Chapter 6

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Food and Thanam,

Two of a whole,

You can survive without one,

But not the other.

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The dirt tasted funny. He realized this on the third faceful as his body was dragged along the ground. For some absolutely idiotic reason, his brain knew the difference in flavors between the earth of his home and this pitiful dung heap. Yet he could still not recall his own name. The fifth time he fell, the man leading him halted. Slowly, the man pulled out a thin reed from between the padding of his vest. Then he began to methodically chew on it. He stared at the boy, eyes going bloodshot and sweat dripping off his brow as the seconds passed.

Why? The boy was honestly curious. Did the reed provide some means of euphoric sensation, like drugs? Was it a boost to energy, or perhaps a means of clearing the mind? His answers were not to come, for after a minute the man spat out the refuse, glared at the boy, and continued his march across the town streets. Thankfully, this time he walked a bit slower.

Night had already fallen, and soft crystal torches began to flare at regular intervals among the buildings. Each was a dull yellow glow, casting its warmth in a defined circular area. A formation of odd-looking symbols, or runes, appeared to be wrapped up each pole. He couldn't recognize any of the writing but wasn’t too surprised by that.

As they passed from one lit circle to the next, the boy also began to take notice of other people in the village. At this late hour, most merchants had already packed up and closed shop for the night. The few who remained open were clearly opportunists hoping to catch the last few travelers making their way into the safety of the walls. The smells of freshly cooked food began to waft overhead.

How long had it been since he had tasted a good meal? His journey in the cage for several days had been severely uncomfortable. This was made more so by observing so many individuals enjoy amazing smelling meals around various campfires each night. He had been provided with a bowl of “mush” twice a day. “Gruel” might be a more apt description. Bland, but filling. He had accepted it gladly.

Now, his stomach started to rumble at the thought of food. No gruel this last day, and he doubted the man now leading him could care less whether he starved. It wasn’t too hard to understand his plot in life. He had been sold. He was a slave, or some variation thereof. At least the girl wasn’t here. She had seemed to be well-cared for, though why not both of them still didn’t make sense.

Was the answer hiding in his messed up memories? Before the clarity of his time in the cage, everything was hidden in the fog. There, but hard to find if you didn’t know what you were looking for. Maybe he had done something? Or been someone? Or maybe he had always been a slave, and some accident was now causing him to hallucinate violently. Maybe he should steal a reed and chew on it a while.

No. Never that. Drugs, or anything that clouded the mind further. He vowed then never to taste a drop. He needed to hold close to every memory.

The man took a quick left turn into an alley. The boy stumbled to catch up, the collar digging into the skin of his neck. They emerged a short time later into a campsite set against one of the outer walls. A number of covered wagons sat empty, but even more were filled with people. Made up of multiple ages and both sexes, there was quite the variety. Refuse, was the first word that came to mind. Most huddled against the edges of the cage, quite a few looking rather gaunt. If he had still had a belt, this would be the moment to take it up a notch.

The leather armored man shoved him roughly in the direction of one of the wagons. He didn’t fight, not right now. That would come later. Lord willing... it would come. He waited as the man opened the side of the cage, those lying near its edge skirting back. Then, the collar came off. The man stared at him, probably expecting him to bolt.

Nah. What was the point when some people obviously had magic and others didn’t? Besides, he was noticeably at a loss in this land. No ability to communicate, no idea how to survive in a town like this, and no idea where to go from here. If he ever wanted to get back to the little girl, he needed information. Well, understanding of what everyone said at the very least. So he obeyed without argument and hopped into the caged wagon.

As the bars slid into place, he did let out a sigh, however. Freedom had been brief. Well, freedom from being stuck in one place. He watched as the man stepped over to the group around a fire and began to discuss something loudly with them. Occasionally the man would point in his direction. Laughter ensued.

Sure, yak it up. The stupid boy has a dirty face. Well, dirt and… other less delightful things. Looking around his wagon, he realized he was probably the youngest one here, but only by a few years. No one would meet his gaze. Finding an empty spot along the edge, he lay down. Sleep came fitfully that night.

The morning rays of light brought a little warmth with them. It might be his imagination, but the sun seemed to feel more comforting. Like the hug of an old friend. Just one of those things that stuck out as different in his mind, gnawing at the edges of his memories.

Morning also brought breakfast in the form of what should only be referred to as slimy “slop”. Tasteless, thick, and gooey. He choked on the first mouthful. Most of the other slaves just ate with blank stares ahead, numbly spooning their portion away. Also handed out were a number of those thin reeds. A closer look revealed dark black spots covering its greenish surface and small fire-like veins pulsing slowly.

The rush caused by the wagon’s occupants in their desire to snap up a reed left the boy first surprised, then disappointed. Definitely a drug. Those individuals who had been so lethargic at breakfast were now animated and grinning, chewing quickly on reeds they held in clenched fingers. Was it his imagination, or did there seem to be a faint wisp of energy surrounding their bodies? He would have normally dismissed it immediately, but this world clearly had secrets and mysteries. And magic. Can’t forget that.

Active observation of the camp showed most individuals either sitting in a lotus form or performing some variety of exercise routine. And yes, almost every single person in the camp had a faint outline of barely visible energy surrounding them. What exactly was happening here?

His question remained unanswered as most of the guards seemed to wrap up their activities, and began the process of organizing the camp for transportation. Many of the slaves were utilized in this process, each one wearing a bronze collar somehow tied to its matching piece on a guard's wrist. He had originally thought the pieces were magnetic but now realized that couldn’t be true. Too many metallic items around that would probably interfere. How then?

Apparently having been brought in so recently allowed him a reprieve from work. Not that he particularly cared. At least work could be distracting. A few hours passed as he lounged against the cage bars, watching everything and everyone with veiled eyes. When the last bag and crate had been tied down, and two of those weird creatures had been harnessed to each wagon, all the guards and drivers gathered in a group. Some discussion passed for a minute, then they split off, a few heading to each wagon. Some of the guards rode individual creatures. Those seemed slightly faster than the ones pulling the wagons. More lean and less fur.

The lead wagon driver cracked a whip, and slowly but surely the entire group moved out of the city, taking a side gate evidently meant for this purpose. Settling back, the boy pondered over everything he had seen, his mind mulling over the seeming differences he could recall.