternally without the need of eyes.

This is not so bad.

*****

“Sir, the kid has woken up.”, a man said in a dimly lit room. Walls of stone, damp and smelly.

The boy wrapped in herbs around his shoulder slightly opened his eyes.

Dark eyes, white-grey hair, young, boy, all of these perfectly fit for a present to the Skylien family.

“What is your name, boy?”, the burly man near the boy asked.

“Darun Nikov.”

“Where are you from?”

“Siscan, D'eshon.”

“What? Sir, have you heard of this place?”

“No. Leave the chatter for next time, Joc.”, another man approaching the boy said to the burly man.

“We have got our hands on something truly valuable”, he smiled greedily, showing his yellow teeth.

*****

The man who caught me is Cascan Bosco. A slave trader. I am better than before. Few days have passed. I think part of my collarbone and upper front ribs are broken. They hurt very much.

The people here treated them. A day or two ago a doctor also came. They fixed my back with a strong support to maintain my posture, so the bones heal correctly rather than in a crooked shape.

When I first regained sense, I asked, “Where are my parents?”

“We didn't find anyone else.”

“But they were with me.”, I told, horrified.

“We found only you in the forest.”

“They c-could be around there.”, I tried reasoning.

“Listen boy, we didn't find anyone besides you, and even if they were there, by now wild animals must have eaten them.”

“No!”, my own dying world was coming apart.

Later from their blunt rough behaviours and the place I was in, I realised I was not a survivor getting help, rather a product getting polished.

This place smells all the time. It is damp, moldy. Food is enough to only power the body. The toilet is far away, with no water. I have bathed only once since waking.

I have rags on me—loose, torn, thick. A metal collar around my neck, with a rectangular chain link which ‘clinks’ every time I move.

I only go out for toilet.

The first night I felt nothing matters any longer, my parents were dead. Next days, I accepted that I got them killed when I was to die in two years instead.

Everytime when their thoughts crept in, my eyes welled, but not a single tear fell, like a raging wave calming down.

*****

Bosco is a powerful man. Middle-aged. Everyone calls him ‘sir’. Like me, this slum-like area is filled with slaves. I have seen some in cages, others tied or severely malnourished to move long distances. Their bones are sticking to the skin.

Undoubtedly, Bosco is giving me special treatment.

At first I couldn’t move my hands much as they induced pain on the broken bones, but now after countless days, I can move much freely. I am well fed, to at least be healthy, thus I am tied too.

My daily life is to stay in the room, once get out to toilet, then wash-up from the nearby well, then get back in the room. Bosco's men usually talk little to me when they return at night.

When I was recovering, one of his men didn't like my attitude he said and punched me in the gut. I doubled down, coughing blood. Since then, the men steer clear from touching me.

As for women, I mostly saw slaves. Kids, adults, older people, all ranges of people are here in different houses.

The idea about sexuality I had before slightly solidified here after understanding what was done to the slaves, as some slaves were to be used by Bosco's large number of men.

But not all these men are content with lowly, dirty, malnourished, lifeless, or unmatured slaves, so I realised the enthusiastic women often flocking the neighborhood at night must be what we call ‘prostitutes’.

I could feel my internal pain intensifying each day without the medications. Good. My days are cut even shorter. I vomit blood now and then. But I try my best to hide it from Bosco.

Because, even if I am dying and don't want to live, I still don't want to die here or stay here much longer. This place is hopelessly depressing and nothing to do bores me unimaginably. And Bosco is preparing to sell me somewhere. That's why I need to remain a proper product without any defects.

*****

My painful patience paid off soon.

I was in a carriage, going to meet my buyer, I assumed.

Bosco, having seen my previous mannerism, carefully taught me basic etiquettes and ways of talking. For practice, I had to daily interact with him as my master.

Some days ago, I was brought new clothes, hairs trimmed, bathed with a fragrant soapy thingy.

*****

I saw greeneries after greeneries. Occasionally passing through towns or alike. I was sitting opposite Bosco in the carriage, Joc on my side. The carriage is jumpy, and nowhere close to my world's fine vehicles.

Some time after getting to the civilised area, I realised this civilisation is old, which meant this world is not the one I lived in.

The horses stopped at a town. Bosco took me with him to an inn. It was bustling. Mostly men. Bosco's men also came. They drowned in drinks with roasted chicken and rice on the side. Bosco had the same, but he did not eat wildly like the others.

For the first time after coming here, I was given an appetizing meal: roasted chicken and rice. The chicken roasted deep red, dripping juices. Sticky long rice mixed with vegetables.

I started with rice. It was maybe the best rice I ever ate.

It had a taste of yoghurt with lots of spices yet not unpleasant. I took a bite of chicken, the juices flooded in my mouth, streaking down my lip. I couldn't care about manners. It captured the best taste of chicken, keeping an amazing combination of spices.

I ate the succulent chicken and soothing rice without a care for what was happening even inches from me.

A big hand rested on my back. Startled, I looked.

“Eat to your heart's content boy!”, Joc said with a big smile.

I ate. Till my stomach hurt, signalling anymore could spill blood out of me.

We started the journey again. With sleepy eyes, I put my face closer to the window. Horses’ sound mixed with wind. Mountains came in view. We ascended. The speed decreased. We took few breaks. Bosco looked concerned at this mountainous path. He was continuously looking around cautiously.

The carriage stopped before a long gate. A guard approached, “Who may you be, sir?”, he asked the coachman.

“Cascan Bosco.”

Bosco passed a wooden card forward and the coachman showed it.

The gate opened. Bosco's carriages, horses, and men entered.

It was a barrack. Soldiers with weapons in hands, training, talking. At the ends, long watchtowers. Buildings ahead. We passed them. Then after a small distance from it, we came to another gate. This time the guard entered and the gate opened after many minutes.

I came out, to stand in front of the castle. Sky looked closer from there. Clouds just straight ahead. Maybe they could be touched from the castle.

Bosco looked nervous.

*****

Late afternoon. Sun emitting warm waves.

Darun stood behind Bosco who was sitting on a sofa. Two of Bosco's men on either side of Darun.

The room was made of polished stones, huge and spacious.

Carpeted floor.

Filled with mostly wooden furnitures.

Thick glass windows.

Four men entered. All in soldier uniforms of sky blue colour. A design made on the right of their white shirts. Swords dangling from the hips.

They stood firmly around the room.

A man entered next. White beard and hair, with a hint of very light blue.

Bosco stood immediately and greeted, “Greetings, my Lord. It is an honor to see you. I hope your health is well.”

“I am fine, Bosco.”, the older man in fine clothes and authority replied, “What brings you here today?”, he smiled a bit.

“My Lord, I have brought a good present for you. It will certainly earn your appreciation.”, Bosco smiled, still nervous.

The old man looked at Darun. His eyes lingered on him. Realising the noble was looking at him, he quickly cast his eyes downwards, worried of looking him in the eyes.

“Darun. Come forward.”, Bosco commanded.

Darun went ahead.

He timidly stood in front of Bosco, looking down. Bosco pushed him on the back. He stumbled and moved forward.

“A little over 14. Fairest skin. White hair.”, Bosco said, “My gift to Lord Calkebar Skylien.”, he bowed lightly in a dramatic way.

“What is your name boy?”, Calkebar asked.

“Darun Nikov, Lord.”

“Where are you from?”

“Country of D’eshon”

“What?”, his brows moved.

“...”

“WHY ARE YOU SILENT!”, he growled.

“S-sorry my Lord.”, Darun trembled.

“My Lord, please calm down. The boy lost his parents recently, thus he has difficulty in organising his memories.”, Bosco said nervously.

“You should have said that sooner, Bosco.”, he glared at Bosco.

“I apologise, my Lord.”

“Why should I accept such a useless slave?”, he said as he approached Bosco, “No less, from you.”

“M-my lord…! Look at his hair, is it not a heritage of the Skylien family…!”

He looked at Darun again. The man thought something for a while, everyone stayed silent, Darun still shaking, eyes downcast.

“Fine. For being so thoughtful of your Lord so deeply, I will accept this gift. And, I will overlook your activities for the last time, think of it as your Lord’s benevolence.”, he smiled a bit.

“Take him.”, Celkebar said.

A servant escorted him out of the room. Leaving the room, the boy could hear Bosco and Celkebar still talking.

*****

My lower left abdomen sharply hurts. I put a hand there, slightly bent and walked behind the man.

The man brought me to a room. There he opened my collar with a tool, like very long scissors. A bind released from my neck, a burden off my shoulder. Before I could feel any more good about it, the man placed a new collar around my neck, very thin, long and dark black. No link joined to it. 

“Torise," he called.

A man came and then as instructed, he took my measurements.

I became the slave of Lord Celkebar Skylien.