The Blade of Dawn

Chapter 4

"Please," I beg the man. "Please, let me go."

"Only criminals run down alleys at night," the large man replies, eyeing me warily.

"I'm not a criminal." I protest.

"That's for the law to decide." The man grips both of my wrists in one of his bear claw sized hands and drags me behind him. He is wearing a deep red uniform with gleaming gold buttons. He must be some kind of cop.

With my black hair, pale skin, jeans and tank top, I look nothing like the people in this city. I am also dirty and sweaty from the desert. There is no way this man is going to believe that I am just innocently passing through.

If Easton was telling the truth, I will be made a slave in this city. I need to get away.

The dagger is still on my hip.

I twist my wrist out of the man's grip, snatch the dagger from my belt, and point the dagger at the man.

The man's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Leave quietly and I won't hurt you." I demand. I've never threatened someone with a dagger before. I hope he can't tell. I silently hope that this plan works because I don't have a backup plan.

"I was right. You are a criminal." The man says. "Stupid girl."

With one hand, the man knocks the dagger out of my hand and with the other he wraps a coiled chain around my neck.

The chain is icy cold on my skin. I try to move, but every muscle in my body feel frozen in place. The chain must be enchanted somehow.

I am completely paralyzed.

The man tries to pick up the dagger but it burns him, just like it had burned Xander. He frowns at me, his suspicion increasing, pulls the sheath from my belt and scoops up the sword. I am helpless as he slings my body over his back like a sack and begins walking.

After a few blocks, we arrive at the palace.

It stands gleaming proudly at the center of the city like an oversized trophy. The palace walls shimmer and morph, transitioning from blue and green, to pink, orange, and red as the colors of the sunset reflect off the metal facade.

We continue around to the back of the palace and reach a heavily guarded area that looks like a horse corral. But instead of animals behind the metal bars, there are people.

The man tosses me behind the bars and removes the metal chain from my neck. Feeling returns to my muscles slowly and I breathe a sigh of relief. My fingers and toes tingle.

The man leaves without saying another word to me.

There are six other people trapped in the pen with me.

"What is this place? Why are they holding us here?" I ask a woman standing near me. At the woman's side is a little boy with curly brown hair. He looks up at me through his dark eyelashes.

The woman frowns and silently shakes her head.

"Please," I beg. "I am not from here. I don't know what is going on."

The little boy glances at me and then back at his mother with his big brown eyes.

"We are here because we are in trouble. We aren't supposed to talk or we can get in more trouble so we have to be quiet." The boy whispers.

"Thank you," I whisper back.

The little boy smiles, showing big dimples on his round cheeks.

A door on the side of the palace opens and the guards usher me and the others in the pen forward. Before reaching the door, the little boy stumbles and scrapes his knee, releasing a tiny cry from surprise and pain.

"Move, dog," the guard growls. He uncoils a whip, wields it above his head and brings it down onto the little boy's back with a sickening crack.

The child screams and falls. Tears stream down the little boy's face. The guard lifts the whip again, threatening to strike again.

"No!" I cry out.

My hands tighten into angry fists. The guard sneers at me, enjoying my distress, and brings the whip down on the boy again.

I can't stand by and let this happen.

I hurl myself in front of the boy. The whip slices into my arm, wrapping painfully around my forearm before rising up again. I shriek in pain.

"Enough messing around." a deep voice booms.

"Get a move on. Get these prisoners inside and ready for auction." The man continues. His uniform is decorated with medals and symbols.

"Yes sir." The guard who had just whipped me puts away his whip. The prisoners rush inside. I follow them through the door.

A new set of guards are waiting inside with metal cuffs that look like bracelets. The guards put a cuff on the left wrist of every prisoner.

I worry I am going to be paralyzed again. The guard put the cuff on my wrist and I discover that I can still move, but my limbs feel heavy and tired. It takes all of my strength just to stay standing and step forward.

Waiting ahead, there is an elderly man sitting behind an old wooden makeshift table. Next to the table is a fiery kiln and the old man is holding a metal branding iron.

My fellow prisoners approach him, one by one. I am at the end of the line of prisoners.

"Guilty." The man says to the first prisoner in line. He takes the man's right wrist and presses the brand into the mans skin. The man's flesh sizzles.

My stomach churns.

The next prisoner approaches the table.

"Not guilty." The prisoner is ushered to another room. I realize I am holding my breath. I try to steady my breathing.

The line moves forward.

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Not guilty. Guilty.

Then, it is my turn.

The old man's eyes are so dark, they look black. He grabs my wrist. My breath catches in my throat.

"Guilty."

The old man pulls the brand from the fire. The scalding metal is inches away from my skin.

I will not be branded.

As the words form in my mind, the metal cuff snaps off of my wrist. My strength returns to my body. I feel a strange energy pulsing through me. It is similar to how I felt after I encountered the sand snake.

Magic.

This is what magic feels like.

I can't go the way I entered, there are too many guards there, so I flee past the old man, deeper into the palace. I pass through various hallways and rooms. I have no idea where I am.

The guards follow in close pursuit. The sound of their shouts and stomping boots echo through the halls.

I sprint down a long hallway. The hallway abruptly ends, opening up onto an enormous ballroom. The room is full of people wearing elaborate costumes. The fabrics are covered in vibrant metals and gleaming gems.

A thin man sits on an enormous gold throne at the front of the room.

This isn't a ballroom.

This is the throne room.

This is the King.

I turn on my heel to retreat, but the guards have caught up with me and are blocking the hallway.

I am surrounded.