Page 2 of Dominion
CHAPTER ONE
The waves of the sea were violently rocking the ship Mateo had been traveling in, so much so, he’d suffered horrible nausea for days now. He wasn’t the only one with the ailment of sea sickness, as many other prisoners who’d been captured with him retched, gagged, and vomited their stomach contents on the floor and each other as they were packed so tightly together, no man had room to move.
Mateo’s stomach lurched along with the waves, but he’d already purged himself of everything, which wasn’t much to begin with since it had been his search for food that led his captors to him. Still, with the upheaval of the ship they were on, he only dry heaved as he prayed once more for death to take him. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew it wasn’t anywhere he’d ever want to be. He’d listened to his captors talking amongst themselves about how much they’d make for their bounty. He knew he was going to be sold into slavery.
Whenever people went missing, it was almost always suspected to be the work of bandits. They would steal anything from exotic animals to grains to people. Anything that could be sold or traded. He feared that he’d never see his friends again, or his mother, Isabella, or his sister, Madeline. As the ship rocked from another ravaging wave, he thought back to the moment when his life changed.
He’d been out searching for food and other resources such as spices; these things were scarce in the badlands. Him being the only man in the house, it was his duty to provide. He’d gone looking for any animal he could find, armed with only a bow and several arrows he’d carved himself, he’d been determined to be successful. He’d traveled miles from his home towards the lushlands, and still hadn’t found any rabbits, deer, or even a muskrat.
The land where he lived was so barren of resources, as they were as far away from the gods as one could get, it was a punishment to the people of the badlands that they should suffer the consequences of their blasphemy. To refuse to worship the gods, one would pay a hefty price. However, the perk of that price was that bandits didn’t travel there much. The lack of resources, harsher weather conditions, and distance was often the deterrent.
It wasn’t until they were forced to leave that safe zone in search of food that a badlander was at risk of being captured. That was what happened to him. Going into the lushlands where the grass was green, water fresh and clean, and animals were abundant put Mateo in the range of the bandits. He fought with everything he had, even killing one of the bandits that attacked him, but it was not enough. During the melee, he’d been struck with a rock from behind and rendered unconscious, only to wake up in the bowels of the ship with no knowledge of where he was going.
The other prisoners with him were all from surrounding badlands and were captured because they too had been searching for resources. For three days now, Mateo traveled on the sea to their new destinies and he feared what his future held. His body was cold on the inside even though it was hot in the ship, and he shivered as sweat dripped from his pores. His skin was dirty and smelled horrible, and the wound on the back of his skull throbbed. He wondered if it was infected and if so, perhaps he would be spared his fate and die from his wound. That was his hope, at least.
As they traveled, the waves began to work on him in a different way, lulling him to sleep, and he blissfully welcomed the unconscious reprieve. Finally, he was shaken awake by strong, brutal hands. When he opened his eyes, his vision cleared and he was looking into the face of one of his captors.
“We go,” the man said as he began to undo the chains that kept him bound in place.
Mateo didn’t know how long he’d been on the ship, as he was in and out of consciousness the entire time, but he did realize they were now docked. Another look around, he noticed the other captives being unchained… those who were still alive, that is. A great number of prisoners had died in transit. Some from festering wounds, others from sickness or starvation.
The man undoing Mateo’s chains looked up at him, snarling as he scrunched up his nose. “Odessa’s tits, you are foul in scent, like shit and piss and dirty cunt. But are pretty enough to fetch a nice price. Be happy that.”
Mateo let the insult roll off him as he really didn’t have the energy for a rebuttal. His stomach felt like an empty pit and he was still slightly nauseated from his journey. “Where… where are we?” he managed to ask through his painfully dry mouth and lips that were so cracked, they hurt.
“You are where you are,” the man replied harshly. He snatched one of the chains that was connected to Mateo’s iron collar, wrist and ankle cuffs. “Move!”
Mateo was yanked forward again, and ended up falling face first in the foul grime and muck on the floor. His body was far too weak to remain standing on its own, but he knew he had to try or possibly be dragged.
“Kijani’s cock, pathetic. I’ll not carry you. Move now!” the man barked his command.
Mateo struggled to push himself up onto his knees, which was proving to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Once he was able to sit on his knees, he gathered what little strength he had left and rose to his feet. With that, the man pulled on his chain, leading him out of the ship onto the deck. Mateo stumbled several times as he struggled to keep pace with the man, on legs that felt like wet noodles.
Mateo covered his eyes from the bright light of the sun’s beaming rays. He’d been surrounded by darkness for so long, finally seeing light was almost a shock to his system. His captor yanked on his chain again, and he lurched forward, tripped, and fell onto the railing where he was able to catch his balance.
“Walk now!” the man ordered, not giving Mateo a chance to get his bearings.
Had Mateo had the strength, he would have attacked the man, the rage he felt at being captured and mistreated was all consuming, but he was far too weak to fight back. Instead, he put one foot in front of the other and allowed his captor to lead him to a large carriage where the other prisoners were being piled on. He climbed on and held on to one of the poles to keep from falling again.
He watched as his captor connected his chain to an iron hoop on the carriage, thus insuring he wouldn’t be able to escape. The man walked back towards the ship to gather more slaves. Another male captive was led into the carriage and shackled to the iron hoop beside Mateo. The captive looked as broken down and exhausted as Mateo felt and looked. The bandit shoved the man to the floor and barked at him to “stay” as if he had choice. The man then walked off back to the ship.
Mateo counted how many bandits there were. Eight. How was it that eight men could enslave… he looked around the carriage and lost count after twenty-six men, women, and children? Not to mention, all the ones who’d died on the ship? Maybe there were more bandits that he hadn’t got a chance to see, and only eight remained to continue to transport the prisoners.
Unable to stand any longer, he sank to the floor of the carriage, resting his head on the wood panel. The cool breeze on his skin was a welcomed aspect to his current situation as he’d been denied fresh air for days. As he sat there, his head resting on the carriage that would carry him to another uncertain fate, he felt forsaken and only wanted this nightmare to end. But he knew it was only beginning. Once all of the prisoners had been loaded into the carriage, to the point where there was no room for anyone to move or get completely comfortable, it began to move. It was more rocking and bumping, but nowhere near as tumultuous as the rocking of the ship, so Mateo counted what little blessings he did have.
“Where they get you from, you?” one of the prisoners asked him.
Mateo tore his gaze from the pretty white clouds in the blue sky to look at the man. “From the Kirrachi badlands.”
The man smiled, revealing several rotten teeth. “Oh, me from Toredor badlands. Me was sleeping… they came into the badlands, they did… found me.”
Mateo’s eyes widened as his heart leaped into his throat at the knowledge that the bandits had entered the very badlands where they hadn’t before. “They came into the badlands?” he asked, his voice going up a pitch.
The man nodded. “They put bag over me head, they did. Me saw nothing… just heard. Heard screaming.”
Mateo sighed woefully as he closed his eyes. The Toredor badlands were only a few dozen miles from the Kirrachi badlands where his family was. “Oh gods, please spare them,” he prayed.
He knew for a fact that the gods did exist, as did everyone. For over two hundred years since the Great Calamity, the gods had made themselves known and had only granted certain people blessings. The people of the badlands were never so fortunate… but he could still hope.
