Lynn - The Chariots Slave

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents eitherare the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, andany resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businessestablishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

THE CHARIOTS SLAVE Copyright 2011 by R. Lynn

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced byany means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying,recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system withoutwritten permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied incritical articles and reviews.

Cataloguing-in-Publication Data is on file with the Library of Congress
Cover designed by R. Lynn
For information about the author, visit www.AuthorRLynn.com B urning sand whipped at her legs, pushed by the desert

wind. Her weary feet, broken and scorched, a reminder of how far theyd come. She ran her tongue over her cracked lips, trying to find enough saliva to calm their sting. But it was no use, she hadnt had water for two long days.

The rope around her neck restricted her ability to breathe. Hours ago it broke through her skin, warm liquid now trickled down her throat. Despite her rising desire, she could not pause to inspect if it was blood or sweat. She had to keep walking.

One foot after another, trudging forward, she and the train of women followed blindly behind the guards. Each steptaking her farther away from her shadowed past and one stride closer to whatever it was the future held.

No matter how hard she tried to think of something else, nothingnot even the pain could keep her from remembering the night that brought her to this place

Where is it? her father ordered as he dug his uncut fingernails deeper into her arm, pressing her further into the ground.

She turned her head trying not to breathe in the spoiled wine fumes that now wafted in her face. Where is what?
His sweaty chest rose and fell in a fury alongside his unsteady breath. My wine. My vessel is not where I left it.
You probably sold it for coin to gamble on the gladiator games.
I know you or your whore of a mother took it.
Her blue eyes iced over with hatred for the man before her. How dare he talk of her mother in such vulgar terms.
My mother, she spat. Poured your precious wine into the culvert.
Without warning his soiled hand came crashing down across her face, followed by the coppery taste of fresh blood as it poured into her mouth. She waited and watched as her father stumbled out of the room, no doubt in pursuit of her mother.
With a sigh of relief, she brought the hem of her sleeping cover to her lip, in an attempt to stop the bleeding. For now he was gone, and she might be able to get a few hours of sleep.
The rough fabric against her wounded lip stung.It had taken a long time for her injury to heal from their last incident. Pulling back the cloth, she looked down at the dark crimson stain.
The muffled sounds of an argument began to slowly increase in volume and echo through their small home. She lay back down, pressing the cloth to her mouth as she tried to tune out her parents angry shouts.
Soon the boldness in her mothers tone dwindled into pleas begging for understanding. Instead, she listened as her father shouted profanities and sent her mothers body

crashing into a wall. This argument, by the sounds of it, had gone too far.

Without concern for decency, she leapt from her bed and ran to their room. The first thing she saw as she turned the corner was her mothers body lying crumpled, half against the wall and half propped over an empty barrel. Blood oozed rapidly out of a fresh wound on her head. The only sign of life was the slow twitching motion of her hand. By the time she realized how serious her mothers condition was the movement was so faint she had to strain her eyes to see it.

Mother! she screamed, diving forward.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and held her back. She struggled and kicked. She needs me, shes dying. For the love of the gods let me to her side! No mercy was granted. Instead, she watched as the movement ceased and her mothers spirit left their tormented world and traveled away from her, forever.

Struggling to free her arms, she fought against herslave bindings, it felt as though it were her father holding her back once more.

One of the guards noticed her attempt and slammed the hilt of his sword into her stomach. The blow forced her backwards, knocking the wind from her lungs. She thrust her leg out attempting to maintain her footing, but instead of the hot sand, she landed on the leg of another. Losing balance, she toppled to the ground, causing the chain of girls to come crashing down after her.

Rough hands grabbed at them and forced them back on their feet. The cries of the others filled her ears as the guards took the opportunity to use violence on the women.

On your feet, one of them grunted.

Another kicked a small girl while she struggled to stand.
He knew she was not able to force herself up with her hands
bound behind her back and with a rope around her neck. But
he didnt care. A feeling of brute power coursed through his
veins as he beat the girl.
Anger and guilt pounded on the drums of her heart as she
watched the poor girl struggle. It was because of her actions
that the girl was suffering. Just as it was her fault, for hiding
her fathers wine, that her mother had died. The weight of the
burden was too great, and she knew that she could no longer
endure loss on her account.
Leave her alone! she yelled in a foolish act of bravery.
Somehow managing to shift onto her knees and stagger up to
a standing position. Tangled, dirt incrusted locks of her once
fine auburn hair fell across her face and hid the hesitant look
of fear in her eyes. No doubt the guards would punish her for
being defiant. But all that concerned her now was helping the
girl.
What did you say? He snapped his attention away from
the battered girl and started toward her.
The other guards snickered to themselves as they stood
back to watch the new drama unfold. Upon seeing the way he
preyed upon her one of the men warned, Easy Kaeso, What is her status? Kaeso barked in question, ignoring
the warning and not even turning to address the man.A young guard ran forward with a slate tablet firmly in his
hands. Each of his steps set off an awkward clatter of banging
metal as his armor floated about his weak form. Next to
Kaesos magnitude he looked to be a child, but in truth he
was no less in years than she was.
The guard hurriedly read over the tablet, not wanting to

risk Kaesos wrath for keeping him waiting. His eyes scanned over the inventory list until he found what he was looking for. She is named Sellah. A Vindobonian girl from the house of Katarius, and she is 18 years.

Kaeso held his head high as he looked over the girl that refused to cower under his towering stance. Well SellahKatarius, I do believe you owe me an apology. He hoped to humiliate her for the humiliation she had brought upon him.

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