Celthair awoke. She was still bound and gagged. The first sun was rising, and she could see they were in a camp. There were now many soldiers and horses. Lying beside her were other people, also bound and gagged.

Some were waking and some were already sitting up, their shoulders sagging and heads down dejectedly.

Celthair looked more carefully at the armour of the soldiers. On their breastplates there was a symbol, engraved in it of the face of a beast with fire coming from its mouth. There was only one beast like that, she had seen it, raised by Mac Roth during the great battle of Athlethan. The mighty Tor-Rigil, destroyed by the Leviathan. The dark armour and hair and skin of the people made her realise they were of the dark city, past the wastes of Sennol, far to the north-west.

These were the fearsome remnants of the army of Mac Roth and his conquered general, Amerghin. But what were they doing in Athlethan? Celthair was certain she was witnessing the rise of a slave trade. They were capturing girls to sell as slaves and wives for the men of the black city. Bile rose in her mouth, and she felt sick as she looked at the children lying around her. Then rage began to grow in her, she hoped that the alarm had been raised and her worried mother would send the entire force of Riangbra warriors to this place to save their children. There were some young boys as well and she wondered why they had not taken Ciaran. Perhaps he was too old and strong and was a risk to them rather than a reward.

It was not long before all the children were sitting up, about twenty of them, Celthair counted. Five or six of them were her age. One of the girls was staring at her. Her eyes flashing and angry. Celthair looked more carefully, she was wriggling and nodding her head, she was trying to speak through the gag. Then suddenly Celthair recognised her, it was Mairghread.

She had been captured too. She wondered how they had managed to capture so many of them without raising the alarm. She nodded at Mags to let her know she recognised her.

She looked around once more. They were on a grassy plain. It didn’t take long for her school geography lessons to tell her they were on the border of Muirthemne, in the dead lands just south of the edge of the great desert.

Soon they were loaded into wagons, five to a wagon. Celthair shuffled forward when the guards were not looking to make sure she was in the same wagon as Mags. Their gags were removed, and they were given Trias bread and water. Once seated in the covered wagons, Mags and Celthair hugged. Mags was crying and shaking. Celthair comforted her, calming her friend.

One of the girls in another wagon began to cry out for help. No doubt hoping to raise the alarm with someone close by. But her cries became screams of pain, as she was lashed as punishment. There was not a sound after this. Everyone now knew the retaliation for making a sound.

The wagons moved fast toward the North-west. Celthair could see flashes of countryside as the canvas sides of the wagon flapped apart as it bounced over the rough track. She saw they were keeping off the main road when they could. Several times they left the main road quickly, hiding behind bushes. No doubt people were on the road, and they were hiding, so as not to be discovered.

The journey was uncomfortable, and they could only sleep well when they stopped to set up camp. They were left in the cramped wagons and only allowed out one by one to stretch and refresh themselves.

After a day of travel, Celthair peered out and saw a plain, in the distance, mountains, smoke was coming from a small mountain, quite close to them. There was the skull of the un-named beast that lay in the middle of the plain. It was the plain of Sennol, the site of the great battle that Celthair had seen with her own eyes a few cycles ago. It seemed so long ago; she could not believe it had only been four cycles since they were all there last.

After they had skirted the swamps of the dead, on the narrow hill paths of the Sennol mountains, they finally entered the Black lands. It was the coast road that led through rainforest and palm filled beaches. It became humid and oppressive and the captors, having come from the cool climate of Athlethan, became miserable in the covered wagons.

One of the guards, checking on them noticed and whipped off the covers. Despite the hot sun, it was a lot cooler as the breeze from the carts moving along, evaporated their sweat, making them feel cooler and more comfortable.

The girls and boys feeling better, were now standing, chattering about the scenery they could see. They were still nervous and afraid, but there was some excitement in the journey for them. It was much better than the boring sides of a canvas wagon.

The days were better than the nights. Because the blood sucking insects went away. At night they had to wrap themselves in their clothes to prevent the biting. If any surface of their skin became uncovered, it would be red with welts the next day.

Celthair was informed that they were two days away from the black city and the children and the older girls were taken out of the wagons, divided up into groups and taken to a place to bathe and wash their clothes. They were warned that if any of them did not wash properly, they would be punished. The pool was delightful. The water warm and sparkling. They were allowed nearly all day to splash around and have fun then relax and sleep. But they were under close guard by the women warriors in case any should try to slip away. No one did, they would not know where to go or how to survive in this unfamiliar place.

They all groaned when it was time to be loaded into the wagons and once in, they travelled all night, arriving at the foreboding gates of the Black City, early the following morning. It did not take long, and the wagons made their way through the bustling and noisy streets, arriving at what could only be described as markets. They were selling everything, from slaves to swords, rags, fruit, and whole carcases of large bovines hung, skinned from hooks on large wooden frames. The noise was dreadful. Some of the children began to cry, unused to the raucous shouting and the Emim giants ogling them from over the top of the wagons.

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The crowd grew, eager to see the new arrivals. Some of them, richer folk were there to buy a child. Slaves were rare and the soldiers who had captured them became rich as one by one they sold the children off to wealthy family homes. Some even were purchased as adopted children.

Celthair was horrified, seeing her people sold in this way. She spoke to each child, instructing them that she would find a way to save them and to do as they were told.

Not many of the people were keen to buy an older fierce eyed slave girl, so Mags and Celthair, plus a couple of other girls were soon among the last left. The crowd melted away once the stock was depleted. There was still a lot of interest in them, and people came to ogle them. Celthair was beautiful as were Mags and the other girls and groups of boys, whistled, trying to get their attention.

Celthair looked around angrily, wiping the tears of anger from her eyes. She noticed a tall elderly man was staring at her. He looked different from the rest of the crowd. But he was forgotten for a moment as Mags cried out. A very large and cruel looking man held Mags roughly by the arm.

“How much for this one?” he asked one of the soldiers.

“Twenty gold pieces,” he said.

“I have fifteen,” he said, throwing a bag to the soldier.

“What do you need her for?” the soldier asked.

“I want to buy me a wife,” the man said, looking at Mags with a smirk.

Mags groaned and struggled to free her arm.

Celthair pulled Mags out of the man’s grip and put herself between the man and Mags.

“Never,” said Celthair. “It is against the law of Athlethan to do this.

“You aren’t in Athlethan now, love, now give her here.” He grabbed at Mags and Celthair lashed out striking the man on the jaw.

He grunted with pain; blood began dripping from the corner of his mouth.

The man grabbed her and forced her down onto her knees. He grabbed Mags and pulled them apart. He threw Celthair aside and Mags screamed; her eyes full of terror as the man threw her over his massive shoulder and began to carry her away. She was helpless in his strong grasp. Celthair tried to run forward but the manacle holding her to the slave chain, painfully stopped her in her tracks.

“Don’t worry Mags,” she called out to her friend. “I’ll come soon”. Celthair looked around helplessly as she pulled frantically on the manacle around her wrist.

When the man and Mags were out of sight, she cried her head in her hands.

“How much for this one?” said a voice.

Celthair looked up, the elderly man she had noticed before was now in front of her.

“I am not for sale,” she said angrily to the man.

“Thirty gold,” the slaver said.

“Done,” said the old man and counted out thirty gold from a purse strapped to his side.

Once he had handed it over and Celthair was released from the chain. He beckoned to her to follow him, which she did. She watched him suspiciously as she followed him up the now almost deserted market street.

“Who are you?” she asked him. He said nothing and continued to walk.

“I’ll run, if you don’t tell me who you are.” She said loudly.

“No, you won’t,” he said. Despite her continued protestations, he did not answer her again and she decided to follow this man as he seemed sensible and confident, not at all shifty like most of the people she had seen back at the market. It was her only chance to gain some control of her situation.

They walked till the centre of the city was well behind them. Soon the streets became dirtier and the houses more run down and old. The old man eventually stopped in front of one particularly dilapidated house and banged hard on the door.

“Azazel, get out here,” he shouted.

After a few moments the door was roughly opened and the enormous man who had carried off Mags appeared at the door.

“What do you want?” he said, scowling at the man.

“You will release the girl to me, I will not allow you to do this.”

Azazel scowled and slammed the door.

Celthair was not sure how it happened but saw it happen. The man muttered something under his breath and his hand slapped the door, it exploded into shards of wood, there was a loud bang and a cloud of dust. The man walked into the house and disappeared. There were shouts of anger and loud thumps then a cry of pain that ended in a growl. Celthair went to walk inside, hoping to find Mags. She needed to duck suddenly as the huge man flew through the air toward her. Around his body, black lightning with purple edges crackled around him. When it stopped, he fell heavily to the ground, grunting and then laying still.

Celthair ran inside to find the man loosening the ropes than had bound Mags to a chair. Celthair knelt down and untied the knots around her ankles. Mags sobbed and her hand reached out, grabbing Celthair’s hand tightly.

“Don’t worry, I’m here with you now,” said Celthair comfortingly. Once loose Mags stood up and wrapped her arms around Celthair, crying with relief.

Once they had calmed down the man offered them water from a leather canteen, and they drank thirstily.

“Who are you?” she asked the man. She noticed now that his face was etched with lines that gave him a permanently sad expression.

“You are Celthair, daughter of Tuatha and Granddaughter of King Aillel of Athlethan. I have met your father. We did not agree on many matters, but he is a good man.”

“Can we trust you?” asked Celthair questioningly. “I don’t think I know who you are.”

“I am Lord Buadach. I am a distant relative of Emain the first. My ancestors were his cousins. Your mother is my niece.”

“You are my great uncle?” exclaimed Celthair. Why did my mother or my grandmother never mention you?”

“We had a family argument, many years ago. I left and trained with Amerghin under Mac-Roth, but I left as I didn’t agree with their plans to destroy the peace of the deep lands.

“But you used elemental power here, I saw it, it is forbidden.” said Celthair nervously.

Buadach replied, “I have unlocked it and can control it. It will not corrupt me. Do not worry. I have no desire to start a war or take the throne from your family line.”

Celthair was unsure. All she had learned in her lessons with Cathabad was that elemental power in the hands of men, was evil and corrupted them. But she had no choice but to trust this man until she was safe, and she had rescued the children from their captors.

“Now come with me,” he said as he got up and walked out the room.

Celthair looked at Mags and she looked back at her. They grinned and then laughed. “Feeling better, Maggie,” asked Celthair. Mags nodded and they followed Buadach out of the house and then out of the city.

Outside the city there were less people. Some were behind them walking in the same direction. Suddenly there was a commotion behind them. They turned to see a scuffle in progress. Three rough looking men were accosting another man. Finally, two of them held him by his arms, his legs kicked upwards and connected with the third man’s face, knocking him to the ground. He leaped up and punched the man hard in the midriff. Celthair stared at the man, who was now doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach. She began to walk in his direction, curious as to why she felt she was drawn towards him. Mags grabbed her arm, “Don’t go over there”, she pleaded, “they look dangerous, its none of our business.”

Celthair turned and walked away once more, looking back over her shoulder, not sure why he seemed so familiar to her.