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Four youths walked along the open fields, their feet crushing the few stalks of grass that could be discerned among the dirt road. When a regular person thinks of four children in a plain, an image of careless playing and exuberant laughter comes to mind.
But these children were largely different.
Mostly because their worn clothes contained more dirt than fabric and their loose footwear barely held itself together as they walked, each step thinning the thick black soles. Grime gathered to mix with sweat on their faces, giving them the appearance of someone vastly older than they actually were. Each of the youths had short hair, even the one which had already started to slowly grow out into a young woman. The colour of their hair varied from place to place, mostly depending on which part of their head connected to the ground most often, as that was usually the case with young slaves.
The children sometimes looked around as they walked, occasional glances at the scenery followed by a steady deadpan gaze at the ground or the convoy in front of them. They dodged the animal droppings that littered the road, most coming from the similarly overworked animals in front of them. At times, children would ponder upon the differences between them and said animals. Both had collars around their necks, and all of them had a scorched mark somewhere on their body, reminding them of their fates. The difference was that, while the cattle's collars were nondescript worn out brown and usually had bells attached, the children's collar was elaborately engraved with various runic words of phrases that would periodically glow, the imbued magic seeping out into the air.
The children never turned around to see what or who was behind them, because they already knew. A single whip crack once any one of them made even an attempt at looking back reminded them of the horrors that they experienced and would most likely have to endure still. So they didn't dare look behind them and kept ambling forwards, to lands unknown.
Speaking was a worse offence still, neither of the children allowed to mutter a sound unless they were asked to, and even cries of pain were largely ignored, or worse yet, punished further. The only sounds that came to the youth's ears were made by the hooves and the rustic wheels as their owners strolled along the beaten path.
One of the children, a boy who appeared to be around nine years old, trudged along the road, lost in his thoughts, the only thing he actually still owned, and that was even up for debate if someone would have their way. His head of brown hair bobbed slightly as he made steady steps along the path, occasionally glancing at the scenery next to him. His mind was filled with worry and despair. He thought about what caused all of this to happened to him, dreaded whether he would receive a meal or a beating in the evening, but somehow found time to muse about the tales he had heard gathered near the fires of the camps. The stories told of adventure, great mages and courageous warriors fighting terrible monstrosities that prowled the wilderness. The epics told of great void-rifts in the open which would call upon great terrors to whatever town or city happened to be near it, as the adventurers were sent to defend those who could not fend for themselves. The world at times seemed so enigmatic and vast, but reality would soon set in and the usual worries would overthrow hopeless dreaming,
Because to Josh, adventure, warriors, and mages were as distant as the Sun above him. He only knew the world of beatings, sour food, endless treks across the roads, and the words of his owners spouting obscenities at every step of the way. He wondered if there was anything that he could do to change the endless cycle, but every day seemed as horrifying as the last.
His inner thoughts were disrupted as a resounding boom echoed in front of him and the convoys were instantly covered in the remains of one of the horses and possibly its rider, yellow mist splattering the road and the travellers on it. In the blink of an eye, the world around his spun as the people shouted and ordered everything around, and he could only discern one simple command. A glow on his collar and a dull pain crossed his head as simple words of 'Take cover' resounded through it. Josh moved, almost instinctively, along with his three compatriots, running to the grass that bordered the road, trying to push his feet to their limit.
He glanced back at the convoy, only now realising what had happened. They, or rather, it, was under attack. From whom or what, it mattered little. Josh' mind agreed that same applied to his inner debate of who would win. His orders were given, and all he could do is watch.
The carriages were either set in flames or annihilated completely, the husks of wood littering the scenery, as the group of people that Josh called his owners spread around, the guards holstering their weapons and shouting at each other and the air in turns. Little of that reached his ears, the constant drumming in his mind overpowering any sound from outside. Pain echoed in every bit of him as he clenched his fists and ground his teeth to try and will it away.
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A different group of people, glad in very different clothes to that of his owners, appeared on the field. Some of them wore heavily embroidered cloaks, others carried various weapons, some of which were completely new to Josh' young mind.
A cloaked man looked to chant something, as incoherent as every other sound, and an arc of lightning jolted towards a guard, knocking him backwards. 'It was magic!' was all Josh could put into his head, as another round of dull pain traversed his insides. He didn't know what was happening to him but wished it to stop nevertheless.
The new arrivals took short work of the guards, as Josh realised what boon magic was in combat. Soon, the sight in front of him contained numerous unconscious or killed men, as the smell of metal made his nose itch. Some of the men who he called 'master' or 'owner' were laying about, their faces still in an expression of pain and horror, their eyes glassing.
Josh noticed the movement in one of the men nearest to his hiding position and guessed that soon their attackers would notice it as well. He looked the person in the eyes, pain whipping around his body and thoughts crawling around his head. The face was unmistakable, as the eyes of the man who held the whip connected with his own.
Everything suddenly became clear. Pain whirled about Josh' body, but he didn't notice it anymore. His mind focused on two simple thoughts it could follow. Freedom. Revenge.
The collar around Josh' neck burned, his mind ached and his limbs felt like ants were crawling inside, as Josh suddenly focused on one simple thing- the man in front of him. Josh' feet sprung up, hoisting his lanky body in the air, as his fingers enveloped the burning leather and a jolt of pain seared his neck as the collar was yanked off.
The look in the man's eyes told of resignation as Josh freed himself and stretched an arm towards the sprawled body. A ball of light condensed in Josh' palm and began to stretch itself, slowly moulding into something akin to an arrow or a sharp stick. The shimmering arrow bolted from Josh' hand and pierced the man's body, ripping through his insides as blood flowed from the mouth. The man struggled to move or speak, but his squirming didn't last and his eyes soon stopped, mirroring his heart.
The pain inside Josh' head stopped, and for the first time in minutes, he could think clearly. His eyes darted between his hands, the man he just killed, and the people that gathered in front of him. The same people that had saved him. Or that would enslave him again.
A single man stepped forwards from the crowd, a non-descript cloak covering most of his features. Josh could only discern a sharp smile in the black stubble. The man approached Josh, and Josh somehow knew he shouldn't move.
The man put a strong arm on one of Josh' shoulders, the sudden added weight making him stumble a bit before regaining balance. The man spoke, a powerful and confident, yet gentle voice coming from below the cloak. "You are free now. You can come with us, and we will take care of you until we reach a town."
Words rang in Josh' ears. Was he finally free? Of all this? Someone actually helped him?
"If you wish, you can stay with us, and we will help you. Train you, if you want." The man tapped Josh' still opened palm, the specks of light among the grime covering the skin. "You can use magic, boy, and such talent should not be wasted."
Josh gulped audibly and peeked to see what was under the cloak. His saviour's eyes were gentle, full of light. Full of hope. He knew he had to take this chance. He simply nodded, hoping it would get his point across.
"Very well. My name is Marcus." The man took Josh' hand and shook it.
"J-J-Josh."
"Nice to meet you, Josh. And welcome to the porters."
The word was unknown to him, but he paid no mind. Anything was better than 'slave'. The man left to go to the other three children that still hid in the shrubbery, leaving Josh alone to gaze at the scene.
Josh turned away from the grisly sight of blood and bodies and looked into the distance. Birds flew in the open sky as the evening sun turned the bright blue into a mash of colours.
Tears welled in Josh' eyes as he slowly stretched his arms to enjoy the passing breeze. Everything was as it should be.
----------------------------------------
"Josh?" the words rang in his ears as Josh opened his eyes, rubbing his eyes to try and focus on the person that was speaking to him. He noticed his eyes were wet, but shelved the thought and looked towards his companion. "You alright?"
"Yes, Sandra. Once again, stop mothering me." Josh looked around, the morning sun basking the fields around them in light, the morning dew gathering on the grass.
"Some bad dreams, I presume?" Sandra's question hanged in the air for awhile, as Josh recollected what he had been dreaming about. The first time he was free to roam the world, the moment he realised what he wanted in life.
"On the contrary, one of the best." A smile erupted from his face as he slowly stood up.
"Well then, let's get moving, Pandemonium should be a day away now." Josh nodded to Sandra's words, as they picked up their belongings and mounted their horses, Chestnut neighing happily at the prospect of a long ride as Josh caressed her skin.
The two travellers resumed their steady pace across the grasslands, basking in the sun and breathing the fresh air, as Josh gazed at the scenery, the still image in his dreams still clinging in his mind. He would never forget it, for it means all to him.
The world was vast, and Josh was free to explore it.