The Dragon's Slave

Annabelle woke to the trumpets blaring from the castle turrets. She sat upright in her bed and looked around with wild eyes. The doors to her chambers burst open and two guards rushed inside.

“It’s time to leave Princess. The walls have been breached.”

Annabelle gasped in fear as she scrambled up from her bed and pulled her boots on. A plain, black cloak was placed around her shoulders and she followed the guards out of her chambers. People were milling about, some crying and some guiding others to safety.

“Where is my father?”

The guard she knew as Lisbon turned slightly to speak to her. “He’s on the northern wall, he instructed that you be taken to safety.”

Annabelle’s head snapped to the back as she heard women scream and Lisbon grabbed her arm and dragged her into a room. She was pushed back into the shadows and then Lisbon’s face appeared in front of her.

“Dirty your dress Princess and don’t tell them who you are. You’ll be killed. Claim to be a slave and your life will be spared and hopefully one day you can escape.”

She had barely had time to process his words when the door burst open and ten warriors spilled into the room. Lisbon and the other guard fought bravely but two against ten had never before been fair. Annabelle cowered in the corner, her head buried against her knees.

“What have we here?” A loud voice had her looking up.

“Take her to the slave quarters, the one we’re looking for has black hair.”

“What’s your name wench?”

Annabelle swallowed her fear. “Se … Serena.”

“Where’s the princess?”

Annabelle shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “I .. I don’t know my lord, she might have left the castle already.”

Annabelle was grabbed by rough hands and thrown over someone’s shoulder. A hand landed on her bottom and squeezed it. She kicked out and the man slapped her bottom hard. “Play nice or I might make you regret it. I can teach you to like the pain little one.”

Annabelle froze and the man laughed as she lay quietly over his shoulder. She could hear the dying screams of men around her, smell their blood and many bodies littered the hallways. She heard the roar of a dragon as it died and the clanging of swords.

“Your King’s dead, slave. You belong to Lord Waller now.”

Dizziness took over as she was placed on the ground and shackles placed around her wrists. Her father’s dead body was nailed to the cross in the middle of the courtyard with his head on a spike next to him. She stifled the scream as sobs wracked through her body.

She heard the rattle of a chain and then she was pulled forward. The man on the horse was pulling her out of the courtyard and she had to adjust her step to keep from falling down and being dragged behind him.

When her legs finally gave in, her lips cracked from lack of moisture and her wrists chafed raw, the man stopped his horse and she noticed for the first time the many other horsed men dragging slaves behind them.

All the men had been killed and the younger women taken as slaves. The were tied to another length of chain that had been fastened around a tree. Annabelle sat down on the ground and rested her throbbing feet.

They were fed a watery broth and handed a cup of water. They slept like that through the night, half sitting upright against one another, exhaustion making them compliant. She was pulled up roughly again the next morning as the chains were separated and they were forced to start walking again.

Silent tears crept across Annabelle’s cheeks as they marched towards who knew where for the rest of that day. The guards weren’t cruel but they weren’t gentle either. One woman was slapped unconscious when she didn’t move fast enough and Annabelle hurried along for fear of getting the same treatment.

The second night progressed much as the first, the watery broth with a cup of water, which Annabelle gulped down. There was no such thing as privacy or a latrine bucket and she was forced to relieve herself where she squatted among the other women.

On the third day she saw a wooden board along the road that marked the town’s name. They were headed to Tarkanzyn. An hour later they were marched through the gates of a large estate and taken to the back of the castle.

A woman with a harsh looking mole on her upper lip stood by the kitchen door with a servant who held a scroll and a writing feather. “Gather around wenches. Give your name and age to Mrs Mueller and you will be assigned your new positions. If you try to escape or run away your punishment will be such that you’ll wish you were dead instead.”

Annabelle stood in line, her feet burning and she was sure she had blisters on them. She’d never before walked that far in her life and she was tired and hungry, filthy and afraid. She reached the front of the line and the woman looked sternly at her.

“Name?”

“Serena. I’m … I’m fifteen.”

“You’ll go to the laundry room.”

Annabelle nodded her head and she was herded inside to the courtyard. There were different women with lines of slaves in front of them. They were directed to stand in their respective lines where they received their uniforms and were told where they would sleep.

Annabelle received the thin smock of a dress that she’d be wearing while doing the castle’s laundry. At least she’d be out of sight for most of the day and she felt that that was at least a small reprieve. She had no idea how to do laundry but she’d learn if it meant she’d stay alive.

After her group had received their uniforms they were herded inside and down winding stairs that led to a basement of sorts. Steam greeted her as she walked inside where a multitude of other women were busy washing, pressing and rubbing stains from the laundry.

“Find yourself someone to show you the ropes and get to working!”

Annabelle moved through the throng of women and looked for someone that seemed friendly at least. One woman stood with her hand on her hip as she looked at Annabelle. “Come here new girl. This needs scrubbing and be careful not to ruin the lady’s lace.”

Annabelle looked at the lace dress lying on the stone slab and had no idea what to do. The woman returned and sighed audibly, took the bar of white soap and started rubbing it over the stain. Annabelle watched as she scrubbed, rinsed, scrubbed and rinsed again.

“Get a move on girl, or there’ll be no supper for you if you don’t finish this load.”

Annabelle worked for the next few hours without reprieve only to be scolded that she’d washed the master’s cloaks in warm water when it should’ve been washed in cold water and that now the cloaks would’ve shrunk.

She was slapped a few times and pushed around as she got in people’s way and that night she got no supper, just like she’d been warned. Annabelle felt like crying. Her hands were raw and bleeding, her stomach was empty and she had lost all hope.