Page 5 of Shackled to the Orc

“General auctions? And what’s happening to me and…and Red?” I can guess the answer, but I hope that she knows something I don’t, that I’m wrong. The woman who first tried to give me water picks up the ladle, dipping it in a bucket and bringing it to me. I take it gratefully, sipping. She’s beautiful, with raven hair, tall and lean, with thin fingers unblemished by callouses.

“You’re a virgin. They’ll sell that off to the highest bidder, unless someone wants the package deal.” She’s blunt and honest, not sugarcoating it. I look down at my left arm, where a yellow ribbon is wrapped around me, matching the red-haired woman sitting in the corner, so pale she is like a ghost.

“No!” I say, nearly shouting, and there’s a groan from the cell across from us as one of the men shifts in his sleep. “That can’t happen. There has to be a way out,” I finish, in an urgent whisper.

“I’ve been here two weeks. You don’t think I’d have gotten out if I could? I tried everything. I tried offering one of the guards a fuck if he’d let me go for a walk. I tried pretending I was sick.” She looks disgusted, her words sour.

“The auction is tonight, isn’t it?” I say, horror growing.

She nods. “Yeah. People coming from far and wide. We’re part of the biggest celebration this shithole city has all year.”

I instantly think back to the orc in his cage. I didn’t think I could ever have something in common with those brute beasts, but we’ll both be sold off tonight to the highest bidder.

That old, grizzled warrior will probably be forced into the gladiator arenas, to fight until he’s killed.

As heavy bootsteps come towards us, I instinctively reach to my moccasins for my knife. It’s gone.

The captive women press their backs against the wall, all except the raven-haired beauty who stares straight forward, resigned.

“You two! Backs against the wall!” the jailer barks out, pointing at me and the red-haired woman, who is already slumped against the back wall, defeated. I stand next to her as the jail door swings open. One by one, the women are led out, until it’s just me and her. From across us, the other guard bangs his baton against the cell door of the men, waking them up. Subdued, they are marched away, until it’s just me and her.

She sobs, softly. “This can’t be happening.” She moans, throwing her head back and squeezing her eyes tight.

“What did they get you for?” My ears are keen for the sounds of the jailers returning.

She pulls herself up, sighing, and walks to the barred door. She looks left and right. Even with no one near, she starts talking in a hushed tone. “That little welp, Lucian, was trampling through our fields on a hunting party, and a fucking fly flew in my mouth. I spat. He called it an act ofsymbolic defiance.”

“Bastards. They’re picking up anyone they can for the slave auction. Tributes were low this year, and Corwin wants to fill his coffers.” I speak in a normal tone, and she winces. “No use whispering. What else can they do to us? I’m Maya, by the way.”

“Of course tributes were low. There was a blight, and the herds were thinned out before they got here. I heard the orcs slaughtered them all for a great feast.” She shrugs. “I’m Elara.”

“Is there any way we could, I don’t know, use surprise to try and get away when they come to take us?”

“No way. The guys across from us, they were making noise late one night, and the three of them got beaten.”

“Fuck.” I reach into my pocket. I’ve got nothing of use. My herbs are for healing, but I wish I had some crushed-up petals of burn-flower, the anti-bacterial plant that I could throw into their eyes and blind them while we got away. I ran out of it two weeks ago, treating Finn’s cuts after his axe slipped cutting wood.

I need to accept my situation. I need to think.

I take the pouch out of my pocket and put it back under my tongue.

If the raven-haired woman was right and my virginity is going to go to the highest bidder…

I don’t have any guarantee I’ll be keeping my clothes.

“What are you eating?” asks Elara.

“Nothing,” I say, my voice sounding muffled, and I nearly choke on the smooth deerskin. Elara’s too distraught to ask further questions.

I take a mental tally of my herbs. I’ve got a small bag of ironbloom, for sealing wounds, and if I somehow get a flu or fever, I can chew on silvershield leaves. Nothing that can help me, except maybe the stillroot, which in high enough doses could knock someone out or even put them into a coma, but I’d have to find a way to make them drink the tea. And if one of the spiders crawling on the walls of this cell happens to be poisonous, I can make myself an antidote of veridane. That’s it. I didn’t even get my hands on the blue lotus plant. Other than that, the only thing I have is a few rocks of minerals, good for long journeys to put into drinking water if you sweat heavily to replenish the body’s sources.

Other than that, the only possessions I have are what I’m wearing. A well-made pair of moccasins my mom made me, my earthy green tunic, and my comfortable trousers old Edmund gave me after I delivered calves for him. My cloak is gone.

The booted footsteps of guards make me grit my teeth. I knew the risk when I went out, and I think to Thomas, to my mother, who will know now that I didn’t make it back. Their terror, their stress, is the mirror of mine as a new guard, tall with a shock of messy grey hair and a baton at his belt, unlocks the door and barks at us to get going.

He marches us up the hallway and through a set of doors, and I can hear the muffled noises of a crowd as we are led through a back doorway and onto the stage.

The stage is wooden, rough and well used, the amphitheater’s décor a dated caricature of wealth, gold paint peeling on the walls, the seats packed with a crowd of men, leering forward hungrily, their faces blurring together. It is a gallery of ogling masks that suffocate me, most dressed in fine clothes, others in wearied garments, saving up their working lives to buy a virgin to breed and keep.

---