A Joust of Knights

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Loti woke to the sound of slamming metal, and she jumped up and looked all around, wondering where she was. Her throat was parched and her eyes had a hard time adjusting in the dim light as she tried to shake the dreams from her mind. She had been dreaming of a never-ending journey, dreaming of riding an iron carriage off the face of the earth, falling off cliffs and landing somewhere in the ocean.

Loti woke on high alert, looking all around, trying to remember. It was stifling in here, hard to breathe, dust swirling in the air, and she looked all about and saw that she was encased by iron bars. She was in a cage, so low to the ground that she slammed her head as she tried to stand—and immediately knelt back down. She looked around and saw a dozen other bodies lying listlessly on the dirt floor. She turned and saw, beyond the cell bars, the dusty desert, waves of heat rippling off of it; she saw that she was in the center of a small, busy village, horses and carriages racing back and forth, slaves shackled and being paraded everywhere. She heard a sound, and her heart filled with dread to realize it was one she recognized all too well: a taskmaster stood close by, lashing a slave across the back.

Then she remembered: her mother. She had set her and her brother up, had sold them as slaves to this caravan. It was an act which she would never forgive.

“Sister,” came a voice.

Loti’s heart soared as she recognized it and turned to see her brother Loc, bound in shackles beside her. Her eyes filled with tears of relief.

They embraced, and she hugged him tight.

“You have been sleeping the entire day,” he said. “The slave traders brought us here the night before and threw us in this cattle pen. Now we await our fate.”

Loti was horrified as the reality of what their mother had done sank in.

“How could she do this to us?” she asked.

Loc sadly shook his head.

“She must have some reason,” he said. “She must have thought it was best for us.”

Loti shook her head in outrage; Loc had always stood up for their mother, regardless of what she had done.

“Better for us?” she asked. “How could this possibly be better than anything? We are slaves again.”

He shrugged.

“Perhaps she thought that if we stayed with Darius, our fates would be worse.”

There came a clanging of keys, and Loti turned and watched with horror as a taskmaster yanked out several slaves from the holding cell, grabbing them by their ankles and dragging them across the hard desert floor. With a kick and a shove, the shackled slaves were sent off to the fields of labor—joining hundreds of others who were chipping away at rock.

Two more taskmasters approached their cell, and Loti, burning with fury, reached down felt the dagger hidden in her waist. She would not succumb to a life as a slave—never again. This time she would go down fighting.

As the taskmasters approached, she turned to Loc.

“Not this time,” she said with steely determination. “I shall never be a slave again.”

Loc reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her wrist and shook his head in the darkness.

“Please, my sister. Don’t do it. I beg you. For me. Save your fight for another time. You will kill one of them, and you will die.”

“I will die anyway,” she said. “And at least I shall kill one of them. Why should I not?”

“Because,” he said quickly, urgently, “I want to kill many of them.”

She looked at him, surprised by his response and by the deadly seriousness in his eyes. Slowly, she released her grip and slipped the dagger back into her waist.

“How?” she asked.

The taskmasters arrived at the cell, unlocking it, and as they reached to extract another slave, this time Loc rushed forward.

“We wish to volunteer!” he called out.

There came a stunned silence, as the taskmasters looked him over disparagingly.

“You?” one asked, laughing, mocking him.

Loc flushed.

“Do not pay attention to my hand,” he replied. “I can mine as well as any man. I’ve been mining my entire life.”

“What are you doing?” Loti whispered to him—but he ignored her.

“Mining!?” the taskmaster asked. “You know it is a job from which most slaves never return. No one volunteers for it. Nine out of ten will not come back.”

Loc nodded.

“I know,” he replied. “And I volunteer.”

The taskmasters looked at each other, then one finally nodded to the other, and they pulled out Loti and Loc.

“What have you done?” Loti asked him, as they were led off.

He smiled back, a furtive smile that only she could see.

“You will see, my sister,” he replied. “You will see.”