Chapter 7 - Chains and Shackles

Aven didn’t hesitate. Not for a single moment. A snarl pushed out from between his lips as he dragged Lucian behind him just as the sword came cutting forwards. Aven lifted his fist protectively and the sword cracked down against the golden cuff on his wrist. His leg was sweeping out beneath the sailor’s legs, knocking him to the ground and he spun, his head snapping towards Lucian. “Lucian! My weapons! Now!”

Lucian didn’t answer. He stared in shock at the sailors that were now converging on Aven, weapons in hand. “I….but they-”

“They betrayed you! Your highness, we need to move!” Aven sidestepped. His fists were brought up in front of himself, assuming a warrior’s stance, ducking down as an axe swung over his head and came up with his knuckles cracking against the man’s chin. The sound of a shattering jaw snapped Lucian to attention.

The Prince grit his teeth, throwing his hands out, eyes burning silver. An incantation tumbled from his lips and as Aven backed away from his assailants, his grip heavied as twin axes materialized in his grip.

Aven’s fingers flexed around the hilts.

Now… now they had a chance.

He was an animal trapped in a cage. His chest heaved, eyes locked on the weapons in the hands of his combatants as they approached. His jaw slid forward. “Bastards,” he hissed out, placing himself between the Prince and the sailors.

“Aven!” Lucian’s voice called him to attention. The slaver’s ship had pulled up alongside their own, and men were climbing aboard with nets and spears in hand. A foreign language filled the air - laughter and taunts as they encircled the Prince and his slave.

“They’re Amnians,” Lucian choked out, features twisted with confusion.

Aven’s eyes searched their foes. Outnumbered. “I’m sorry, your highness, but is now a good time to mention I was right?"

"Shut up and do your job!” Lucian snapped out. “Protect me. And I’ll see us back home."

Lucian took up a stance, hands snapped out. He muttered under his breath, an ancient arcane tongue and a circle of magic illuminated at his feet, twining around his feet and fingers.

And utterly vulnerable as he began to cast.

Aven waited. Waited until they began to approach. Waited until the perfect moment… when they believed they’d trapped the beast in a corner. Little do they know - a cornered animal was when they were at their most dangerous.

Aven surged forward. A twist of his axe cut through a man’s spear and he spun around, dodging another blow and as he came back around, swung his second axe upwards. He heard the familiar sound of steel connecting with bone - and watched out of the corner of his eye as a severed arm nearly struck Lucian’s head as the mage concentrated. A third sailor slid as blood surging from the severed arm coated the deck. He slammed into a slaver and both went toppling to the ground in a heap.

It would have been almost humorous, if Aven wasn’t being struck from all sides. Aven hissed out as a sword passed against his side, ripping through flesh and he slammed his head forward, knocking his forehead against the man’s helm and the man staggered back, stunned before Aven’s boot planted against his breast plate, knocking him to the ground.

It was no use.

As one went down, another simply took his place. He deflected a spear’s blow only for a net to fall over him, weighing him down and slamming the slave to the ground, face against the wooden planks. “Hold him!” One of Kylar’s sailors cried out, spears readied and aimed at Aven. “Get the Prince!”

The Prince.

Aven snapped his head over. Where Lucian’s magic had been concentrated - a creature stood before him. It possessed the torso and hindquarters of a horse, and the forelegs, wings and head of a silvery white eagle. Aven’s faced such beasts before in the arena. A hippogriff.

Relief surged through him.

Lucian was right. He’d found a way for them to escape.

The relief turned to ashes in his mouth then as Lucian swung up onto the hippogriff’s back, fingers twisting into its feathers.

No…. was he… was he leaving?!

Anger. His vision was clouded by white hot anger as Aven grit his teeth, glowering at the Prince through the holes of the net. Of course he is. How could Aven have expected anything different. How could he have thought Lucian was any different. He had to save himself, just like always. Aven looked over to the nearest soldier, eyes blackened with cold fury.

"I don’t give a shit how this goes down,” he seethed. “I just know you won’t be coming out of it.”

The sailor hesitated.

A moment’s hesitation. That’s all Aven needed. He lunged himself forward, weight smothering the man and beat down with everything he had. His tangled fists, his head. Beat him down until the man beneath him was a bloody pulp and he fumbled for the man’s knife. He had to cut his way out. Had to-

“Fuck!” A slaver shouted, looking to one of the sailors. His voice was in rough Aelorian. “Forget the slave - too much trouble. Kill him, we only need the Prince!”

Lucian was ready to fly. Gripping onto the feathers of his summoned hippogriff, he only needed to lift off and into the sky. He would be free.

But Lucian looked back.

His eyes met Aven’s and he hesitated. Fire raged in the barbarian’s orbs, defiance and determination marring his features. That same look that’d prompted Lucian to choose him to begin with.

Lucian cursed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Damn it,” he snarled - and leaped form his hippogriff. An icy cold mist breathed from between his pale lips, stretching out over the surface of the ship. Slavers slipped and slid into one another, sailors crashing to the ground. Lucian touched down next to Aven, a knife in hand.

“What are you doing?!” Aven hissed.

“Something against my better judgement,” Lucian grunted. He tore the dagger through the netting, sawing through. Behind him, the slavers and sailors were subduing his hippogriff and converging.

“You might want to do that a little faster, then,” Aven offered.

Lucian shot him a look, dragging his dagger through enough of the netting for Aven to rip through the remainder himself. Lucian reached down, grasping Aven’s hand and heaved him to his feet. “There,” he said. “Now, we’re even.”

Then, a spear pushed through his shoulder, and Aven felt a freeing cold hand rip his heart from his chest.

The colour drained from Lucian’s face. As the spear wrenched out, blood seeped down his clothes, staining them red. “…oh,” Lucian whispered before crumbling to his knees.

Aven surged down.

Axes clattered to the deck as his arms roped under Lucian’s small figure, drawing him into his chest. No mind was paid to the advancing sailors and slavers.

Blood oozed from his wounds and Aven grit his teeth, eyes searching Lucian’s frame. “Fucking delicate flower..” he hissed out. “Open your eyes.”

Lucian did. Eyes unfocused, they locked on to Aven’s face - then, at the figure approaching, cutting through the crowds. Fury contorted his features, and the Prince set his jaw, sitting up. “You.”

Captain Kylar’s boots clicked against the deck, longsword drawn and purple tinted magic curving down the blade. “Good evening, your highness,” he said.

“Kylar.” Despite his wound, Lucian struggled to his feet, face ash white. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Kylar didn’t respond. He snapped his fingers and Lucian shouted out as a sailor and slaver surged forward, taking his wrists and wrenching them behind his back, sending him down to his knees beside Aven. “There was a terrible accident at sea,” Kylar said. “While the young lord was traveling to Amn, we were attacked by pirates. They killed him, and his pleasure pet.” He swiped the silver Prince’s circlet from Lucian’s hair. “They were never seen again."

Chains locked around Lucian’s wrists. He trembled with rage. "You won’t be able to get away with this,” he spat. “My family-”

“Your family?”

Kylar lowered to one knee. The tip of his longsword tilted up Lucian’s chin. “You mean your uncle. Come now, boy. Do you really think I arranged this?”

The anger washed from Lucian’s features, replaced with shock. “…there never was a diplomatic mission to Amn..was there?”

“No. There was. You were just never intended to reach it.” Kylar pushed up to his feet. “I was supposed to kill you. But I am a man of opportunity.” He put out his hand, and an Amnian slaver set a sack of gold into his palm. “I’m sure you understand.”

Lucian didn’t answer. His head hung, dull yellow locks hanging like a tattered curtain around his face. Aven bit down the chaos of his rage. “We’ll kill you for this,” he snarled.

“Oh? And how will you do that, when in chains and serving some Amnian noble?” Kylar asked. He snapped his fingers. “You may have them. Take them down below. They’re your problem, now.”

—————————————–

Aven fought with tooth and nail. It took five men to suppress him as he surged against them before a mage sapped the very strength from his muscles until he was limp as a rag doll. Lucian didn’t fight. He was simply dragged onto the other ship. Their clothes were ripped from their backs. Lucian’s fine jewelry. Aven’s g weapons. All of it, save for Aven’s golden cuffs which would be sold with him, taken and tossed aside to Amnians who chattered in their foreign tongue. They were then forced into the garments of slaves, pieces of linen and cloth that were practically falling apart at the seams.

Aven could hear his lion being dragged onto the ship. The Amnians touched electric spears to the creature’s hide, sparks shooting through his fur and Aven grit his teeth, jerking against his chains. “No!” He cried out. “Don’t hurt him!”

He was silenced by a dagger’s hilt being slammed into his mouth. “Silence!” The Amnian snarled, taking Lucian and Aven down below.

They weren’t the only ones. Two dozen other slaves were chained to posts in the wooden flooring, heads hanging and emaciated. Aven’s hands were wrenched back, fastened to the floor as he was shoved to his knees beside Lucian and the slavers retreated to the deck, laughing and talking save for one who stood guard, whip in hand.

The ship was starting to move once more. It cut through the dark ocean towards whatever port they were to be auctioned off at. Aven bit down the knot of terror in his stomach, looking over towards Lucian. “…I’m sorry, my lord,” he whispered, voice low. “There were too many. You would have died.”

“I should have left you behind.” Lucian’s voice was ice. “I can’t believe it…my escape was right there. I would have been halfway to Aeliorn right now if it weren’t for you.”

“I would have figured something out. I wouldn’t be in chains.” Lucian quieted as the guard passed. He blew an aggravated huff. “Look at me. I look like a slave.” His face was tinted green.

This was no new thing to Aven. Being bound in chains. Lowered to the floor on his knees in the face of others. But for the Prince… Aven could imagine this was a very fresh experience. Aven sighed and hung his head. “You look far from a slave,” he murmured. “No amount of rags and grime could change that.”

Lucian didn’t answer for a long while. He tugged mindlessly at his chains, eyes knit shut. “…I knew my uncle wanted the throne,” he finally whispered. “After my parent’s deaths, he was always audacious in assuming my duties. But I never thought…” He clenched his fists. “He’s going to pay for this.”

“He will. I’ll ensure you get home, but for now, I’m still waiting to feel my body again.”

“No.” Lucian turned, until he faced away from Aven. “I can’t trust you to do anything. I’ll do it myself."

Aven arched a brow. It was a side he’d yet to have seen from the Prince. A boy. A childish, pouting, brooding boy. He heaved a breath, knocking his head against the ship’s rocking, creaking hull. “…I suggest you try and get some sleep, your highness,” he muttered. “It’s going to be a long while before we reach Amn..”

————————————

They didn’t see the light of day for a month. A month of traveling overseas. A month of pissing in a corner and eating scraps. He practically had to force feed Lucian through the first few meals, who insisted he was above this ‘peasant food’ until he too began to greedily devour every scrap of bread they were thrown.

After a month, the constant rocking of the ship came to an end, and the door opened as a man entered the slave pen. An Amnian. Dressed in golden silks with fine jewels that hung strung around his neck, he held a wicked looking whip in his hand. "We’ve reached the port,” he growled in Aelorian. “Get these slaves up to the deck. Bring the cat, too. We’ll be able to fetch a handsome price for the beast once we reach shore.”

Terror strangled Aven. He wrenched his head up. “The beast,” he said, surging against the chains. “The beast is worth more when it’s paired with me.”

The whip came down before he could finish his sentence, lashing across his shoulder in a familiar sting. The slaver reached out, grabbing Aven’s jaw. “My, a feisty one, this is,” he said. Aven could smell cigars on his breath.

Aven could hear Kion being dragged from his pen. The whispers of men talking about what a fine price the pelt would fetch. They were going to kill him.

“Are you daft?” Lucian had finally spoken, drawing his tired eyes up as he leaned against the ship’s hull.

“What did you say?” The slaver sneered, releasing Aven’s jaw to march towards Lucian.

“I asked are you daft,” Lucian repeated boldly. “Do you even know who this is?”

“A slave.”

“He’s more than a slave. That’s the Beast Tamer. He’s the crown jewel of the Exthellion Arena. He’s no common slave.”

The name went unheard to most of the slavers. But one of their eyes widened with recognition. He stumbled towards his leader, voice low as he murmured into the man’s ears. Finally, he nodded. “Aye. Don’t sully this one. He’s worth more than all this grime put together. He and the cat will be sold as one.” He gave Aven a smile, gold teeth glittering in the torchlight. “Let’s see how long they last in the arena.”

Aven and Lucian were wrenched to their feet. Aven leaned over towards Lucian. “…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Lucian muttered.

The sun was blinding as they were dragged up onto the ship’s deck. Aven winced, twisting his head away as his eyes adjusted to daylight for the first time in a month. Rough hands pushed against his back and he staggered, chains clinking around his feet as he and Lucian were directed to stand beside the other slaves in a line upon the ship’s deck.

The man adorned in fine silks - Giarrok, as Aven overheard - inspected the slaves one by one. He circled the first of the slaves - a large man, stoic and unflinching as he poked and prodded. “Strong. Healthy. Young. A fine price - forty gold.”

Another man wrote it down, slinging a price sign around the slave’s neck.

They went down the line. A commoner. Ten gold. An old man. Five gold. A young woman. Twenty. He stopped in front of Lucian, then and his brow arched. “Well, well, well,” he hummed.

He reached out, snatching Lucian’s jaw. The boy’s face contorted with disgust as his mouth was forced open. “Clean teeth. That’s a first. Clearly hasn’t worked a day in his life. He’ll be useless in the fields. A noble… he’ll fetch a high price.”

Lucian’s eyes narrowed to slits. He yanked his head away and flexed his jaw. “A noble? I’m-”

Aven kicked him. Hard.

Lucian glowered at him, a scathing retort on the edge of his tongue… when understanding passed over his features. Here - his name and title would not save him. Here, a name and title would simply fetch a higher price. Lucian grit his teeth and settled into brooding silence.

Giarrok reached Aven.

“Beast Tamer,” he murmured, circling Aven like a hawk. “In very good condition… how old are you, boy."

Aven was experienced with this role. He kept his eyes facing frontwards, body still. "Can’t say for certain, sir. If I could guess, somewhere in my 20’s.”

Giarrok hung a price around his neck and moved on to the next slave. As he finished the row, a trumpet was blown and one by one, the slaves were led off the ship and into the bazaar.

It was immediately apparent they were no longer in Aeliorn. In this strange land, Aven could hear a melting pot of foreign tongues and laughter. Men and women wore clothes of silk as they browsed hundreds of slaves within the market. Men and women in nothing but rags pulled in chains through tents and caravans. In the distance, Aven could see glittering towers of gold shimmering in the sunlight.

Aven felt a tremble of Lucian’s hands as the boy exhaled a ragged breath, eyes locked on the ground as he followed the line of slaves.

Aven doesn’t react, save for a low hiss. “Keep yourself composed,” he murmured. “They lash at weakness. You won’t be like this for long.”

“No. I won’t."

They were led through the market like cattle to the slaughter. The wail of children caught Aven’s attention, glancing over in time to see a sickeningly familiar sight. The breaking of young slaves, backs bloodied and faces stricken with tears. His chest tightened, dragging his eyes away. Aven could see Lucian’s gaze lingering. Lingering on the horror. Mothers being ripped from their children. Men’s backs being lashed by razor sharp whips.

The line of slaves came to a stop. “Take those two into my private tent,” Giarrok growled. “Chain them to the post, and the lion… muzzle it, and fasten it down in the back. Take the rest of these slaves to the auction.”

A private tent? Aven craned to get one more look at his lion before he and Lucian were being shoved before a grand tent of red fabric and stumbled inside. It had all the luxuries a man could want. Kegs of fine wine in the corner. A bed with the pelt of a manticore spread across its mattress. A small round table filled to the brim with delicious foreign foods.

And a post that stuck up in the middle of it.

Aven’s hair was grabbed. He was pulled downwards with a grunt, his hands being wrenched behind his back and fastened to the post in chains. Lucian was shoved down beside him, putting up not an inch of fight. “You,” the man snarled to a nearby slaver. “Watch them.” The slaver gave a nod, scimitar in hand as his eyes locked on the Prince and his slave.

Aven couldn’t help it. The helplessness that swelled in his chest. They were screwed. He and his lion were going to be given up to another arena. Lucian was likely going to be bought to be some pleasure slave… or perhaps sent back to his uncle for death. Either way… Aven couldn’t see a way out of this.

“Lucian,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I tried-”

“Be quiet.”

Aven blinked. He scowled and twisted around to face Lucian. “Are you seriously-”

“I said be quiet.” Lucian’s eyes were locked on the guard who was currently rifling through his master’s wine. “You are going to keep your mouth shut.”

Then, he looked to the guard. “You! You big, ugly brute. Come here.”

The guard snapped his head up.

“Lucian!” Aven hissed out.

Lucian didn’t respond. He kept his eyes locked on the guard who swiped a bit of wine from his lip and approached, whip in hand. “The fuck did you say?”

“Ah, so you do speak Common. I believe you heard me.”

Aven tore his gaze away as the man’s fist smashed against Lucian’s face. Already, a bruise of dark blue was blooming on pale white skin and Lucian gasped out, blood trickling from his lip. “I see you’re akin to my slave,” he muttered. “A man with so little muscle between the ears he must resort to his fists. Are all Amnians like you?”

“I suggest,” the guard growled, lowering down to grab Lucian’s collar. “You shut your mouth, you wretched whoreson.”

“Whoreson? Well, that’s a bit rude. But to be expected, considering I haven’t even been offered a drink and I’ve been in here for all but two minutes.”

He was going to get himself killed. Aven groaned, knocking his head back against the post - when he saw it. Keys. They were slowly - ever so so slowly - floating up from the guard’s pocket. Aven glanced over to Lucian. His eyes were locked on the slaver’s face, but Aven could see the strain of effort etched across his features.

“You’re enslaved and you honestly think you’re going to get a drink?!” Aven lashed out, looking back towards Lucian. “You’re as thick as this bloke.”

“But never as thick as you, darling,” Lucian purred back.

“At least I’m not demanding drinks. How did you survive so long in the castle?”

“I’m simply very good at using my mouth.”

“Shut up, the both of you!” The guard was glowering at the pair of them, pushing to his feet with whip in hand. “One more word,” he said. “And I’ll-”

“And you’ll what?” Lucian challenged. The keys were floating around the edges of the tent. “You’ll damage Giarrok’s precious slaves? I don’t think so. You’re all talk.”

Another fist smashed into Lucian’s mouth, just as Aven felt the keys lower into his hand. Lucain spat out blood. “As you wish,” he hissed out, and the slaver returned to his post, muttering to himself as he drew another flask of wine.

Lucian lowered his voice. “Do you have it?”

“Yes.”

“Do mine first. This will be over soon.”

Aven was no rogue. His big, meaty fingers were clumsy around the key as he struggled to twist it around. The key clinked against the lock, a sound that Lucian swiftly covered up with a racking cough. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s so dusty in here.”

Aven fumbled with the key, eyes knit shut - then he felt the key lock into place. He twisted it to the side and Lucian’s hand was instantly out, eyes glowing white hot. “Ast tasarak sinularan kyrnawi,” he snarled. Pink mist billowed forth from his fingertips, surging across the room towards the man.

The slaver charged forth, scimitar in hand. He didn’t make it far. The moment he breathed in the pinkish fumes he staggered, moaned and collapsed to the ground, inches from Aven and Lucian and gave a rumbling snore.

“You put him to sleep?” Aven asked in amazement.

Lucian twisted around, unlocking Aven from the post. “Yes. But he won’t stay that way for long. Giarrok put your weapons in that chest over there.”

Aven wasted no time in throwing open the chest and collecting his weapons. “How do you suppose we get out of here?” he questioned, flexing his fingers around the hilts of his weapons.

“Simple. I’ll turn us invisible. We’ll just sneak by.”

“You can turn us invisible?”

Lucian frowned at him. “You sound so surprised. Stand still.” He rested his hand on Aven’s shoulder.

But instead of turning invisible - there was a great flash of light that had them both hurtling backwards, Aven crashing into the table with wine spilling across his frontside. He grit his teeth and pushed up. “The hell was that?!”

Lucian lifted his head up from the ground with a grimace. “…it would seem to be another spell error. But at least nothing disastrous happened.”

“At least,” Aven muttered, pushing to his feet and rubbed his head… before freezing. He cocked his head, craning to listen.

“-should be able to catch a carriage. Think we could sell some of the things in here? Then we could-”

“Be quiet.”

Lucian spun around. “Excuse me?”

“Listen.”

Lucian listened. His eyes widened. “…screams.”

Outside - the sound had grown louder and louder. Screams. Shrieks of panic. And a low, thundering, buzzing roar. Aven and Lucian glanced to one another in exasperation and he swept forward, pulling the tent flap aside. Outside - it was utter chaos.

The slave market was being swarmed with thousands upon thousands of bees. Panicked screams echoed as slavers dove for cover, and slavers raced to find shelter. One man was utterly swarmed in seconds, collapsing to the ground and when the bees lifted off from him, his body twitched, covered in hundreds of stings.

Aven stared. "Your magic is some of the most wild shit I’ve ever seen.”

“We’re going to get stung to death.”

“Just bee careful.” Aven stepped out and Lucian followed with a scowl.

“Is this a joke to you?!” Lucian hissed, keeping pace with Aven. “We’re an ocean from home, surrounded by killer bees and have no idea where the hell we are!” To their left, a group of slavers were desperately trying to fight off a swarm as they ran for their lives, covered in stings.

Aven shook his head and grabbed Lucian’s hand, tugging him around to the side of the tent. “No,” he said. “It’s not a joke. Believe it or not, I’m scared witless. I haven’t the slightest clue where we are, or what we’re doing or how in the nine hells we’re getting out of here. But if you’ll forgive me, your highness, not everyone shakes when they’re scared. Especially not a gladiator.”

Lucian tugged on a strand of blonde hair. “A shame then that not everyone is you. We need to move, quickly.”

Nearby, another slave went down and Aven grit his teeth, smacking a bee away from his arm. “We need to get to the ocean,” Aven said. “If we follow it, the bees will be of no issue.”

Lucian didn’t argue. The two slaves dodged and wove around the swarms of bees as they picked their way to the ocean. The crowd screamed behind them as Aven jogged to the edge of the dock, peering down into the polluted water. “We jump here.”

“You can’t be serious.”

A low buzz caught Aven’s attention. He turned his head as a great swarm came flying towards them and Aven swallowed. “The alternative is being stung to death, your highness.”

He didn’t wait for Lucian to argue. He shoved his hands against the Prince’s back, pushing him into the water and dove after as the swarm converged on the docks.

The art of the slave port is from the official Forgotten Realms wiki!