Untitled: Elves

“Sold for three-thousand credits!” Bellowed the Auctioneer, the man licked his lips and grinned at the lord who had just purchase one of his lesser slaves, and for so much, he man nearly roar right laughter right then and there, but business, business, back to work. The Auctioneer turned back towards the crowed and grinned, “On to our next set of business! Bring on the next slave!” 1

Two burly guards opening a cage and pulled forth the closest slave they could grab, “Ah, yes!” the Auctioneer yelled, “Bring him up here, he’ll do just fine!” One of the two guards closed the gate as the other held the young man in place, one the cage was locked again the two guards grabbed the boy under the arms and drug him up the of the auction block, “Set ‘em down and lock ‘em up boys!” Cried the Auctioneer, the guards complied, as they set up him on the auction block one guard shackled his arms behind his back, while the other connected a chain to the collar around the boy’s neck to a iron loop attached to the cement block, “Good, good,” said the Auctioneer as he shoed the guards away, “Now! Ladies and gentlemen! Who will take the first bid on this young stallion of a man?” 2

The boy, was not a boy, well as to say, he appeared to be eighteen years old at least, he was filthy, covered in dirt and what appeared to be either dried blood, or a very red clay but it was hard to tell against the rangy brown of his tunic and britches, his clothes we’re wore and decorated with holes and patches, his hair black messy of dirty curls slicked down in some places with who know what and sticking straight up in others, the boy was a mess. 3

She slowly drank the wined- blood. As her eyes peered over the cup, she watched the auction block with interest. Often she came here for business, some times just for the tranquility of it. 4

Today, well today, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. She looked up, her brooding dark eyes falling on the boy. He was certainly a looker, probably feral as hell. She would almost bet that he’d been beaten with in an inch of his life. He had that specific look to him; she’d seen it for years, the look of fear, of confusion, feral, and of course defiance. 5

She reached a fingerless gloved hand to push a lock of her hair back. Her hair was the color of red, of blood. The pure natural red that no dye will ever match, but no one could for sure say that it was natural. It was the color of freshly spilt blood. In the dark it looked dried, long forgotten. She had the skin of an aged vampire, the pale- never- seen- sunlight, look. Even her small sharp points of fangs, screamed vampire, barely noticeable, but there. Yet her eyes, her eyes said it wasn’t so, no vampire ever had those eyes. It was the curved luminously large eyes that made you think feline. She was dressed in black; the corset was stitched with the same color of her hair. Her pants were the color of night, the deep rich black of shadows. They were so tight; she must have been poured into them. They flowed smoothly into the thigh-high boots. At her hips hung a small berretta and a nine-tailed whip made of dragon’s hide. The boots themselves had about a four- inch heel. She liked the soft leather of them, and the way they fit her legs like skin. It was with that glance, she stood. 6

Moving quickly over to the auction block. She’d reached the front, still a part of the crowd. It was her calm presence, the surety in her voice that caused the crowd to quiet. She spoke softly, with an air that said she wasn’t used to being ignored. ” Might I examine him?” She called to the auctioneer. She was already at the top of the stairs before the man had answered. Her eyes looked back to the boy. He was her target at the moment. 7

The Auctioneer stammered at the forcefulness of his woman, but the aura in which she carried herself in was of high authority and that meant money, so of course he didn’t object but instead bowed his head slightly and muttered, “Of course, Mi’lady, of course…” 8

From his forced kneeling position on the auction block he rose his head to attempt a gaze at the mistress that had taken a interest to him, but before he could fully turn his head, a gauntleted fist came down hammering into the side of his head, the below felt like thunder crashing down on his skull and the force to knock him into an acquired position on the ground, “Keep your eyes down slave!” bellowed one of the two guards that had carried him up, “Eyes such as yours have no business gazing upon such grace!” 9

He forced himself back into his kneeling position fearing another blow and as he did a trickle of blood began to run from the side of the young man’s head down the side of his face, it caught at his chin for a moment, then dropped soundlessly to the stone of the block, his body tensed at the sight of his own blood and his breathing became a little more ragged, his jaw clenched shut and he forced himself to keep his gaze to the ground. 10

She walked across the stage with the grace and arrogance of any pure- bred feline. Her heels should have made a sound, but there was none. As she watched the blow to the boy’s head, she forced her face to remain in the neutral look. She had her reputation to remember. It was a short walk, yet as all eyes followed her, it seemed to move in slow motion. She glanced at the men, surveying them. That one seemed to notice much, or maybe it was the mark of a good trader. The auctioneer seemed in awe, he wouldn’t be difficult. 11

Yet it was the boy that held her gaze the longest. He truly looked about 400, yet she knew from experience that the price must be at least a thousand. She didn’t look at the guards again, yet she awarded the auctioneer another glance. She paused, standing before the boy. Up close he was a bit worse off. His skin was bruised, swollen in places that were surely broken bones. He needed several baths before he’d come anywhere close to presentable. He looked majorly malnutrition. 12

She reached down and lifted his head to meet her eyes. It wasn’t even a third as forceful, as those men, but it did the job. Just enough pressure to coax an unwilling creature to do thy bidding. She looked deep into his eyes. Hers weren’t as overwhelming. With her thumb, she wiped the river of blood away. Her eyes were still on his, as her hands made a brief, yet thorough examination. She stopped just shy of his stomach, trusting that when the chains were gone, and they were alone, she would be even more thorough. 13

Her eyes narrowed, as she looked to the crowd. From the public view, she hadn’t treated the boy any better than one would treat a dog. You gave it the treatment that was due it. It was only when she looked back at him that he could tell she was thinking. Absently she stroked the sides of his face with her thumbs. Perhaps 1500 would be appropriate?14

He didn’t realize that she was beside him until her gentle, coaxing touch was at his face, drawing his gaze to meet her, he followed freely, willingly, after all he had wanted to gaze upon this woman that had taken an interest in him, as his eyes met hers, something very close to fear lurched its way into his chest and clenched around his heart, he had never in all his life seen eyes like hers before, they drew him in and some how cursed, made him feel powerful enough to break his bounds, but at the same time made him feel weak and helpless, those eyes did something to his soul and if she hadn’t a hold on him, he would have turned away in horror. 15

He flinched slightly as her hand moved over his open wound, partly in pain but fear was the greater factor, he found that his eyes had closed when he flinched and he was grateful to be away from her cat eyed gaze, he wished he could keep them close forever, in the darkness of his mind’s eye he clung to the darkness and if he had known how to pray at this moment he would have prayed for his life. 16

“One thousand, five-hundred…” Came the Auctioneers voice, He paused for a moment thinking, of course his slave was not worth even that much, but this women seemed to have taking some sort of interest in him and the way she carried herself he was sure she could pay much, much more, “Hmn, I’m sure M’lady is jesting, for a fine slave such as this one? Look at the boy, he’s fit as a race horse, and strong as an ox, don’t let the dirty clothes fool you… I’m sure we could agree somewhere around two thousand, three-hundred, doesn’t that seems fairer to the lady?” 17

She glanced up at the auctioneer. Smiling amused. There was no way in hell, her sanity screamed. Gazing down at him, she realized painfully that she wanted this kid. She wanted him to be hers. 18

She stood, taking a step toward the auctioneer. Her face showing the pleasant calmness. She was putting her self closer to the man, an aggressive act she knew. “Sir, let us be open. We both know that he isn’t worth that. We both know that he has broken bones, his breathing is troubled. He looks like shit. He’s been treated less than an animal. Do not lie to me Sir, as I do not lie to you. True you might make better in the long run, but he’ll be on your hands for longer. I am here to take him now. Full payment today.” 19

She smiled and waited patiently. She would get this boy, and she would pay her price. It was mostly the best they would get with him in this condition. She looked to him quietly, and wished to touch him again, but refrained. It wasn’t like her to be so touchy; she didn’t understand why she needed this one. She knew it was important though. It drove through her mind and body like an uncured desire. She could fix this kid, she could feel it. She also knew she’d get him. 20

The Auctioneers eyes looked everywhere but at the woman and his fingers twittered nervously, “Yes, yes of course…” he muttered in a low wheezy voice, “I must have been mistaken please excuse me,” he made a motion with his hands for the guards to release the slave from his bounds, the two guards nodded and moved to unshackle the boy, “On the feet boy!” one of the guards barked as they forced the boy to stand up right, “Please pay me book keeper,” Said the Auctioneer and made a motion towards a second man that was standing behind a counter, “He’ll have the proper documents you’ll need to sign and the keys for the shackles around his wrist and the collar around his neck.” 21

The young man stood there supported by the two guards at either side of him, his head lowered to the ground, “We’ll take him as far as the book keeper Mistress,” one of the guards said, “But after that you’ll have to deal with him on your own.” 22

She smiled softly, as she nodded in agreement. She caught sight of the auctioneer, and knew he had made the right choice. After all, she could be very convincing at times. She looked to the boy, her eyes overseeing the boy’s treatment. She didn’t want him harmed further. That would defeat the purpose of buying him. The walk to the bookkeepers was short. Her heels still never made a noise. 23

Unlike other slavers, she seemed to be protective of the boy. Her fingertips ran down her whip slowly, nervously. She wanted out of here. As the man, an older grim man, filled out the paperwork in the scratch of a hurried man, she turned to gaze at the boy again. Her eyes saw his stillness; the fidgety of the guards. They wanted out of here too. 24

At the sound of her name she turned, hesitating, before tearing her sight from the boy. “Aidea? Mistress Aidea?” The bookkeeper snarled, clearly pissed at her lack of concentration. 25

” Yes?” she asked briskly, bristling at the sound of his tone. She narrowed her eyes as he pointed for her signature. She signed it with the liquid of a movement, and then laid the little bag down. Her fingertips trailed down the paper before she let her hand back to her side. 26

“Very well then,” said the book keeper in a hoity voice, “here is the key, it goes for both the shackles around his wrist and the collar around his neck, and you may have to jingle it a bit to get it to turn, but it works.” He took the bag she had placed down on the counter and replaced it with the key, then turned up his nose as much as he dared at the woman, “Enjoy your slave and please do come back and do business with us again.”27

Seeing that the transfer of the slave was complete the two guards lost interest in the whole exchange and went back to their post, leaving the slave boy standing there on his own. The young man trembled slightly unsure of what to expect next, even though he had spent as much of his life as he could remember as a slave he had never been sold, nervous he stood there waiting for any command of his new mistress .28

She turned to look at the boy, giving him another glance. God did he look rough. She smiled, watching him stand there. So helpless. She walked closer to him, surveying him. She wondered if she would be wrong, if he was as feral as the others. He was trembling; she could see it as she moved even a fraction closer. Close enough to invade his personal space, to be intimidating. Close enough to whisper and not be over heard. Her left hand fingered the key as she waited. Wondering if the boy would dare look up at her. She knew that she’d affected him. Not sure how, but knew she had. Her aura was still closed, commanding and intimidating. She knew that she cowed many around her. She decided he wasn’t going to look at her, so she leaned in close to his ear, her voice a growling purr. 29

” If you run, I will catch you. I will make you wish you’d died. I will lock you alone for days on end, leave you to suffocate, die of thirst and hunger. I will torture your body; use this whip and other toys on your delicate skin. I will make your life the worst of hell if you piss me off. Or I can make it pleasant. I can give you food, water, showers and a room to call your own. I can be gentle, caring and the easiest person. You would never be harmed. I can make this easy. It is your choice.” 30

He could feel those eyes looking at him, feel them on this skin, he dared not look at them again, dared not look into them, never, never ever with out her permission, his eyes narrowed and he stared blankly at the ground, he knew his place. 31

The first word she whispered into his ear, “If” Sent chills down his spine, he could feel her breath close to his face as she whispered to him and the things she whispered made him tense and tremble a little bit more, when she was done he licked his cracked dried lips, it had been a while since he had had a drink of water and never had he had a decent meal.32

"Mistress…” he whispered in a choked voice, “Mistress,” he started again, “I am yours, your word is law, your will is my command, I will not run away Mistress and I will do anything to please your greatness, I will not be an embarrassment to you or anyone in your company, do with me as you will, I am yours to serve.” His trembling had lessened after he had spoken those few words, having them out of his mouth made him feel a little bit better, he knew his place, and he was more than glad to let her know that he knew his place. 33

She nodded, slipping the key into the shackles and releasing them first. His arms were going to be stiff. She laid the back of her fingers on his throat. She said nothing as she took the collar form him. Watching him, judging her actions, she finally spoke again. 34

” Can you walk and how far?” Her voice still sounded judgmental, she seemed skeptical. Even the careful façade she put on couldn’t hide her thoughtful nature. It was true that she could be cruel, be the bitch of all directions, yet she held her own ethics of foul play. If she said she’d give him kindness, then that he would get… until he make a mistake. She listened to his words, fighting the urge to respond. Everyone deserved fair play, but not everyone could handle it. 35

” Remember, you are put on trust automatically. It is up to you to keep it, and convince me that I was right to give it.” She was a frank woman, preferably ready to say nothing that cause trouble. She could be very patient, in time very loving. Though she always held people at a distance. 36

"I can walk as far as my Mistress wishes, and if I can not walk to distances, I will crawl it, or die trying.” In truth he didn’t think he’d be able to walk that far at all, having been locked in the cage for days at a time had exhausted his limbs and the beatings he had received along the way didn’t help much at all, however, when she had removed his shackles and collar he felt much lighter then he had in a long time, the feeling of the collar being removed from around his neck nearly brought tears to his eyes.37

“I will do my best in pleasing you Mistress and any mistakes are my own, I am yours to do with as you will…” he knew his place, it had been drilled into his head for as long as he could remember, he was nothing, a mere server to others, he had been raised in bounds and transferred from merchant to merchant many times, then as he grew the beatings he received only got worse, but after a while he hardly noticed the pain. 38

He still stood there motionless before her, his trembling had subsided for the moment and he waited for her to command him, and despite what she might have in store for him, he was glad to get out of this place.39

She narrowed her eyes again, not quite believing him. She had a feeling he was only kissing up, only trying to avoid another beating. She understood that. She’d done this before in her own time too. She nodded, before turning on her heel abruptly, walking through the crowd. She didn’t wait to see if he followed. It was up to him. If he decided not too, well, there were always plenty of slavers from here to the door. She slipped out of the door, holding it open carefully. She waited a heartbeat or two, and then looked around.40

The nearest tavern and the one she was staying at happened to be with a clan of elves. Good people no doubt, quiet, yet also very high-tempered. They disliked strangers and made it a ritual to “introduce” them. She contemplated taking him there for only a moment, and then decided to. After all, she was not in a habit of up and changing her plans, just for the sake of a soul. It wasn’t her nature. The boy would have to adapt, yet, she didn’t think it would be that difficult. 41

She walked slower, her feet moving carefully over the unpaved dirt. She didn’t appear to have noticed the boy at her side, yet knew every time he stumbled, every time he drew a sharp breath. 42

She reached out, steadying him, when they began to pick their way down a steep hill. She looked around at the small wooded area and smiled. They weren’t that far, which was good, the boy looked to be fading fast. He wouldn’t last too much longer. 43

” It’s just a bit farther, how are you holding up?” She whispered, having not let go of his arm just yet. 44

Traveling was hard on him, even though it felt nice to be able to extend him limbs and stretch out after a while those small joys began to turn into bigger pains; his breathing came heavy and his legs hurt, as well as the blow that was dealt to this head earlier that day, a lump caught in his thought as he felt the arm of his Mistress reach out to support him, he was grateful for the help but slightly surprised by her manner.45

“Thank you Mistress, I’ll hold out until we reach our destination.” In truth he wasn’t sure just how much farther he’d be able to make it. He was relieved when the tavern came into view and was more grateful when they stepped foot into the door. 46

“Ah, you’ve returned.” Said a sharp voice as they entered, “Lady Aidea, it’s keep to see you’re back safely, I hope the journey was not too harsh on you.” 47

The young man was happy; glad they had finally stopped and was able to catch his breath; he licked his dried lips and stood straight waiting to see what would happen next. 48

She was surprised to find the man sitting there. She had thought the dwelling would be empty save for the children. She hadn’t covered her surprise, for the man laughed. 49

“Dackrel, what are you doing here? Have you no more work?” She asked, feeling the sharpness of her tongue. She despised surprises. 50

“Ay… I was bade to wait with the younger’s. It is my t… Lady Child, who is this young one?” Dackrel asked, noticing the boy. 51

She glanced down at the boy, and then looked up. Wondering if she trusted Dackrel enough to tell him. She took the chance, having known Dackrel for a while. He had always been kind and trust worthy. She smiled at the thought, and then replied.52

"He is… He is mine. I do not wish him to be harmed in any way while here, understand?” 53

Dackrel had slipped from his seat and moved to the boy. His hand was on his face, examining him, when she spoke. He had always had the speed to move. It never ceased to amaze her. She worried for a moment watching him, fearing how the boy would react. After all, even though Dackrel wouldn’t hurt him, it was so soon after the slave market. Dackrel’s eyes were the color of molasses, his hair the black and unruly mess of crow’s wings. He was lean, thin and muscled. He wasn’t the nicest person, but he wasn’t a bully either. That was what she liked about him. He gave others the reaction they deserved. She knew he preferred to work and hunt with the rest of the older clan members, but he had a knack for children.