Chapter 10

~

Watchful eyes see what they wish to see.

Show them sights they can’t believe,

And they’ll blame their own vision.

~

It was the death of the first slave that shook Jorin out of his monotony. To this point, he had remained optimistic about his future. His new lot in life hadn’t seemed so awful, nasty to be sure, but not horrible.

He would make do.

He would survive.

He would last as long as necessary. Then he would escape.

These thoughts could not be questioned.

Then came the screams of a dying man cut short, waking him up in the dead of night. Jorin wouldn’t learn till later the actual cause.

It was a wounded farmhand. That was it.

Jorin knew such an act was inherently vile. Yet no other stable hand seemed to care. The head overseer continued to talk in a pleasant voice to those working beneath him, and most responded in kind.

Why?

Was life so cheap in this world, that none truly cared for it? Was there some other aspect to this story he could not understand, due to his inability to speak the same language?

Or was it just the way this world worked?

He began to keep his head down. If before he had been unresponsive, now he was downright elusive. He did his job as required, but not a bit more. He watched other slaves receive rewards for jobs well completed. Some outstanding beast trainers were even allowed a visit to the central manor of the plantation. Many never returned. Mainly the female ones.

The other dark-skinned boy continued to visit. Several times, but without any real pattern. He would just pop up out of existence and spend an evening regaling his audience of kamora, yemti, bison, and one very annoyed slave.

At least he never tried to stop Jorin from working. Sometimes he even helped. Without a doubt, he was an odd duck. But gradually his presence became normal, and so Jorin stopped worrying about him.

Instead, he began to explore the plantation. Jorin had a few options to choose from if ever he was caught outside the Livery Quarter. The first was to play innocent. Since it was well known he couldn’t understand the language, it gave him a little leeway if found somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. Still, considering how powerful the guards and even other slaves were, this could be a dangerous gamble. All it took was one guy annoyed at his trespassing.

Then no more Jorin.

His second and slightly safer option was to act as if he was supposed to be there. This led to him carrying around a sack of grain or a bucket of water. Both proved unwieldy and tiring. He quickly switched to a common spade or pitchfork. Utilizing the moments given most often at mealtimes, he would grab his food and retreat, leaving everyone to assume he was eating in the stables.

Instead, he ate on the go. Jorin traversed over half the nearby property without a problem. While acting as if he had been sent with a message, or simply plodding along at a moderate pace, he carefully began to map out the layout of this extensive operation.

Covering many acres of terrain, the central manor and surrounding buildings were all built on top of a clearly defined plateau, tucked into the base of a small mountain range. The farmlands themselves stretched from the mountains to the far forests, though Jorin only knew this due to the wagon trains traveling back and forth.

Green, flourishing, and lively.

Jorin watched, stunned, as fields of rice were harvested and replanted, only to repeat the process a week later. Large orchards hung low with fruit, lush vineyards covered wide swaths of the mountainside, and even the beasts seemed more bountiful. Massive herds of bison were kept in a series of rolling pastures, and keen-eyed shepherds watched lazily over flocks of roving sheep and goats.

It was interesting to note that while thousands of people lived on these farms, only a few hundred lived in or worked in the main plantation quarters. The manor was obviously staffed, but getting to close worried Jorin. Walking among the fields was one thing. Wandering within the boundaries of the manor would likely only end in suffering.

Collared slaves were the main workforce, backed by either peasants or uncollared slaves. Jorin couldn’t really tell the difference.

Then came the overseers and head taskmasters. He knew the guards had some sort of hierarchy, but he stayed very… very far away from any of them; and so could only guess as to their structure. Different sections of the plantation had different leaders, and he guessed that they would all report to The Master. Master Haarst, who he had only seen the once. He knew the name because every slave knew it. They were constantly mentioning him. Without question, he was a powerful individual.

On his fifth day of exploring, Jorin found himself walking near the bison herds. A sudden dip in the surrounding land had surprised him, and he was pleased to find a large copse of trees hiding a small meadow and watering hole. It was only a half-hour walk away from the stables and far from any busy areas.

A perfect for practicing.

Or trying to practice, considering the fact that he still hadn’t figured out the secret of the wisps of light.

Sitting his spade carefully against a nearby tree, Jorin paused for a moment while listening. Nothing except the buzz of insects and the quiet rumble of grazing beasts.

Satisfied, he folded his legs under himself and began to slowly breathe. There was undoubtedly an easier way to accomplish his goal. He could simply ask the stablemaster for help. Of course, without the ability to communicate his exact questions, such an undertaking was akin to spitting into the wind.

And it would most definitely backfire.

From the moment Jorin opened his eyes in this new world, every individual he had seen could breathe in these small wisps of energy. Regardless of age or sex, collared slave or free soldier. It seemed a natural thing. You woke up, you breathed in light for breakfast, you went about your day.

So why couldn’t he?

~~~~~~~

Ben watched the boy carefully.

The brothers had been on the trail for over a month now, much of that time spent hiding from their pursuers. It had been a close thing. They had been unfortunately led astray by two other stringhoppers, one a leopard-like creature of massive size. Natural predators could sometimes take on traits of the prey they killed, and it seemed as if this foreign creature had worked quickly to advance its core.

The second rift led to, oddly enough, a giraffe of all things. This creature had not fared near as well and was close to death when they happened upon him. Daniel had argued for extraction but capitulated when Ben had reminded him of the time constraints. Containment was the best temporary solution they could manage.

With the NCF squads hot on their trail, they decided to gamble on the last two markers. The Berthralli Forest had been the origin location of mid-sized causality rift, and the Kienaril Mountains another.

The forest had been closer.

Yet even here the trail had become confusing, as the rift marker split in two, heading in completely different directions.

Once again, they decided on the nearest target.

Thankfully, this country was extremely weak in power, with most people barely reaching the second stage of Mind Rank, the literal beginning of cultivation. It was likely walking through a nursery.

With mere hours to spare before their deadline, they had arrived at the holdings of a local landowner and farmer. He had quite the tidy operation, controlling much of the farmlands for thousands of acres among the Berthralli flatlands. Finding a single individual amidst so many workers could be difficult.

It wasn’t.

Within mere minutes of settling down on top of the nearest mountain peak, Daniel had pointed out the young boy. It was clear by the numerous looks sent his way that he hadn’t found any means to blend in. Other slaves kept away from the boy’s vicinity as if he were diseased, and the guards took turns pointedly not watching him try to sneak past their sectors. He wore his robes awkwardly, having to occasionally pull them back into place, and he walked with a confident gait through the highly dangerous bison pastures.

There were a few other people that stood out as well, especially a few of the landowner's guests, but nothing as obvious as the boy.

“You think they’re testing him?” Daniel peered over the ridge, eyes aglow with thanam.

Ben shook his head. “No. They’re ignoring him. He’s an oddity, but they’ve had time to grow accustomed to it. Look at the stablemaster. He’s using a similar technique that we are to watch the boy.”

Scoffing, Daniel shook his head. “Such a waste of power. And that’s coming from me! Look at the bleed effect on the edges. Poor man’s barely hanging onto his thanam.”

“Ignore him. Look, the boy just disappeared into that small valley. I’m not registering any other life forms near him. I say we go now.”

Ben paused, then continued. “I’ll start explaining things, while you prepare the second-mind and keep a lookout. Just... this time please wait for my signal?”

Daniel nodded, looking a bit chagrined. “Ya, sorry about that. We cut it pretty close last time. I’ll be ready.”

“Good.” Ben closed off the technique, allowing the flow of thanam to his eyes to slow in response. “Low range teleport, one-point two seconds out.”

With a swift hand, he drew an infused symbol into the earth and stepped back. A moment passed… and both brothers disappeared.