Slavery of the Heart by Ally Lei
Disclaimer: I don?t own Gundam Wing or any of its Characters or names.
In the middle of the night, footsteps awoke me. Someone was in my room. The footsteps were of a trained knight, light, consistent in step, and purposeful. Usually I would think it would be someone who has come to kill me but I could smell a smoky, musty smell mixed with a pleasant rose aroma. It was my brother but what was he doing in my room?
I shifted my head so I could look at him with a question shining in my eyes. He obviously saw the movement and noticed my expression because he was staring at me as well, and had a mournful face as if that was supposed to tell me everything I wanted to know. Well it didn?t and I was waiting for him to explain what in the Gods? Hell he was doing in my room in the middle of the night. He still didn?t answer me but now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness I noticed his expression was pained not mournful. It was as if he was fighting himself over something. What was it?
Shadows played over his face and for a moment, when the moon shined through the window unhindered by clouds, he looked like he was an old grandfather with grandchildren. It scared me a lot. I realized I was sort of waiting for a signal to go home permanently. To go to a family that loved me and would take care of me, but I don?t think Zechs will welcome me here in his family where I could influence some disastrous things.
It finally was knocked into me that I would be alone for the rest of my days because even if I found Jakkin he would soon settle down somewhere with a wife and raise a bunch of children as reckless yet nervous as him. Maybe I really should adopt but then they would probably go ?trying to find themselves? and I wouldn?t stop them. Maybe I need a pet. I realized the night was doing weird things to my mind and I tuned back in to see Zechs coming over and sitting on my bed. I waited for him to speak because I wasn?t catching his mind signals if he was trying to send them to me.
Finally he spoke in a quiet whisper. It seemed as though by saying what was bothering him aloud something he wouldn?t like would actually happen. I know the feeling because I had felt similar before. Take for example when I was questioning the old man about Jakkin, I could barely make a sound much less talk above a whisper. It had caused the old man some grief and he became irritated because he couldn?t hear me.
?Relena?I haven?t been exactly honest with you. No. No, no. Don?t say anything. Let me get this out.? He held up his hand when I opened my mouth to object.
He continued in a stronger voice when he was sure I wouldn?t interrupt.
?Four years ago I received word that he had escaped slavery.? I gasped. Heero had not been a slave for four years! Why had I not been told!?!
Zechs continued as if he didn?t notice me which I was sure he did because his face had a tortured look to it.
?Once I received word of it I went to see for myself and it was indeed true. Heero had escaped his locked and guarded room. I am sure you don?t know this or want to know this but Heero was a Fighter; he was trained to fight in the slave arena for entertainment of the rich. I asked around for details and received some disturbing answers.? he looked at my petrified face and grimaced. Here I thought he worked in the minds or labor work in the fields but he didn?t, he was a slave for entertainment. I sure hope he wasn?t forced to fight nude like so many noble wives make them do when their husbands are gone. Oh, Heero, I thought in despair.
?It turns out that when Heero was bought, he asked for that particular job. He never explained what he meant to his trainers but to the other slaves around him he said that he had someone to repay. He trained hard, harder than anybody there and soon became undefeatable in the arena. He faked loyalty to his patron and gradually gained the trust of the guards by punishing and rebuking troublemakers like it was his right to do so and he was ruthless too. He showed no mercy and if I was to give likeness to what he did I would have to say his attitude was not unlike his attitude towards invaders. That is the most accurate description of what I heard that you could understand. I mean you have seen for yourself how uncaring he can be.? He looked at me for comprehension of his words. I did understand him and I had witnessed Heero in action.
It was a month before Heero actually confessed he had deep feelings for me and I was down in the bay, swimming and relaxing under the sun. I fell asleep sometime in the afternoon and that was when the raiders came. Dressed in rags, with rusted weapons, and smelling obscene, they rushed onto the beach, stumbling over each other in their haste and I was in there way. The Defenders, town citizens fighting to protect their homes, were watching and waiting to attack up above me on top of the cliff with arrows. No one came to rescue me, in fact I don?t think anyone actually knew I was down there because I had purposefully ran away for the day.
I awoke to sounds of harsh breathing and the muffled sounds of tramping feet through the sand. I, at first, thought someone was on the beach with me and was running even though why a whole herd of people decided to take a walk on the beach at the same time was beyond me. To make a medium story shorter I woke up and smelled a foul stench and sat up to see where it was coming from. Obviously natural instinct demanded I scream and run for my life so I did just that. I don?t really know why, when your life is in danger you make as much noise as you can even if there was a chance to escape quietly. Anyway Heero was up on the cliffs as well and he heard someone screaming; when he realized it was me he charged down with a group of people anxious for a fight and tried to cut his way to me. I didn?t know this so I kept on running but eventually tripped and fell flat on my face with the air knocked out of my lungs.
Heero had chosen that moment to look over and he saw me on the ground surrounded by a group of greasy, unclean raiders. To say the least he went berserk. He killed everything in his path and cut up quite a few fellow Defenders and when he reached me he cut a whole person in half with one stroke at the waist. The others he stabbed or gutted until you couldn?t tell what were entrails and what was skin. It was disgusting and I had seen the whole thing. He stood over me covered in blood and most of it not his. His sword was at his side dripping with blood and tissue. He looked ferocious and scary. I avoided him for two weeks after that for fear but eventually Heero soothed my fears and told me his side of the story. I was still a bit wary of him for a couple months after though. He said that when he realized who was screaming he deliberately disobeyed orders and ran down to rescue me. He also explained that when he saw me on the ground that moment was one of the scariest moments in his life because he thought he had lost me. It was then he realized he loved me or so he says when he actually told me. I personally think it was when I ignored him for two whole weeks and he couldn?t stand it
I sighed a bit.
Maybe there was something wrong with me because I have been really losing touch with the world lately. From what I hear that is not a good thing. I can just see myself now in the middle of a sword dance and all of a sudden I start thinking about food. I would be chopped down to pieces. I shook my head. I think I am beginning to understand why I hate mornings, you can never think straight so the mornings seem miserable.
Back with Zechs I noticed he was waving a hand in front of my face. I scowled at him. I had not been out of it that long, I thought with some ignition. I beckoned for Zechs to continue with some annoyance. He gave me a warning look that I recognized from my childhood. It basically meant that he was feeling very fragile and could blow at a seconds notice. Damn mood swings.
?As I was saying he was ruthless to trouble makers, but I found out an interesting detail. He only punished slaves in the eyes of the people it mattered too. For example his Lord and Lady. I also found out that he frequently ?punished? four troublemakers but when away from watching eyes he was friends with them. I even heard he tried to heal one of them but you know as well as I his talent is making and wielding metal so it didn?t work out so well. I was only able to get vague details of what they looked like but they were distinguishing features. One of the men he socialed with was pure bred Northerner, another had black hair and black eyes but he was a bit on the short side as far as slaves go.? His eyes took on a mirth-like twinkle.
?Sounds like a Traders? victim doesn?t it? He actually came from a distant land, far to the East and was very expensive for the Lord and Lady of the manor. The two left both have brown hair but one of them has a long braid down his back which is unusual so he shouldn?t be too hard to pick out in a crowd.? A thoughtful look came over my brother?s face.
?I wonder why he keeps his hair long. Wouldn?t that be uncomfortable? I would think so.?
Here was my brother, talking about a person with long hair as if it was some kind of mystery yet he had long hair too. I found amusement in the irony. I was a bit worried about that last description though. Why did it sound so familiar? I could swear I have seen someone like that recently. But where?
?The other just has short hair with unusually long bangs from what my informant had said. So all in al you shouldn?t have any trouble avoiding them. The only way I can think of you stumbling into them was if it was in the early hours of the morning and you slammed into one of them on your way back from the pot room (bathroom).? My brother was rambling, I noticed. My eyes narrowed. He was holding something back that he would rather not tell me. When he took a breath I found my chance.
?Why are you telling me this now? I mean you should have told me the last time I visited because if I did the math right he was out for a year before I came back. So if you are worried about me running into him I highly doubt it will happen because I have spent the past four years Heero-free.? I said harshly. My brother winced at the coldness in my voice. I, myself, inwardly cringed but I couldn?t let it go. Why was he telling me now of all times? Especially in the morning!
?I know I should have told you but I didn?t think. I just wanted you not to worry because you were still very distraught over him.? my brother answered me. I gave him a blank look. He sighed and finally came out with what was bothering him.
?His owners had no clue how he did it but Heero escaped without opening the door, knocking out the guard, or being seen outside the mansion?s gates. That was amazing but what?s even more amazing is he also spirited four other men out with him, all of the ones I told you about and Relena, these are no ordinary men. They had been training for five years and some even longer than that with swords and weights. These men were big, muscular, clumsy, and easy to see yet there was no trace of them during the night or when they discovered they were missing in the morning. That in itself suggests they are powerful and dangerous.?
?So??
?After he made it out people went searching for them and found all of them went their separate ways but Heero went straight to the North.?
?So?? I responded again.
?He returned to the South close to nine months ago. He is now here in town with those four men and all of them have very well made swords and have been trained to use them. We can?t do anything about it too.?
?So?Wait! What did you say?? I couldn?t believe it. It couldn?t be true!
?I said Heero is in town with the exact same men who disappeared with him, and we can?t do anything about it because they are considered free men now.? My brother answered looking away.
?They have been asking about a blonde haired half-blood with the bright, clear blue eyes of the Northerners. The description also mentions a ring on her smallest, left finger.?
We both then glanced at my left hand as I held it up. There it was. A simple silver band ring studded with a clear blue stone, the color of my eyes Heero had said when he slid it onto my finger. I had never been able to bring myself to slip it off when I left so to this day it was still there. Over time I had forgotten about it and didn?t even notice it when I rubbed my eyes. Now that is saying a lot. I wonder if Heero did anything to it. He could have if I knew him well enough.
Then Zechs? words sunk in.
I couldn?t believe it! I didn?t want to believe it. After seven years Heero was back in town as if nothing had gone wrong during those years. I didn?t want to see him again! What would I say? What would he do? I have to leave before he finds out I?m here but where to go.
It doesn?t matter Relena just get your butt out of town!!!!!!!!!
I pushed Zechs off the mattress and flung myself onto the cold floor. Not bothering to even dress I traveled around the room in a frenzy of activity. I was ready to go in five minutes flat. I had dressed myself in dark clothes and in front of my brother much to his embarrassment but I didn?t care. I could not put up with my past knocking on my doorstep once again. I had to leave.
Now!
On my way out the bedroom door I glanced back to see Zechs standing by my bed and watching me. He understood what I had to do and he was fine with it, I could tell, but he didn?t know when he would see me next. This reminded me.
?Zechs, have any Traders? carts past by or stop near town in the past couple of days?? I asked. I had to remember I could not let Jakkin down. I had to leave and find him too.
?A whole caravan of them stopped yesterday, by the oasis. The townspeople told me that they wanted rope and food whether it is fresh or stale. They moved on yesterday morning heading down to the Hook.? He looked puzzled about why I was asking this and I wasn?t going to give him any answers. I stored the information in my head and briefly wondered how he knew that as well as what Heero had been doing, but I was smart enough not to ask. He obviously had informants but they were a secretive group and if I was to ask him it would put him in an uncomfortable position of lying to me, refusing me, or telling their identities. I would never intentionally do that to my brother.
Once again I turned to the door but turned back again. I smiled slightly, silently giving him a message that I would take care of myself. He still looked a bit unnerved so aloud I told him Good bye for now and I would see him on the next visit. I also teasingly told him I would try to remember birthdays but it was a bit hard for me with work and stuff. He his expression switched to a relieved one and he slightly inclined his head. Zechs didn?t believe in good-byes but I did. I didn?t know when I would next see him so I stood there for a few minutes.
?Give Noin and the girls my apologies and best wishes.?
Again with the nod. I sighed and turned away.
It was a hasty ride through town, full of dangers. My horse could have hit somebody or threw a shoe and that would have brought unwanted attention. I also could have been stopped by soldiers standing in as guards but many of them thought I was some kind of demon apparition so the let me pass on by while they screamed in terror. I snorted. Zechs had better toughen up his soldiers because if they were afraid of death they obviously weren?t trained that well. I remembered then that Barn, the trainer, had retired some years back. The new one must still be testing the ropes.
The desert night air was cool. I loved riding at night in the desert. The cool wind whipped though my hair as if it was a lover?s caress. The stars shone above me like precious stones, burning with a light that will never fade. It was quiet on the sands. Just me and my sand horse, Snow (she?s white). We ran along together feeling the freedom of the night with the only sounds of her foot falls and her harsh breathing. It was a wonderful night to make my escape from Peacecraft as well as my troubles. I didn?t think of any thing during the ride. Nothing at all. Maybe it was shock, stress, or the lack of sleep but it was a peaceful time for me and I was very grateful for it.
During the night, I periodically walked Snow. I didn?t want her becoming too tired so if we had to run for our lives she would be energized. It was a good thing I did too because we ran into a bit of trouble at dawn.
Over the sand dunes came men on horses at full speed, heading straight for us. All of them had their arms raised and the favored weapon of the sand?s clans, the curved sword. The rising sunlight glinted off their swords and for a moment blinding me which I am sure was their intention. Down they came, about twenty or so charging towards me and yelling out war cries. I knew I couldn?t fight twenty armed men. Maybe five but not twenty so I kicked my horses sides in hopes she would be able to out run them.
We ran for a long time but they gradually caught up. I knew it wasn?t Snow?s fault. Obviously these men rode on fresh horse and Snow had been running all night. As they neared I readied my self for battle. I didn?t stop to think what they wanted me for because a red haze was already settling over me. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins as well as frustration and anger at the past. Why couldn?t the past stay in the past!?!
I reined in my horse and pivoted her around. Nudging her sides I aimed for the outsider of the group, hoping to slice or knock him from his horse. They realized what I was doing but they weren?t able to turn fast enough to stop me. My sword rang from its scabbard, wanting a worthy fight and I planned on giving it to her, my beloved sword Kira. She was a beautiful sword with a blue gemstone in the hilt and silver filigree wrapped around it in a design and a long, straight double-edged blade. She would have looked for a normal sword if it wasn?t for ancient, glowing runes running along the blade. She had been made for me with the completion of my training in the North, she had a piece of my soul in her and she was privy to all my emotions, and right now I was feeling a lust unlike any other. I was feeling a lust for blood and vengeance for something I could not even explain, and these men were going to satisfy it.
Reaching the man on the outside of the group, I came up to him until I was right in front of him before my sword whipped out. He ran right into the blade before he could parry it and going in opposite directions and at such a tremendous speed his body was cleaved in half. Pivoting my horse I charged again to the outside not realizing that the group had compacted and could move easier. I was riding up, charging my worn horse to reach my enemy when all of a sudden my horse stumbled and fell to the ground, dead with me on her back. Someone had shot an arrow into her throat. I didn?t care at the time but I would no doubt in the future if I survived. Rising to my feet I brought my sword out in front of me, letting all of them glimpse what they were facing. None of them faltered in step or pulled on their horses? reins. They came at me charging but didn?t? run me over or slice me up like a piece of meat like I expected them to. Instead they surrounded me. Some of them had been carrying long spears and now they were pointing them at me.
I circled, trying to watch all of them at once, looking and testing for weaknesses. Finally I noticed a young man up in a saddle that looked like he wanted to personally fight. I took the weakness and used it to my best advantage. I jumped in front of his horse and cut her throat in a swift, painless motion before he even had time to react. His horse?s legs buckled and fell to the ground with a tremor and a wave of freed sand but before it landed he gracefully jumped out of his seat. When he landed, though, I stabbed him in the stomach and pushed him to the ground. It left an opening in the circle and I tried to take it but before I could even take a step forward something hard smacked my head. Pain exploded at the back of my head and instantly I felt my hearing fade and my vision blacked out but before I did I saw my clothes were darkened with something.
Blood and then darkness.
I came to feeling my arms prickle and my joints protesting at my uncomfortable position. Pain was pounding through my head and all I could do about it was nothing. I always prided myself to be quick and when I woke up my pride was proven. Despite the pain and nauseous feeling I instantly remembered what had happened over the past week in rich detail. I groaned in despair. My horse was killed in my rashness and two people were dead because of me. Oh Gods what have I done. Even though I was the SwordQueen I had never intentionally harmed or killed somebody. Well at least I wouldn?t be able to run into Heero now, but what did they want with me? I hadn?t done anything offensive to the sand?s tribes, I don?t think. Well now I had but I was a little delusional then.
Even though I have danced with many fighters I never intentionally killed anyone. I fought glorious dances but when it came time for the kill I refused to do it. It was my conscience that stopped me. When I looked at the other dancer?s face, I can?t kill him because I don?t want to take another life?s future away from them. I will not take their lives in my own hhands to kill them! I take it and put it back in their own hands, giving them the choices of training to become stronger so that they will never have to be in that position again, or retiring from the game of dancing. It was their choice. I always left it up to them and most of the time they chose the right choice. But the question is, what is the right choice? I believe it all depends on the fighter?s life. Most of the time the men (I am the only woman sword dancer here in the South) realize it and respect me for it. Noble?s wonder why so many dancers respect a woman who will not kill when she is being paid to do it but then again they never did and I highly doubt they will.
There is another reason too, why I don?t kill them in a dance. When I look at fellow dancers? frightened yet calm faces, I see my lover in their eyes taunting me to kill my victim; to destroy all life within his body. Just as I had no doubt done to him. It pains me and I refuse the offer because I want to prove to myself that I was different then what I saw myself as. It seems I will always be haunted by my past more so now then ever before. I still couldn?t believe Heero was alive!
Blinding light shone on my face and I realized how dark it was. I quickly looked around me noting my position and surroundings.
I was on the wooden floor of what looked like the inside of a covered wagon. It was stifling hot and there was a slight musty odor but I think it came from the many old blankets and rugs in the corner. My captors must have cleared out one of their storage wagons to haul me around. Wasn?t that polite?
The light was coming from what I assumed was the back of the tent. A figure stood there watching me with wary eyes I am sure but I couldn?t see him that well because the sun was shadowing his face. He said something in a weird language, something that I didn?t recognize. It was funny, almost like a soft whirling sound, rising octaves and lowering to accent syllables. I didn?t understand it at all which left me slightly confused. All of the Sand?s tribe?s? language had common roots if you just learned one language you could roughly exchange a few words in all others and I did know all of the Tribes tongue. Not this one it would seem.
Were they immigrants from another country? Were they nomadic by habit or had no where else to go? Who were they?
When the man finished his short speech he waited, obviously waiting for an answer. He didn?t get one because I ha no clue what he was trying to get across. We waited each other out, waiting for the other to reveal all. Finally he grew impatient and yelled something in his language. Instantly he stepped back from my view and two different figures appeared, each of them had hulking muscles that bulged with the slightest movement. Their hands reached and I tried to squirm away but my hands, knees, and feet were bound with a tough rope.
Hands contracted around my legs, sliding me across the wooden floor and into the blinding sun light. Can you say splinters?
Quickly I judged the suns position and was a bit shocked to realize the time. Initially I thought it was in the afternoon because of the brightness but it was actually close to sun down. In one more hour, the sky will be painted an orange and pink color as the sun slowly descends down below the Earth. I had been unconscious for a whole day! This drastically set back my plan.
Before I could follow the escape train of thought I was jerked to my feet and thrown over a huge man?s shoulder. By the Gods he was huge!! He must have stood over seven feet tall and look at those muscles! They could be a play ball for a child and that was just his shoulder!
I was unable to allow my wonder grow as I was jerked off the man?s shoulder and thrown painfully to the ground. My elbow jarred against the ground and my legs were twisted painfully up against me. I froze, waiting for some kind of pain to follow my tumble to the ground but nothing happened. Hesitantly I shifted about making myself more comfortable. I slowly raised my eyes and sucked in my breath so fast I choked. Before me stood people dressed in brightly colored robes and dresses. Each person was dressed as if a rainbow had painted them herself. They were magnificent in color and no doubt texture; By the Gods if a regular cloth and dress maker could make clothing and dye it like that they would have every noble from the South and North begging for their services.
But that wasn?t really the reason why I gasped. Their faces were tattooed with luminous blue ink. Their faces and men?s foreheads had designs tattooed into their skin and these weren?t any ordinary tattoos. These were the ancient designs of the North. The same inscriptions could be found on Kira, my beloved sword. I realized who these people were but I didn?t want to believe it. Their ancestors were from the North, people who at the time didn?t like the way things were being changed in their society. They left their country, moved to the South and were never seen or heard of again. The problem was that these people were the country?s finest dancers, warriors, and inscriptors. When they left the country was drastically weakened and invaders came and took over the southern half of the North?s land, thus forming the countries Sunnsand and Coldsnow. That was two centuries ago and if their descendants were still alive and thriving by the looks of it then it is safe to day that these people were beyond incredible.
Guards surrounded me but left me an opening so I could watch what was going on. It looked like the whole camp turned out to see me. I bet they have never seen a half-breed Southerner because if I have never seen them they must live a reclusive life.
They had tanned skins but not as dark as the true Sunnsand countryman. Their hair was lighter as well, almost like mine. In fact, I could have passed myself off as one of them if I wanted. I thought that that thought was a little scary while looking at their blue-tattooed faces. I shuddered lightly. I could deal with pain but if I was correct on my history the only way you could receive them was if you passed a hard test. The adult test consisted of traveling far distances and defeating a great foe; they left without food, water, or weapons. Doesn?t sound that pleasant to me and then there was the issue of actually receiving the tattoo through the use of a hot needle and very hot ink. Sounds painful to me!
I was lost in my wonderings for about a half an hour if I judged the time right. I kneeled there before all of the camp?s inhabitants, thinking and shifting around to find a more comfortable position. Many men would think this was disgraceful but I didn?t. You learned to kneel and keep silent for hours on end in the Northern Dancers (the school I learned sword dancing from. They are noted for precision, swiftness, and skill and are always the winner in a dance with a Southerner.). I could tell this was a test and waited for whatever was to come.
Finally, the crowd parted revealing a middle-age man with a sword, my sword, at his waist. I could practically feel power radiating off of him as well as maliciousness. This man had a cruel streak I could tell. In war he would have kept no prisoners and probably wouldn?t care for his men?s lives. He probably hurts women in bed too but they probably are too afraid to tell on him.
I think I am looking at their leader.
He smiled cruelly at me and called out to the assembly behind him. I again didn?t understand him because he was no doubt the man from earlier, but the crowd shifted on their feet. Some women sent hateful looks towards me while others looked as me as if I was a disgusting bug not worth their time. I must have killed one of their husbands but a man wasn?t allowed to have that many wives was he? By the Gods, most of the female population looked like they wanted to murder me; the only ones who didn?t were the wise, old women. The men too were watching me but they didn?t look hateful, only thoughtful. Some were watching the speaker amusedly.
I realized then what was going on. I was standing trial for the men I killed. The Speaker must be telling some outrageous story to try to condemn me and looking to the women for support because the men knew what had actually happened. He was charming the women with his words, painting a scene for them with the two I killed to try to save my life as the fallen heroes. Pathetic. It was obvious that the women held some sway over my sentence and he was trying to seduce them into to giving me death. I scoffed at him inwardly but held still. I did not need to anger them with my doings, though spitting on his sandaled feet was looking very intriguing.
Finally he ended his moving speech with a yell and the women shouted back, asking for my death it seems. I prayed to the gods to stop them. I didn?t want to die yet! It wasn?t time!
I felt panicky and hot. They were probably deciding my way of death right now I thought as I watched them argue with each other, one women would shout then another one would and so on and so forth.
We were in a desert I knew but I could have sworn I felt a chilling blast for a brief moment. The wind held the scent of ice and coldness, so out of place in the desert. I must be having flashbacks to happier times I thought, but that wasn?t it.
A man toddled into view on my right and I turned to look at him. He was short and old. He leaned heavily on his wooden staff carved with the ancient symbols. His hair was white and had receded to the back of his head but his forehead and scalp was covered in blue tattoos that gave off a strong blue light. It was obvious he held the great respect of his people because as soon as he appeared everyone kneeled, including the Speaker, though somewhat reluctantly. He must be their tribe Inscriptor, the holy man who drew the tattoos of power.
He spoke in a quick decisive voice and soon everyone moved to lean on their heels with their heads bowed. I was the only one openly staring at him and he was watching me too.
He turned his attention to his people and spoke in a reprimanding tone. There was a cry of outrage form the speaker who threw up his head and spat out a few sentences. These words bothered the crowd because people shifted on their knees and either shook their heads or nodded them. The Inscriptor leaned on his staff more and adopted a thoughtful look. He knew he couldn?t save me from any punishment but he was trying to judge his peoples reactions and justice.
Finally he looked to me and spoke in halting Southerner.
?I not save you from punishment. People agree to whipping. Fifteen strokes per death. They won?t agree lower.? he watched me for comprehension. I gave him a stiff nod to show I did. Quickly he barked out orders to the bulky men surrounding me. Two of them grabbed my arms and lifted me up, completely supporting my weight. The crowd rose too and moved hastily away towards the center of the camp. I guess that is where I will be ?punished?. The men on both sides frog-marched me around the camp and into a tent, and that is where an old women tore the clothes from my back to spread a cool gel on my skin. It smelled herby, almost gaggingly so. I recognized it as a mixture that would help efficiently heal the skin and not leave big, visible scars. At least some felt that they should give me this one small mercy
I was being prepared.
I went through that time in a daze, driving my awareness of the world deeper into myself so I wouldn?t fell the pain as much. I did this often before a fight and it helped me see logically and not let instinct drive me. Hopefully it would work here. I barely felt it when they dragged me out of the Healer?s tent and into the center of the camp. I didn?t really feel the rope scrape against my skin as they bound me to a post. I didn?t smell the sweat and the stink of excitement at all.
But I did feel the first lash. The pain whipped across me, instantly bringing me out of my reverie and jerking against me bonds. I bit my lip so hard it bled but I told myself not to scream; not to give them the satisfaction of seeing me in pain. Each lash sent painful fire into my body but I held through it all. I don?t know how much time passed because halfway in between the pain became unbearable and I almost fainted from it, but then the whippings stopped coming. I heard someone walking behind me and some quick talking. Then the lashes fell again in faster and more furious strokes. It felt like the person whipping me changed with someone. Maybe the other?s arm was tired. I know my back was. I kept telling myself not to give into the pain and the physical pain was better then emotional.
Even so I made a note in my mind between strokes to never kill again.
Finally the strokes stopped when I was beyond the midway point to unconsciousness. My bonds were slashed open, jerking me, and causing the rope to scrap against my skin. I made myself hold my head up to show the people I wasn?t weak, I did have some strength in me. I couldn?t walk though. Some of the lashes had come down on the back of my thighs and calves rendering me unable to walk because of the pain.
When I looked toward the tribe all of them looked mollified except the more aggressive females. They still gave me murderous looks and I glared right back at them. I had gone through my punishment at their mercy. What more did they want from me? I could answer that without even thinking about it. They wanted my death and even more so when I had the audacity to glare at them as if I had a right. I personally thought I did so I didn?t care about it too much but I really should have. Some of those women probably had the nerve to attack me in my sleep.
I was dragged back into the Healer?s tent and laid on the dirt ground stomach-down, but before I was put in that position the old woman gave me something bittersweet to drink. It was a sedative and normally I wouldn?t fall asleep with such a little dosage but my body was weakened from my whipping and I instantly passed out again.
The thing that brought me out of my painful yet sedative sleep was the smell of food and my stomach clenching to the point I felt nauseous. My eyes opened slowly, ready to snap shut if needed to. My vision was blurry at first but after a few seconds of waiting it cleared.
Before my face was an earthenware plate with some greens and a sandwich on it. I couldn?t tell what the greens were or the sandwich but they smelled wonderful. I tried to bring my hands around to pick up the food but when I felt the tight rope I realized I was bound with my hands behind my back again. My stomach growled loudly and instantly there was movement behind the food.
A person had been leaning up against the short wagon wall sleeping. So focused on the food, I didn?t notice anyone else in the tiny wagon which was saying a lot. I mean there was about five feet of room width wise and eight feet in length; I should have noticed him.
It was the old man who had vetoed my death in front of the people. The Inscriptor.
His pure white hair on his head his full white beard glowed in the dim light of the wagon. I could see now up close that he was blind; his eyes were white with no pupils. His clothing was of the finest material, better even than the people?s. They were blue in color and had ancient symbols embroidered on in to them, declaring him the tribe?s Inscriptor.
I could sort of understand why he helped me earlier; his tribe was being swayed over to the Speaker?s way of thinking which included a lot of death and corruption. His tribe was facing the same troubles that his ancestors had run from coming from within themselves. If the Speaker continued on his path he would most likely break away from the tribe with many of the women and set out to conquer power, giving all of the Sand?s tribes a bad reputation. The Inscriptor didn?t want that and tried to thwart many of the Speaker?s schemes and tried to cast him in a bad shadow.
My hatred for the Speaker grew. Maybe I should start calling him the Antagonist? No that is too much of a mouth full. Which led me back to my original train of thought.
Why was he here? In the same cart as me. Watching over me and giving me food.
He must have sensed and mistook my confusion for fear. He lifted a feeble arm and reached over. I instantly tensed, ready for any action that I could try to defend myself against. It didn?t come. Instead he reached over and tapped my shoulder blade and gave me a word.
?Archa?
At first the meaning of his word eluded me but I realized then that I couldn?t feel my back, butt, and the back part of my thighs. Archa was a desert weed that was harmless when alive and leafing but when it died the leaves shriveled and could be plunked. It was then ground up into a powder that would numb anything that it came in touch with because it entered through the skin. It was very powerful obviously because I couldn?t feel the formerly mentioned regions at all, and I should have with the whipping I had received.
It was an unsettling feeling; knowing that your back was there but you couldn?t feel anything it was touching. My brain wasn?t receiving the signals that my back was actually there and it was making me feel a bit cagey. A childish thought came to mind that I always wanted to test. Quickly, before the old man could stop me I rolled onto my back.
Now that feeling was really unnerving.
I felt as though I didn?t have any support under me like I was floating above the world on my back relaxing. Only there is so much relaxing you can do when you hands, feet, and knees were bound. I felt a tug on my shoulder and realized the old man had reached across my body and was frantically trying to pull me back onto my side. I remembered my wounds and reluctantly turned onto my side, facing him while he checked my wounds. His hand came back bloody. I think he swore softly then but I had no clue. He could have been calling my blood beautiful and I still wouldn?t have known or been creeped out.
He stared grimly in the direction of the food as if he was trying to come to a painful decision. It was then that he reached behind him and drew out a skin full of some liquid. He made a motion of opening my mouth and I did it gratefully yet naively because my throat was parched. The liquid that filled my mouth was bitter and made me feel as though a thousand horses had just stampeded across my head. I instantly tried to gag and spit it up but he held my mouth close firmly and ignored my squirming. It eventually came to the point were he had to place his elbow on my neck so it would cut off my wind pipe when I moved. Slowly and resentfully I swallowed it and stared at him with something not unlike contempt. I still couldn?t hate a man who had saved my life.
My vision blacked out while staring into those milky white eyes.
I learned during the days I spent recovering and healing that those men that had attacked me were mercenaries with a few of the tribe?s young men (the young men had to serve five years of service outside of the tribe to be fully accepted as a man).it turns out that someone had been looking for a half-blood and would consider a debt paid if the tribe found the right one. I didn?t really understand all of the details but apparently a person had done a great deed for the tribe and they felt they needed to owe him something. He told them to look for a half-breed woman who was unusually tall.
When those young men saw me riding through the desert they realized that they could pay that debt to this stranger. They had rallied some of the mercenaries and rode as a band to capture me and you know the rest.
It also turned out that I was right on many other assumptions too. The women loved and adored the two young men I had killed; they frequently fought over whom were going to be the men?s wives and mistresses, even the married ones. That also explained why the men really didn?t care how bad my punishment was because it put the women?s attention back on them. I was also right about the Speaker who is called, Gilo. He was trying to change the tribe?s ways and take power. This bit was not said out right because he was the head chief man?s son and was due some respect, but the older women and men softly cursed his name when something went wrong.
What did surprise me was that one of the young men I had gutted was Gilo?s son. I figured out that Gilo must have had his when he was about sixteen and the mother died in childbirth (though many believe that after birth she was poisoned so he could raise his son as he saw fit too).
I also learned that the only reason the Inscriptor was helping me was because the stranger pacifically asked him to look after whoever they found and make sure she didn?t commit suicide. I snorted when I heard this. I had confidence in my ability to escape him when he came for me and waited each day for him to come. Though that isn?t to say I didn?t try to escape the tribe. I tried three times total to try and steal away during the night. Didn?t work out that well because they always caught me within an hour or two. After the third try I gave up and formed the plan to wait for my buyer.
Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that.
This guy had refused an outright payment from the tribe. He told them that as long as they captured me the debt would be considered paid and then when he came to claim me he would pay them for the trouble of keeping me alive and in healthy condition. I was kept alive and in a somewhat remotely healthy condition because people began to get annoyed with me after my second run and after my third I was mildly abused.
Half way through my stay with the tribe, I would feel periodic hot flashes that would leave me cold and weak. I felt myself becoming weaker everyday and frequently tried to tell the old man about it when he came to see me. It didn?t work out. I got the impression he was taking care of me to the barest minimum that he could without upsetting this stranger. I hoped dearly that my ?buyer? would hurry and receive medical attention when he realized I was sick and I planned on letting him know the moment we were far enough away from this tribe.
On the seventh day of my capture I was rudely awoken by a swift jabbing foot. I came to recognize the phrase of ?Get up? in their language but I am sure it was more colorful then that. Me, being my stubborn self, refused to uncurl from my protective ball. They didn?t like that. They swore loudly and I felt vices clamp onto my arms. Painfully I was jerked to my feet. The two men were dressed in what I recognized as their finest clothing with elaborate threading and colors, but looked like they were a child pretending to be mature. All three of us couldn?t fit across the wagon because of their bulging muscles so one was in front of me and one was behind me. The front one, dressed in a dark blue robe with a maroon sash/belt went out the back of the wagon. I was then pushed out. Painfully blinded for a moment because my eyes had become sensitive to the light in my weak state, I wondered what was going on and dared to hope that my ?buyer? had come. I could now escape into freedom.
When my vision did clear I noticed the whole tribe had turned out for this occasion dressed in all of their finery. Many of the women wore a dark blue color and had many of there gold jewels displayed on their necks, arms, hair, and ears. Those men wore the formal warrior dress with their words prettily polished and honed.
What was going on? Surely one stranger would not receive this much attention?
The women looked ready to throw themselves at a person standing to my left but I couldn?t see who he was because I was not allowed to lift or turn my head to see who it was. I had learned that the hard way.
The two men frog-marched me up to the Inscriptor were I was forcefully turned around before I could see who was standing next to him. my bonds were cut but while they were being cut I noticed many of the women now were looking at me hatefully one moment but then sliding their eyes past me to look at the man behind me lustfully. Could a man really be that handsome? Or were they just petty?
My wrists were released and absently I brought them around to rub the skin on them, trying to soothe the pain. My other bonds fell away but I still did not turn around. I felt I owed the old man a little appreciation and would act like a respectable slave they had trained.
Behind me I heard a voice rumble in the tribe?s tricky language. He even spoke this gibberish. By the Gods he must be a scholar of the Great City!
I wondered at the voice though. Where had I heard it before? It was someone I had known in the past but I think his language confused me a bit. I am sure I would be able to recognize it if he spoke the Sunnsand language.
The old man replied quickly but then stumbled. The voice rumbled again. Hesitantly the old man told him something and again my buyer made a statement.
The Inscriptor called out and not a few minutes later my bags were set in front of me. All but my beloved sword Kira.
?Kira.? I whispered in anger. Was that jerk Gilo allowed to keep her? I would not leave with out her, but it seems I didn?t have to because some of the more kind men who had grown fond of me over the week (another reason the women hated me) forced Gilo to the front of the crowd. One of the men, dressed in green meaning authority, was holding Kira and wincing. It had provided me endless amusement over the week when I remembered that Kira would reject any person to hold her or try to control her by sending them painful waves. I had laughed when Gilo came holding to me sword with it?s scabbard on and a thick blanket wrapped around, demanding me to explain why he couldn?t even touch the hilt without receiving pain. He didn?t know the reason why and I didn?t tell him.
The man thrust the sword into Gilo?s hand and ordered him to give it to my owner. I smirked a little then and mentally increased the amount of driving pain Gilo would receive. Instantaneously his face twisted into a mask of rage and brutal pain, destroying his handsome, mature looks. I laughed inwardly at him and his pride until I felt someone whack the back of my head. Someone knew what I was doing and was warning me to stop.
It couldn?t be the Inscriptor because he was blind wasn?t he?
Maybe it was my ?owner?. I still snorted at the word. No one would ever own me even after I died.
Gilo stiffly handed the sword past me and my Kira disappeared behind me in my buyer?s hand. Infuriatingly he said:
?Turn around and take your sword if you can.?
That comment angered me. It was a deep almost monotone voice but it had cruelty and amusement flecking it. It didn?t sound familiar then but I could have sworn that I had heard that voice somewhere.
I whirled around causing me to become dizzy for a moment but when I finally could tell if I was still standing it didn?t matter. My knees gave out before me and I could only gape at the man standing before me. My stomach rebelled, my head pounded as my vision and hearing faded. But before I did I took in his appearance.
He had certainly turned into a man, not a pinch of fat on his rippling body. Tanned, muscular legs with a lean waist a top them followed by a perfectly (and I mean perfectly!) formed stomach with a chiseled chest. He had a shirt on but I could see his muscle defined through it. His arms showed dense, lean muscle had formed giving him the muscles to wield a sword exceptionally.
All in all his body was a weapon. A deadly honed weapon, pent up with strength and energy, and he knew how to use it seemed judging by the sword hanging from his waist.
Before I blacked out again I looked into his face and found a cruel smirk on his lips with his eyes shining above them. He understood what he had done and so did I. He had found me and he was going to have his revenge.
His eyes showed me all. His suffering, determination, pride, and lust for vengeance all showed through.
His eyes always did show what he was thinking.
I always did love them.
He can?t be back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I can?t deal with this right now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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End Chapter
I know I left this at a cliff hanger but I felt this chapter would be entirely too long if I put Relena?s and Heero?s actual confrontation in it. So I apologize.
You can't do that! Its getting really good! oh please update,oh please oh please! 
