Ashrem's Lament

"Long week." Ashrem thought quietly.

 It had indeed been a long week. It had also been the longest he'd stayed in one place since the supposed death of Father Bron. The long run to Athkatla had started him down this road that had led to him standing in for the most base of pain givers.

 A slaver.

 Not just any slaver either. He had been Lieutenant in charge of a slaver garrison with three men working for him.  He had become shop keeper for a poor retched group of slaves. He had begun with 12 but one had been too far along to save. Ashrem vowed that he would never forget her. She was an elven woman of once incredible beauty who went by the name Mara. Her beauty was long past, the victim of many hours of merciless torture at the hands of the Slaver's guild. She had been too proud for them to allow her to survive. Her very existence has been to serve as a warning and she had been in incredible pain when Ashrem had arrived. Her awareness was dim, and she had begun a slow decline into madness.

 Despite his dire need to fit in as a slaver, Ashrem had a higher calling. He had gone to her side immediately in an attempt to save her. His three Sergeants, Garner, Boyd and Sloane had watched in mute fascination. Only Garner bent his knee to help. Boyd and Sloane had soon tired of Ashrem and Garner's tending and went on to other tasks. Through the night they used every means at Ashrem's disposal to ease her suffering but the wounds were too great. Too infected. Too deliberate. At sunrise of his second day as a slaver, Ashrem gave her the lethal mixture of digitalis and yew that would end her suffering. Digitalis to ease her into a deep sleep and yew to slow her heart until it stopped.

 He buried her on a hill overlooking the sea; all on his second day as a slaver.

 Boyd and Sloane had taken an immediate disliking to Ashrem. They both clearly resented the fact that Ashrem had been given command by the same green stripe who had taken their former Lieutenant into custody, and probably murdered him. They were insignificant; petty, minor players who looked only to increase their personal wealth and standing. They scraped and bowed and offered him every nicety they could push past their rotted teeth. For Ashrem, the slaves, his charges, were always at the forefront of his mind.

 In retrospect, they were the one thing he couldn't ignore. Their suffering was too great. He was foolish to have tried to stay. He could have never maintained the necessary cover to remain. It took him five more days to be discovered.

 He was pretty sure that it was Boyd who contacted the guild. He was the only one intelligent enough. The ones who'd come for him didn't even bother to hide their presence. They simply crowded in to his small office. Two blue stripe slavers and a dozen yellows. Quite flattering really. Their mistake was coming at him one at a time.

 The first two thought they would just grab him. They had been mislead. Ashrem stood relaxed until they had his arms. Using them for an anchor, he leapt into the air and a kick to each shattered their knees. Outer twists broke their grasps and an elbow to the head for one and a knifehand to the temple for the other rushed them both to unconciousness. The other 12 stood by dumbfounded as Ashrem skip kicked into a nearby yellow stripes thigh. The normally painful blow became devastating when applied to a precise pressure point on the leg. The man staggered backwards and fell unconscious even as Ashrem used his thigh as a springboard to deliver a roundhouse kick to the temple of his fourth attacker who dropped spitting teeth from a shattered jaw.

 A nearby yellow stripe fired a crossbow as his companion threw a dagger. Ashrem backfisted  the dagger to deflect its course while he side stepped the arrow. Before the dagger could hit the ground, he kicked it across the room to embed itself in the chest of an attacker who fell before he could fire his now ready crossbow. Disregarding the danger of his companions and their bows, a sixth attacker reached to engulf Ashrem in a bear hug. He was greeted with boxed ears and an elbow to his neck before he hit the ground.

 The room was getting tight and Ashrem was trying to make the window. He sprung onto and up from a chair, over the head of a seventh attacker, rendering him senseless with a kick to the back of his neck before crashing through the window. As he hit the ground and staggered in the broken glass, Ashrem saw a blue stripe slaver throw something at him. Instinctively, he moved to deflect it when it exploded into thousands of tiny bands and wrapped tightly around him. Within seconds he was bound fast. A prisoner of the slaver's guild.

 Which brought him to the present. He had just awakened chained in the hold of a seagoing vessel. Obviously in route. A quick test of his bands assured him that he could slip them given time. He only had to wait for the right moment. Until then, maybe he would just sit still and see where he was going.....