I knew nothing good could come from the fact that the ship had stopped moving yesterday. It was a relief to no longer be bounced around, but this relief did not negate my uneasy feelings. None of the ship's crew had hidden the fact that I was a slave, to be sold to a rich master. This stop surely meant my time onboard this ship was coming to an end, and my life as a slave was about to begin.
A year ago I would have never been in this position, being the only daughter to a wealthy merchant in the Walled City of Notredram, in what was once the Eastern United States of America. No one called it that anymore, as the land was mostly wilds with some Walled Cities in the mountains, and villages of farmers and other Outlanders scattered across the wilds. Despite what people said and thought, two hundred years had not changed the way both Outlanders and those of the Walled Cities looked or talked or even reasoned with one another. Had they not banded together to help retake the Port City of Columbia, where I had been captured?
It was my own fault for getting captured, as I had ignored Z and my father who had both told me to stay away from the fighting. Hot headed as I am at times, I should have listened, and then I would not have ended up here. Both of them were experience in fighting, as they had fought in various skirmished with bandits and rogues over the years. Which is exactly why they were both free, while I was here in the hold of the ship, a slave in a foreign land.
Slavery was not a foreign concept to me. My schooling and parents additions had taught me of many things, leading to me being more educated than Z, though his education was more useful for a time like this. Keeping slaves and treating them worse than animals was despicable, the exact reason it was outlawed in the Walled Cities and in the Outlands. Workers were paid in coin and food for their time and labor, not beaten and expected to go out into the fields ten hours a day. Yet here I was far away from home, where my views merely an opinion rather than laws. Zachariah had tried to explain that other lands were different than ours, but I had never given it much thought until I had been captured.
Now, here I was halfway around the world from him, forced to struggle and survive on my own. He had tried to prepare me, and now alone, his lessons on how different people think and act rang clear in my head. No matter what happened I needed to stay strong. Weakness was exploited by evil men, and this ship was full of them. The city or wherever this ship had stopped would be no less, and I could not afford to catch their interest. Being a slave would be hard enough, a life as a bed thing for some rich man would destroy me.
No!
I would adopt Zachariah's dammable lack of emotion as I was sold, wherever and to whomever that was. Even now I needed to school my features so that I would be able to unnerve my captors when they came for me. I would not have to do it long, just long enough to be bought, and whenever my new owner was around.
Come they did. I heard their echoing footfalls on the wood above me long before the slid back the pit door, allowing sunlight to stream in. My eyes hurt from the sudden splash of light but I did not dare close them or face away from it in fear of what I would not see until it was too late.
Eyes narrowed to help with the blinding light, even as my head pounded from the sudden change in light, I watched as a group of sailors entered the pit. They were a mix of skin colors, and from my brief encounters with them I knew none of them had an ounce of pity for any of the slaves, including me. Each of the sailors held a pair of manacles that clinked every so often as they swayed to the sailor's movements. With each of the five sailors holding a pair, I concluded that five people were going to be sold today, never to set foot on this ship again.
Despite my best efforts to keep my features calm and composed, my breathing hitched as one of the sailors, a fellow with a scar running from his left temple to his jaw, looked at me and smiled before closing the small gap between us. I did not shy away or cry out as he stopped in front of me, manacles outstretched. His shirt had spots on it where seawater had yet to dry, and he smelled of fish and sweat. Though I undoubtedly smelled no better than him after having been cooped up in the hold for two months. Not that there had been an opportunity to bathe during the last two months.
Using broken English with a thick heavy accent the sailor commanded, "Still, you."
Knowing I would not win in a fight against him, or even if I did the dozens of sailors aboard decks who were between me and shore, I watched as he snapped the cold dark manacles around my wrists. They were tight and I knew that my wrists would hurt long before I got to wherever it was that I was going. My lip threatened to quiver at the thought, but I forced myself to stay strong as I was led across the small room and up the steps to the deck above. My heart beat faster with each step, and I knew that until this was over there was nothing I could do to slow it down. Calm and composed on the outside, I let my emotions run wild internally as I took the last few steps onto the deck of the ship.
My first impression was brown and an immense heat. The heat was stifling and beyond anything I had ever felt before. How did people, let alone plants and animals live in this place? Not to mention the fact that everything, looked like it was all dead or cooked. I felt my body spasm unnoticeably as the thought of living in a place like this while being a slave. It looked hostile and unforgiving, which would be life threatening when combined with being a slave
All of this I took in as I and the other four slaves were led across the deck by the sailors, to a ramp that led to the shore below. Someone behind me sobbed softly and another quietly chanted a prayer. I did neither of these things as I knew it would not help me, though my stomach flipped twice as I stepped onto solid land. Instead I stayed quiet and tried to act as Z had taught me. How I wished he was here, even if was by my side as we were led to be sold as slaves.
He was out there, somewhere, looking for me.
Thinking about my traveling companion reminded me of the soft green forests and the babbling brooks that we had spent so much time exploring. None of it was at all similar to the shrieks of the gulls and the street vendors that surrounded me. Men and women clad in light colors called out in languages I did not understand to all who passed by. While I did not understand any of it I imagined that they were describing their wares, in hopes that someone would take interest and stop to buy something. Had I been here of my own free will I would have stopped to look at the wares, if only out of curiosity in this foreign land.
Just this reminder of what home and the Port City of Columbia had been like slowed my beating heart. Somewhere in the back of my mind I imagined myself free, wandering the streets buying whatever caught my eye or I thought I could trade somewhere else.
Instead I was roughly forced through the early morning crowd on the docks and the surrounding streets. Still I was able to take in the sights, sounds, and smells of this new city. It was all so new to me, as I had never been to Africa or the Middle East, much less crossed the Atlantic Ocean. Z had not either, though he at least would know more than I, having traded with men from lands such as this one, in the past. He at least may have had a better idea which I was in, as I could not tell if this was Africa or somewhere in what was once known as the Middle East.
The smell of cooking meat with a heavy overlying amount of spices made my stomach growl. I could not remember the last time I had eaten a decent meal, as all the sailors had given us was moldy bread and leftovers from their meals. It had been enough to survive off, but now with the smell of real food my body began to go weak. At this my eyes tried to water but I composed myself and banished all thought of food from my mind.
Besides just food I saw more wares of all sorts being sold at the market stalls or inside actual small mud-brick buildings. Despite the dull light brown being everywhere, there was so much color in the flowing dresses and shirts that hung on racks, moving slights with the breeze. Rugs with intricate patterns and gold tassels hung from bars or were piled in rolls of color. Plates and vases had splashes of color and pictures, actual pictures painted on them in lifelike imitations.
All of this color reminded me of the markets in the city of Columbia. After all my years of wearing dull colors, the brightness and festiveness of what most people I had met wore still shocked me. Z had not been like that, but he rarely spent more than a day or two in any city, so he hardly counted. He was always wearing brown or green, but these were because he was always in the forest. Still, even he would have been shocked by this marketplace and its people as I was forced through narrow streets full of life and noise.
Our journey through the marketplace stopped as a huge creature that I believe was called an elephant lumbered in front of us, its driver and two men dressed like soldiers astride its cloth covered back. Two columns of men dressed like the two on top of the beast followed behind it, with a large boxy car that looked like it transported goods or could hold criminals followed behind them. Vehicles from the days of old were a rare sight back home, as the few around were mostly farming equipment or ships that had been converted to steam power. Once I had seen a gasoline powered ship docked in Columbia, which had been a sight, as they were rare as gas was extremely expensive. Once I had asked Z about it, and he had explained how gas was rare to find and the few areas where it was still mined and made were far away. Perhaps now that I was on this side of the Atlantic I would see such fascinating things more often.
Before I could start moving again, I noticed a man staring at me from across the market. He was not the only one who had, as many of the crowd had looked at me since I had gotten off the ship. This man seemed different though, as the others had looked with curiosity and perhaps shock, while he seemed to judging me. After a moment more he spun around and set off at a run through the market. Whoever he was I was disappointed to see him go. His look had made me feel like a human, not a piece of stock to be sold.
These thoughts were interrupted as I was pushed forward. Although I was being forced forwards along with the other slaves as we walked through the streets, the sailor was not rough on me. Most likely this was due to the fact that his Captain wanted to get as much money as possible for me. Any damages or bruises to me would lower my value and cost them money, something neither I nor they wanted. A loss in value would anger the sailors as they wanted to get as much money as possible for me and the other slaves. Anything less would cut into their profits, and if a slave was no longer profitable then lie any other stock they would most likely be killed.
Inwardly I shuddered at the thought of something going wrong, which led to me not being bought today, or in the next few days. I doubted that it would happen, but there was always a small chance that something would go wrong.
It was strange to think of myself as a good to be sold to the highest bidder. In all of my life I had never dealt with slaves, but here I was being taken to an auction so that I could be sold like a herd of cattle to whoever was willing to pay the most for me. My only hope was that my master would see that I had more to offer than just my body, and allow me to use my knowledge of medicine and rudimentary cooking to serve him and his interests.
"Sold!" a voice boomed in English from somewhere ahead. It seemed to come from a square that I could see through an archway in between two sand colored pillars.
I got a better look at the place as I was marched into the square and brought to the right side of a stage that rested in the back of the square. Other men stood in front of me, holding chains or ropes that led to slaves waiting to be sold. Some of the slaves had rags on them for clothing, some had none at all. I considered myself lucky that my dress was mostly intact, despite the grime that covered it.
Fifty or so people made up the crowd of buyers that stood in front of the stage. They were a mix of skin colors that I had been taught to recognize as European, African, and what I could only guess to be Middle Eastern, all in various colors and styles of clothing. I had met a few Africans both from their homeland and ones that either moved to America or their ancestors had been in America before the world had changed. They had been full of life and despite the rumors that they were savages, the traders from Africa had seemed kind and honest when they had spoken to me. None of the audience here, showed any sign that they had a shred of compassion for the people they were buying.
"Lot number fifteen. This specimen was caught on the West African coast. It is one point eight meters tall and 82 kilograms. Good muscles and form for field work, or for other physically demanding tasks. Bidding will start at one hundred marks."
From somewhere in the crowd a hand raised, my eyes picking out an arm swathed in a light blue cloth against the brown wall that surrounded the square.
"Do I hear one fifty?" the auctioneer asked.
Closer to me a hand raised, signaling the increase in price. It was from an African clad in yellow whose arms had three gold and copper bangles encircling it.
"Three hundred, do I hear three hundred?"
Another hand from in the back raised, coming from a man clad in green with a small red hat on his head.
Before the auctioneer could continue the man in blue raised his hand and stated, "Five hundred." His English was excellent, though he had an accent I could not place. From his style of clothing and tanned white skin I guessed that he was from an estate, mostly likely in Europe., along the coast, where there was lots of sun.
Groans echoed from the other members of the crowd, who I assumed either did not have the money or were not willing to pay more than five hundred marks for the slave. Since I did not know the exchange ratio, I assumed it was one to one as I considered the cost of the man. Back home five hundred dollars was three or four month's wages for most workers. My father made much more, and Z had made just enough to spend over three hundred dollars for the dress I currently wore, without it hurting him financially.
Clang!
"Sold"
The clang was from a small gavel like the ones I had seen used before at auctions. With it meant the end to the bidding and a new piece to sell. I watched from where I stood as the tall African was led off the stage and away to a group of slaves that must have also already been sold. His face showed no sign of his emotions as he stood there with the others, quietly waiting the end of the sales for the day.
"Lot number sixteen. Captured during a raid on a caravan making its way along the Silk Road, this beauty is high spirited. Watch her, she killed much of the raiding party and has been in a cage since. Good for fun or perhaps labor if you can break her spirit."
At the mention of the Silk Road I looked up and stared at the beautiful woman that had been placed on the stage. Her hair was jet black while her skin was warm, soft, a shade that signaled her as one from the far off Orient. Her clothes were in good condition but they revealed more than a woman like her would normally show. Despite her being in a fight when she was captured I saw no bruises or other marks that signaled she had been hurt. Then again, perhaps they had allowed her time to heal, as pretty or not she would not be worth selling with black and purple bruises on her face.
"Do I hear six hundred?"
My thoughts had distracted me and the call for six hundred dragged me back to the present. I had no idea what they had started at but I had a feeling this would go on a little longer.
"Six hundred. Do I here seven?"
The man in light blue cloth raised his rand, signaling the increase to seven hundred. To afford one slave at six hundred and another at least seven hundred meant he had a fair amount of wealth. Whatever he grew or raised, it had to be worth a lot of money, or he simply had a large amount of land on which to grow it on. Had I not been a slave I would have been curious to know what he did that brought him so much wealth. Perhaps I would learn, if he bought me as well.
"Do I hear eight hundred?"
A new hand raised from the far back corner, closest to the slaves. It was clad in a simple green with no adornment at all. This was the first time it had raised itself since I had arrived.
"Do I hear nine hundred?"
Again the man in blue raised his hand, bringing the price of the female warrior to nine hundred.
"Do I hear one thousand?"
The man in green raised his hand and offered, "Twelve hundred." His English was better than the sailors who had led me here, but still not as good as one who had born and grown up in America or the man in blue.
"Two thousand." The man in blue spat, casting a smile back towards the green clad man.
Dipping his head in submission the green clad man did not raise the price.
"Sold!"
With that the warrior was led away to where the African that had been sold before her, was standing. They made an interesting pair and I knew that I wanted to end up with them. Hopefully the man in blue would be willing to buy me, even after spending so much money already on just two slaves.
On and on the auction went, selling most of the slaves in front of me for three hundred or so a piece. None of them were in near as good shape or fitness to be good for any long amount of heavy work. Still the majority of the men were bought by the man in blue, with a few of the better looking females being bought by the man in green. I had the feeling that he ran a pleasure house of some kind, as he never bid on any woman who did not look at least a little pleasing to the eye. Disturbing as it was, the women had a better chance at surviving as whores, than as hard laborers who were whipped for any fault their masters found with them.
Before I knew it, I was being brought up onto the stage. Patiently I stood and awaited my fate upon the weathered wood platform.
"Lot number thirty-one. A rare beauty from far away. This one was captured on the high sea from a band of Sea Wolves. She is from the Americas and is in the best condition you have seen yet today. There has been no trouble with her and she can be useful for whatever you need. Bidding will start at six hundred marks."
Pressing my lips together in shock at how I was valued at what the African had been sold at, and at least more than what the Oriental had started at, I waited for the bidding to commence. There was no point to do anything other than wait, and wait I did.
"Sven hundred, do I hear seven hundred?"
The man in green raised his hand, a smile across his face as he no doubt thought about what money he could make from me.
"Do I hear eight hundred?"
Before the man in blue could raise his hand, the man with the gold and copper bangles raised his. This was followed by two other men which brought the bidding to eleven hundred. Still the man in blue raised his hand.
Somewhere deep inside me I hoped that I would go to him. He would be no better than the others but at least I might be treated slightly better if he was willing to pay this much for me.
Suddenly there was a flurry of commotion from the back of the square, and a man riding a horse appeared and announced, "Two thousand," in a thick accent that sounded similar to that of the vendors who had been selling their wares. His clothing was much finer than that of an of the people I had seen today, including everyone in the crowd before me. Beside him on a second horse sat the man I had seen earlier in the market, who had taken off running after looking at me for a few minutes. He must have run off to tell this man on the horse that I had arrived. Behind them a half dozen armed and mounted men waited, some facing outward into the street, some eying various members of the crowd. Whoever he was he was powerful and wealthy if he could afford six guards, horses, and the fine clothing he and his men wore.
Before his words could finish clearing my ears the man in blue gave him a hard look before turning his attention towards me and replying, "Three thousand."
Silence met his words as if no one could imagine such a price. My heart began to beat faster and faster as I waited to see if the man on the horse would raise it.
"Four thousand," he retorted. His companion leaned over and whispered in his ear, but one word from the man had him closing his mouth.
At this point the auctioneer seemed ready to end this conflict, which was much more than just a bidding war it seemed from the way the crowd held their breath and watched both men anxiously. His eyes had never strayed from the man on the horse. The man's guards had not changed their stances, which made me hope that the bidding would end without bloodshed.
"Five thousand, go home to your palace Prince," the blue clad man replied.
Clearly angered by this statement, the man on the horse clutched his sword that hung from his hip but the auctioneer cut in, "I will remind everyone that no one is above the law here. Violence or threat of violence will result in swift and brutal punishment. Even you Prince. If you have an offer make it, otherwise I want you gone, now!"
Stormy faced, the man who that been referred to as Prince glared at the auctioneer and the man in blue before turning his horse around and leaving the square. Without a word his men followed him out of the square, none looking back as they disappeared around the corner.
"Sold, for five thousand. I imagine a few nights with her in your bed will make it seem like mere coppers," the auctioneer finished before chuckling at his statement.
Stone faced, but with a sense of dread at the idea, I was led off the stage to where the African and the Oriental woman waited along with the cluster of other slaves that our new master owned. Both looked at me with a light that I had not expected to see, as they had taken their sale as calmly as I had. That one look was enough to calm my thoughts, perhaps there was more life to them than I thought. This gave me hope even as I learned that I was the last slave our master was going to buy, and we were loaded up into wagons for transport.
Rather than be placed with the others in the wagon, one of the men who I assumed worked for the man in blue led me to a horse. He helped me climb up into the saddle before tying a rope to my chains, which allowed him to control me as he and my master climbed onto horses of their own.
Compelled by a force inside me, I looked my new master in the eye and uttered, "Kaelyn." Finding strength I added, "My name is Kaelyn.
Looking at me with no emotion in his face, he simply nodded before talking loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Move out."
Whether or not he cared about my act of defiance, would show in time as the man in blue led me and the rest of the slaves to our new lives.
YOU ARE READING
The Walled Cities
Science Fiction**Previously Featured in Wattpad Picks, Undiscovered for now.** Earth. Two hundred years after the fall of civilization, the remains of mankind have divided into two groups: those that wish to carry on some sense of civilization live inside one of t...
