Jin’s Army
The carriage rolled along the muddy road. Yiran felt every bump they hit, as the horses struggled to keep a steady pace. He’d grown up in winters such as this. A mix of mud and snow made the country roads impassable this time of year. The crooked trees above swayed under the winds of Austpolian winter, shedding the final remnants of their autumn leaves.
Under normal circumstances, Yiran would’ve welcomed the mild wind as a change to the monotonous scenery. But waking up tied in an open-cage carriage didn’t qualify as normal circumstances.
Yiran tried to piece together what had happened to him in the past few days. He remembered them coming to his father’s estate in the night. A fire broke out in the stables. Commotion followed as the ragged band of men broke into the understaffed keep. The Hexans did their best to defend themselves, but they were outnumbered. The family guard wasn’t there to help.
Yiran was never good with the blade. Usually, he would leave the fighting to his brothers. He’d do the negotiating after. But this time he fought, as best he could. He fought to defend the Hexan house against the odds. He remembered cold steel piercing through his side. He hadn’t had the time to feel the pain before he fell into darkness. And now he found himself here in this cage. Trapped like an animal.
He ran a hand through the wound at his side. It had been cauterized, the bleeding had stopped. But the numb pain remained. Though it was the worst of his wounds, it wasn’t the only one, Yiran discovered. As he regained his full senses, he could now feel his body with full clarity. His feet were bound together with a chain, his ankles badly bruised. His torso felt like it had gone through a grain mill. Several ribs had been broken, he concluded as he struggled to lift himself against the carriage wall. He touched his face and couldn’t help but grimace from the sting. He looked at his hand - soaked in fresh blood. Whoever his captor was, it seemed they wanted him alive, but couldn’t resist their fun either.
“Would you look at that, boys,” a voice came from outside the carriage. “Looks like the worm’s awake.”
Yiran looked in the voice’s direction with disdain. A scruffy-looking man was walking alongside the carriage, together with two others. They were all dressed in coarse leather clothes and carried unkempt beards and mud on their faces. Though Yiran had grown up sheltered in the Hexan family estate, he was well aware of the overwhelming common opinion of dragonfolk outside his father’s lands. This part of Vastinia had never been too fond of his kind. No matter, he thought to himself. He was a Hexan and he would carry himself as one - with dignity.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked in a cold, commanding voice.
“Did you hear that, Rodrick?” the man who spoke previously looked at one of the others - a portly fellow. “The worm can speak!”
“Aye, he can too,” Rodrick responded.
“I demand to know where we are going!” Yiran repeated.
“He demands, eh, Rodrick. Ha, the little worm demands!” The man took his club and delivered a quick blow to Yiran’s head through the cage. Yiran saw it coming, but couldn’t move out of reach fast enough. The hit landed on his forehead and he cocked his head back. The taste of blood filled his mouth. “Listen, worm boy, you ain't demanding nothin’ from us. You’ll sit there and be quiet the rest of the way and maybe we keep you alive. You lot ain't in charge no more.”
That last sentence hit Yiran hard. The pain in those words was far worse than what his body felt. He knew the man was right. The Hexans were no more. For all he knew, he was the only one left. Regardless, he wasn’t about to drop his head to these barbarians.
“Why am I bound?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Rodrick said with a yellow grin.
Yiran noticed the third man who walked behind the carriage. He was much younger than the other two, no more than 18 years old. His innocent eyes regarded Yiran with curiosity and pity. As the boy realised Yiran had seen him, he quickly looked away.
“You there, boy, what is your name? Will you tell me where we are headed?”
“I thought I told you to be quiet,” the first man grunted as he pulled on a chain hanging from the carriage door. Yiran only now realised the chain was connected to a ring around his neck. It pulled him towards the metal bars. The last thing he heard was a loud crack reverberating in his skull.
When Yiran woke it was already dark outside. The carriage wasn’t moving. He grabbed the cage bars and pulled himself up with a grunt. The horses were unhitched and resting.
In the distance, Yiran saw a campfire and five men sitting around it. He could hear muted conversation and laughter, but he couldn’t feel the fire’s heat. He suddenly realised that he was shaking from the cold. He looked around the cage and all he could find was a damp coarse blanket that had almost certainly never been washed. He took it with reluctance and threw it over his shoulders. He had to stay alive if he was to stand a chance to get out of this predicament.
As the shaking subsided, he sat as close to the camp as he could and tried to listen in on the conversation. It was difficult to follow and he only got parts of sentences as he tried to piece together information on what had happened to his family. The little he heard was of no use to him.
“Go check on the lordling,” he heard a voice say. One of the figures from around the campfire stood up and headed towards him. Yiran noticed the familiar face of the youth who had walked behind the carriage earlier.
“Hullo, Mr. Hexan,” the boy said. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” Yiran replied.
“I brought you some food. Rabbit stew. It ain’t much but that’s what we got today,” the boy said as he reached out a steaming bowl.
“Thank you.” Yiran took the bowl with both hands, careful not to spill a drop. He couldn’t remember the last meal he had. He ate slowly, careful not to reveal just how hungry he was. Regardless of whether he was in a cage or not, he was going to behave in a gentlemanly manner.
“My name’s Cal.”
“Yiran Hexan. But I imagine you already knew that.”
“Yes,” the boy said as he sat next to the carriage. “They told me you was important.”
“Huh… Not anymore by the looks of it,” Yiran said with a wry smile, raising an eyebrow towards his chains. “What is the meaning of all this? What happened at the Hexan estate and why am I still alive?” He took another gulp of the rabbit stew, his stomach rumbling as he did. There was a bitter taste he could not quite identify. But his starving brain didn’t pay it much attention. He focused on Cal’s youthful face.
“Black Blade said you might be useful. He said he’s made a deal for you.”
“A deal with whom? For what purpose?”
“I can’t say,” Cal looked away.
“At least tell me this - did anyone survive the assault? Is my family alive?”
“I don’t know for sure, they wouldn’t tell me these things. I heard Black Blade got the old ones. I don’t know about any of the others.”
Yiran’s heart sank. He’d suspected that his parents didn’t make it, but to have the confirmation here was too painful. He put down the empty bowl and leaned back with a mournful look in his eyes. If what this boy said was true, it meant that he was probably one of the last Hexans alive. It was now twice as important for him to survive. To find a way out of this cage and to seek revenge.
“Why are you doing this, Cal? You seem like a nice lad. Why are you with these people?” He asked, throwing a sharp gaze towards the camp, his harsh draconic accent coming through like a knife to the grindstone.
“I got no choice, mister. My dad left us with nothin’. I had to feed my mum and my sisters. Farm work is hard and it also doesn’t pay. One day Black Blade came to our village, rounding up the boys to join him. He said he’d take care of us. I believed him. And now I’m here.”
“We always have a choice, Cal. You can choose to let me go. You must know where they keep the keys to these manacles.” Yiran said lifting his bound hands towards the youth, trying to ignore the sharp pain rising in his stomach.
“No, no, I can’t,” Cal shook his head vigorously.
“You don’t have to do anything, Cal. Just let me know who has the keys. Is it Rodrick?”
“You don’t understand. Black Blade… He uses dark magic. He’ll know I helped you. He’ll have my sisters. I’ve already said too much… I have to go.” Cal stood up, ready to leave.
“No, Cal. Stay! You know this isn’t right -” Yiran said, his voice sounding somehow distant in his head. He felt his consciousness almost leave his body. It was as if he was looking at himself from above. He leaned back towards the metal bars, heavy breaths coming in and out as his heart beat faster.
Cal stopped and turned, tears running down his face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hexan… They made me do it.”
“Made you… do… what?” Yiran whispered as numbness took over his body.
“They made me bring you the soup. They said we needed you quiet… I’m sorry. I couldn’t say no. They made do it…” Cal broke down sobbing.
Yiran heard Cal’s voice as if from far away. He could barely open his mouth at this point. Moving was out of the question. The poison was shutting down his muscles one by one. As he lay there paralyzed he wondered when his heart would give out. Why would they kill me like this, he thought as darkness took him.
* * *
He gasped awake. The cold, biting wind was gone. At first, he thought it had all been a dream. He had woken up back in the Hexan manor and all was good. He opened his eyes and looked around the dark, dim interior of his new prison. The air was thick with salt and mildew. Water dripped somewhere, the rhythmic thuds enough to break the silence around him. He drew a ragged breath, feeling the broken ribs rub against his lungs. A sharp pain cut through his side. He pressed a hand to the wound and felt fresh blood. No, it wasn’t a dream. But he wasn’t dead either.
He forced himself to sit up, gritting his teeth in the process. He stood still to let the pain subside. He noticed the ground sway gently to and fro. The distant sound of creaking wood confirmed what he already suspected - he was on a ship.
A door at the far end of the room swung open, flooding the room with harsh daylight. Yiran blinked several times, trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden glare. He heard a mix of sailor shouts, seagulls and waves crashing against the ship’s hull. He saw two men step inside, their dark silhouettes blocking most of the light.
“Look at that. Worm boy’s up and breathing,” one sneered, his voice rough like a weathered rope. He nodded to his companion, who stepped forward.
“Captain wants to see you.”
They dragged Yiran to his feet and shoved him in front as they all walked above deck. He felt every bruise in his body as he took each step - a walking bag of pain. The initial relief of being alive gave way to dread. How much more did fate have in store for him?
The sunlight made him squint and put his hand up to his eyes as he adjusted to day again. On the deck, sailors paused to stare as they passed. Waiting for them near the ship’s helm was a man in a dark green uniform. He stepped down from the ship’s wheel with authority. Underneath his captain’s hat, a white stripe cut through his raven-black hair. He approached Yiran slowly, his gaze looked him up and down.
As the man got closer, he grabbed Yiran’s jaw and looked straight into his yellow dragon eyes. Yiran didn’t flinch. He stared the captain down with quiet resolve. He had nothing to lose but his pride. The captain tilted his face with cold detachment - as if he was looking at a trinket he had just bought. He poked at Yiran’s wounds, inspected his teeth and slapped him on the cheek with approval. “Yes, this’ll do.”
He turned to the sailors who brought Yiran here and barked out their orders:
“Clean him up, find him some decent clothes. And dress that wound. I don’t want him bleeding all over my ship.”
The man looked at him again, his voice sharp. “Your name?”
“Yiran Hexan,” he answered proudly.
The captain smiled mockingly and nodded his head. “Well, Yiran Hexan, you’re on cleaning duty until that hole on your side there closes up,” he pointed at his wound. “After that, I have other plans for you.”
The captain turned and headed for the helm, his voice booming as he walked:
“You’re in Jin’s army now, boy.”
