THE ROAD TO BONDAGE
1115 Words
Kaidaira’s point of view.
It was the Egyptians, their coarse hands grasping my arms with the firmness of vice grips, that pulled me away. My legs buckled beneath me; my stumbling feet tripped over roots and rocks. The forest that once offered me safe refuge now felt like the memory of another world-a dream that had lasted but a heartbeat.
One of them, a burly man with a cruel grin, forced wolfsbane into my mouth. The bitter taste exploded on my tongue, a burst of rotten fruit. I gagged, my stomach heaving.
"Swallow," he growled, his hand clenched around my jaw.
I swallowed-the potion coursed through my veins like liquid fire, dulling my wolf senses. My vision blurred, the colors bleeding together like watercolors.
Another guard hit me in the stomach. I doubled over, gasping, as my diaphragm went into spasm. The wind knocked out of me, I couldn't breathe.
"You killed your own brother because of a man," one of them spat, his voice like venom. "You are cursed."
I became the focus of their torments, their abuses, like a tidal wave crashing upon me, every word a sharp, precise cut. Their words were like heated coals inside me, shame and anger burning within me, my heart as heavy as lead.
They lashed me against the equine, bound my wrists against the harness of the horse, and arched my body in an uncomfortable fashion. Groaned the leather; the taut rope was digging into my skin.
As we rode off, the jeers and guffaws of the guards renting the landscape, a cacophony of cruelty, I bowed my head, my mind flailing.
Why had I trusted Zarek? Why had I killed my brother?
Memories resurfaced-the fateful night when Zarek had convinced me of my brother's betrayal.
"He's using you, Kaidaira," Zarek had said, eyes all full of concern. "Your brother wants us to end, and he will do anything to get rid of you. He hates me, our love an insult to him; he will do anything to separate us and break our bond.
I remembered the proof he'd presented: a letter, faked, from my brother, outlining his plans to sell me to the Egyptians.
Dumb, I thought now. So dumb.
"Zarek lied," I whispered, and the wind whipped those words away.
The guard at my side snarled. "You're paying for your misdeeds now, wolf."
I closed my eyes and let the landscape blur together: endless plains, rugged hills, the relentless sun beating down. Sweat dripped off my brow into my eyes, stinging.
My thoughts swirled, trapped in a maelstrom of regret and anger.
How could Zarek do this to me? Use me, betray me?
The wolfsbane numbed my senses, but inside, my heart was raw.
As the sun sank below the horizon, casting the world in its bloody shroud, something inside me sparked. I would survive.
For vengeance.
For truth.
The horse's hooves pounded the earth-relentless in cadence. With every step, with every jolt, my body screamed its protest.
The guards' conversation, indistinguishable, flitted around me, their voices indistinct and gray with indifference.
"I hear the master's got a special welcome planned."
"Hahaa, the wolf b***h isn’t above the law."
Their words sliced through my haze and fanned the flames.
I am going to escape.
I have to.
The sun's last rays had surrendered to the horizon when the guards finally stopped in front of a towering structure. Lofty walls with rusty iron spikes running along their joints stood like sentinels of bone, casting long shadows across the parched earth, like fingers reaching out to snatch back life. The air hung heavy with dampness and death, with desperation clinging to it.
"Welcome to your new home," one of the guards sneered, his hot breath against my ear, as he loosed my bonds.
Freedom.
That sudden flow of adrenaline made me run forward, my legs in a pumping act and heart racing. The dry earth crunched beneath my feet, while wind whipped through my hair. But the guards were ready. I heard laughter well up in the stillness as they took me to the ground-their blows falling on me like hailstones, each punch a crackling explosion of pain.
I howled in pain as my vision blurred and my ears rang. The taste of blood and dust was thick in my mouth.
"Try that again, wolf," one of them growled, his knee into my back, "and you'll wish you hadn't."
Dazed and battered, I was dragged into the heart of the fortress. The air inside reeked of mold and sweat and hopelessness. Firefly torches danced upon the walls, dyeing the darkness with a tawdry gloom almost histrionic enough to give it a life of its own.
We entered into a great hall where a figure sat upon a chair like to a throne, shrouded in shadow beyond the reach of the few torches that lit the hall. His eyes, cold and calculating, examined me like a merchant weighing the worth of a commodity.
"Another addition to our collection," he said, coldly and scornfully. "You'll make a fine breeder."
My heart plummeted, heavy from the anchors that weighed it down.
Breeder.
That word marched around in my head as if it was a death sentence, the meaning closing in on me like a vice.
They dragged me away before I could utter a word of protest and flung me into a narrow, dirty cell. The door slammed shut, and I was in complete darkness, the sound of rusty hinges and scraping metal echoing in my mind.
Days ran into days - or was it weeks?
Time lost all meaning.
I never ventured outside, except to attend to "duties." The whim of a rogue king.
Every time, I was dragged out, dressed in skimpy clothes. Dragged into the King's chambers, or the chamber of doom as I preferred to call it, stripped naked, and forced to do all sorts of disgusting and degrading things before the King would feel satisfied enough and wants to join in on the fun.
He roughly handled me, tore into me without any pity. Wry or dry does not matter to him.
Sometimes, we were three or more breeders, and some of his best warriors in the room, forced to turn into live entertainment for the rogue king to watch and enjoy till he felt like joining in, and unluckily for me, I was always at the end of his fingers.
With each encounter, I crumbled, my spirit crushed under the weight of cruelty.
Pleas and cries fell on deaf ears.
I was garbage.
Disposed of.
Forgotten.
But deep inside, embers of defiance smoldered-an inextinguishable spark.
I will escape.
The ‘How’ didn’t matter.
- Writer
