Darkness wrapped around Mira like a suffocating cocoon. She felt like she should be alarmed but couldn’t even summon the energy it took to open her eyes. She slept on. Her dreams were of helplessness. Of being violated. Despite her terror, she didn’t even possess the will to struggle. She slept on, hoping her nightmare would end soon.

  From within her personal darkness, another dream took shape. This one was about a stone house with a barren gravel courtyard with weeds growing against the walls. Mira dreamt that she was being carried sideways, almost like she was floating. She still couldn’t open her eyes, but she could almost feel the sunlight. Her cocoon was still there. She couldn’t move. She could hear men talking but couldn’t understand what was said. Something cold and hard hit her all along her left side, shocking her towards wakefulness. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t wake up. Knowing she couldn’t wake up really wasn’t disturbing her, though. A part of Mira wanted to keep on sleeping forever rather than wake up and face it.

  Mira heard men’s voices again. This time she could understand that they were bartering over something, but a man couldn’t see what he was buying. Spinning and dizziness, then dull pain as something hit the left side of her entire body again. She could sense light and tried to open her eyes. Only a blurry image came to her through her barely open eyes. Boots. She was looking at several pairs of boots on a wood floor.

  “Is her maidenhood intact?” a man asked.

  “Not anymore,” Jamor said in a falsely regretful tone. “See how good she looks naked, though?”

  Jamor? Was he talking about her?

  “Certainly. She’ll fetch a lower price at auction because she’s no longer pure, however. Surely you understand,” the man said. “I can offer no more than twenty.”

  “She’s strong, both of body and of will,” Jamor said. “She’s worth every bit of thirty.”

  There was a minute of silence as the other man considered. “Thirty pieces of gold it is, then. Pay the man and get her ready for sale,” he said to some close by.

  “Thanks. Nice doing business with you,” Jamor said.

  This must be a dream, Mira thought, shutting her eyes again. Boots sounded all around her moving this way and that. Darkness beckoned and Mira didn’t resist.

  Tugging on her neck. Rough hands clenching her hair. Her head being pressed against something hard. The rhythmic clanging of a smith’s hammer. Rough hands grabbed her and suddenly she realized she had been thrown over someone’s shoulder. Mira was now aware that something was terribly wrong. She wasn’t asleep anymore, but she couldn’t move, either. She couldn’t feel any sort of restraints. She wasn't tied up. Her mind was fuzzy and sluggish as she tried to make sense of what was happening to her.

  Mira was carried down a hallway and into a room where she was dropped very suddenly onto the cold, stone floor. Her head bounced against the cold surface, and she briefly saw spots. The man attached a chain to a collar on her neck. There was a collar on her neck! Mira gasped in fear and slowly opened her eyes. She was in a very dark room. The only light came in from the open door, and even that wasn’t plentiful. She could see what looked like a family huddled together on the other side of the room, all naked, and all chained to the wall by collars around their necks. There were three sailors in the room as well. The posture of each person was dejected. Hopeless. They all hung their heads low and two men hugged their knees. It looked like they hoped no one would notice them. The man who brought her there turned and left, shutting and locking the door firmly, shutting out the light.

  Mira struggled and fought, but she could only move her arms a little bit. She seemed to spasm from time to time as she tried to regain control of her body. She could tell she was making progress, though, so she kept trying. A long time passed during which she could hear whimpering of children, shuffling movement that make chains clink, but finally Mira was able to regain control of her limbs. She tried to use the shadow magic to merge with the darkness and travel through it, but the collar and iron chain kept her right where she was. Knowing her shadow magic was useless and that she had no components for any of her other spells, she dragged herself against the wall and hugged her knees tightly, trying not to lose control. She was completely naked and didn’t even have her G.A.S.P. or bracelet. Because of her muddled mental state, she finally realized she could only be there if Jamor, her Jamor, had drugged her and sold her into slavery. She wept as silently as she could, but she was heartbroken. How could she have been such a fool?

  A short time later the heavy door opened, and several men came into the cell. They were all ruffians except for one. He was a small man dressed in a suit of expensive, tailored clothes, he had very short, brown hair and a small goatee, and he carried a limp wooden doll that had metal joints. The doll was completely featureless aside from the fact that it was made from oak and iron and looked freshly lacquered. The man looked at each of his captives, considering things to himself. He pointed at the mother of the family across from Mira.

  “Her first. Then him,” the man said, pointing to the husband. He then pointed at each person in turn around the room, then at Mira and the two children last. “Get them ready.”

  The slavers with the Doll Man, as Mira thought of him now, began roughly kicking and shouting at everyone until they got up. Mira was very embarrassed to be naked in front of these lecherous thugs, but she got up and tried to hide herself the best she could. She looked down at the floor until a ruffian came close to take her chain off the collar. When he had done so, she punched him in the throat and then kicked him in the groin as hard as she could. She knew it wasn’t a good escape plan, but she couldn’t help herself. The thug dropped to the ground, clutching at his throat and his privates. Three thugs were on her instantly, punching brutally.

  “Stop!” the Doll Man yelled.

  The blows instantly stopped coming in, but Mira kept her arms up in front of her head, still trying to protect her face.

  “How many times do I have to tell you louts not to damage the goods?!” the Doll Man shouted. “Damn it! Now look what you did. Her eyes are already in the bruising process.”

  Mira could feel her lower lip was split, and she could taste the blood in her mouth. She wasn’t done fighting, though. It must have showed in her posture, and it certainly showed in the string of vile curses she hurled at the Doll Man. When she was done, he actually laughed.

  “That last one was inventive,” he said. He paused as all the mirth drained from his face to be replaced with hate. “You’ve lost. There’s no hope for you now, you know. You’re going to walk where you’re directed, and you’re going to be sold to the highest bidder, girl. I own you now.”

  “You don’t own me, you little rat bastard,” Mira said. She spat a mouthful of blood at him, staining his pants.

  His face colored red and he held up his doll like it was a weapon. Mira could feel some sort of magical force take control of her body. Her arms went to her sides, and she stood straight, exactly like the doll was. The man fixed his attention on the wooden doll momentarily, and its arms lifted above its head. Mira’s arms lifted above her head, mimicking the doll’s movements perfectly. Terrified, Mira’s eyes bulged. She struggled mightily, but there was nothing she could do. Her body stayed in the same rigid posture as the doll.

  “I think you’re going to go first after all,” the Doll Man said. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth. Get the rest of them in line, if you clowns think you can manage that.”

  The ruffians sprang into action, working a long chain specially made to clip onto the iron collars all the slaves wore. Mira was first on the chain and she stood there helplessly with her hands at her sides, completely under the Doll Man’s power. When all the slaves were attached securely to the chain, the Doll Man addressed the slaves.

  “One final warning,” he said calmly. “If any of you so much as lifts a finger or ruins my auction for me, I will make you claw out your own eyes and eat them.”

  He then stepped to Mira’s side and made the doll walk. Her body mimicked the movements, and the string of slaves moved out of the room and down a short hallway. Mira’s heart sank when they walked through a doorway into a large, dirt courtyard. Scanning her surroundings, she could see the courtyard was securely enclosed with high walls. A crowd of rough looking men and a few women were sitting near the walls, each with a mug or goblet in their hands. Conversation slowed, then stopped as the patrons scanned the new acquisitions, looking for something they needed. Mira wanted to cover herself badly. She had never been so helpless, so naked, before such a hostile group of eyes. The Doll Man noted the condition of Mira’s face in the light of the setting sun and tilted the doll’s head down. Mira’s head tilted down, moving her hair to cover her rapidly bruising eyes and part of her bloody lip. The slaves were lined up in a row, heads down, just objects to be bought and sold.

  Mira began trembling. She couldn’t help herself. Part of her mind shut down with shock as she was made to step out in front of the crowd and slowly turn in a circle. People were leering and making bids on her. She turned one direction and found herself looking at Kromwell and Bermin through her tangled hair. They didn’t recognize her through the blood and bruising, it seemed, and she thanked God for that. She tried not to look at them again. If Kromwell recognized her and bought her, she knew well what terrible fate awaited. It was too much for her. Mira fainted, her head hanging loosely as the Doll Man forced her body into a seductive pose.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  -----

  Mira awoke to a kick in the ribs. She was lying on her back in the dirt. She opened her eyes to see a withered old woman in a gaudy amount of jewelry and four ruffians standing over her. Mira’s hands were shackled together and chained to her collar. Two of the ruffians grabbed her by her upper arms and lifted her to stand before the old woman, who looked like a cautionary tale a mother would tell her daughter about not becoming addicted to wine. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose was swollen and red, and her skin sagged everywhere. She was a beautiful woman once, Mira surmised, but time and too much drink had ruined her looks completely.

  “I’d better not have any trouble out of you, you little tart,” she said, holding a finger under Mira’s nose. “If I do, I’ll make you regret it. You’ll call me Mama, and I own you now. Your old life is over. Over. Best you understand that. No one’s ever escaped from Kraken’s Rock, either. Your life and your future are mine to do with as I please. Just you think about that for a while.”

  Mama turned and walked away. Mira nearly fainted again with the realization that she was now owned by the madam of the Maidenhall. Her body would be sold to be used by everyone who had the coin for it. How had her life come to this? The two men pulled her along with them, lifting her by the arms and letting her feet drag behind. Being dragged became painful, and out of reflex Mira began walking for herself. The two men didn’t loosen their grip on her arms, though. The group walked two buildings away to the Maidenhall and the pirates along the way only leered at her nudity as if it was a normal thing. Mira knew they’d never help her. The group entered the Maidenhall through the back door. There was a guard posted inside sitting on a stool that barely looked up from the game of cards he was playing by himself on a little table.

  The room was small, and there were four exits from it. There were two doors that were shut and one stairway that went both up and down. Mama and the two bigger ruffians went up the stairs, but the two ruffians holding Mira took her down the stairs. The level below ground was musty and had black mold on the stone walls. There was a short passageway that had a few doors on the left and there was a door at the end of the hall. They dragged Mira into the door at the end, which was only punctuated by a single, small window that was far too small for any human to fit through. The entire room was built with stone blocks, even the floor. There were three straw pallets in the room situated in the center of each of three walls, each of which had a sturdy iron ring set into it. Each iron ring had a chain attached to it that was only long enough to reach down to the floor a pace away from the wall. The place smelled strongly of urine and mold.

  The ruffians threw Mira roughly onto the pallet directly before the door, rapping her head against the wall sharply. Mira tried not to gasp with the pain. One of the men held her down, her shoulders pinned to the floor, as the other unlocked the padlock that was attached to her collar and to the chain that ran to her shackles, then added the chain to the iron ring on that sturdy assembly. Mira’s head spun as she thought about her predicament. She was shackled to the wall by her neck with almost no mobility, her wrists were shackled and held together by a six-inch chain, which was attached to a two-foot-long chain that was attached to the thick padlock on her collar. She couldn’t even reach her waist unless she was curled into a very tight ball, and she couldn’t fully extend her arms. There wasn’t a single thing that could be used as a tool to pick the locks on the padlock or the wrist shackles, and she didn’t have a stich of clothing to protect her from the cold damp of this dungeon.

  “Please don’t do this!” Mira pleaded. “I don’t deserve this!”

  “No one does,” one of the men said gruffly. He was as soulless as they come.

  “It’s your lot in life now, though, so you may as well get used to the idea,” said the other.

  One of the men yanked hard on each chain and shackle, making sure everything was secure. When he was finished, he got up and the two men left. There was a heavy lock on the door to this room that Mira heard click into place. There was no escape.

  Mira lay there on her side, curled up in a ball on the stinking pallet. The cloth covering the straw was dirty, even moldy in places, and still had stains from the last unfortunate soul that occupied it. She was battered and bruised all over, and her eyes were swelling shut. Her stomach growled with hunger. It must have been an entire day since she’d eaten or drank anything, and her mouth was very dry. Her memory was very fuzzy after that last goblet of wine. That had to be it. Tibek had put something in her wine after he had knocked her goblet over. Jamor was part of it, though, and that part hurt the most. She trusted him completely, and he was the one negotiating her price with the Doll Man. His voice was casual, like he was bargaining for a pair of shoes. Mira couldn’t help herself. She broke down into wracking sobs as she dwelt on the memories of her betrayal over and over. The last rays of the sun faded, leaving her in complete darkness.

  -----

  Mira woke to a cold, gray light coming through the tiny window. A long time later, the lock clicked on the door, which opened to reveal a young woman wearing a very loose, knee length dress. She had an iron collar like Mira, and she was holding a goblet in one hand. Two men entered the room with her, leering at Mira with cruelty in their eyes. They were the typical sort of men found in this town. The only difference between them and the usual pirates was that they were not armed with swords or daggers, but with wooden clubs. Mira pushed her back against the wall and curled up into a little ball.

  The young woman approached with the goblet held out before her. “Here’s some water.”

  Mira didn’t move to accept the goblet.

  “It’s really just water,” the woman said.

  Mira looked away, keeping her arms close to her head protectively.

  “Suit yourself,” the woman said, and she left.

  The two men left with her, locking the door behind her.

  Mira was left alone for a long time with her thoughts. She turned all the events of the last several weeks over and over in her mind, looking for clues she had missed of Jamor’s duplicity. He was very good at gaining her trust. In the end, she had given him all the command words to the golems and the operation of the Unseen Blade, which were effectively the keys to her kingdom. All three of the betrayers were probably on the Blade right now looking for a ship to plunder, and the thought made her angry. Then her thoughts turned to how gentle he was, and how handsome he was, and how he had seemed to put her needs first, and she began to cry again.

  -----

  “She refused to even drink water for the second day straight? Did you give her the good food?” Mama asked.

  “Yes, Mama,” the young woman said. “It was all still there this morning.”

  “This is going to be a tough one,” Mama said. “Normally they let us do something nice for them by now.” She stroked her bony chin as she thought. “Maybe she hasn’t had her fill of misfortune yet.” Mama turned to one of the two guards standing beside her slave. “Bafu, you’re up. Beat her and rape her. Claren, give her a couple of hours before you come in to offer food and water again.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Bafu and Claren said in unison.

  Bafu replied with noticeably more enthusiasm then Claren did, however. He was the worst sort of man, cruel and evil, and he liked being that way. Bafu was only happy when he was violent. He enjoyed making people hurt more than anything in the world.

  Claren was different. She was taken as a child, separated from her parents in slavery, and forced into the sex trade. She was a product of Mama’s tried and true mental manipulation, and now Claren would willingly make others like herself without a qualm. Young women like Mira would be beaten, raped, possibly tortured, and shown a little kindness here and there until their will broke down and Mama molded the girl into someone who would allow even the most violent men to violate her body without complaint and without being physically chained. It was a complicated thing that Mama did to young women, and it almost always worked.

  Bafu left the room with a feral grin and made his way down to the basement cell. He unlocked the cell and stepped inside, drawing his club. Mira stopped crying when she heard the door open and put her back against the wall. Because of the tears and swelling Mira couldn’t see much, but she saw the hungry look in Bafu’s eyes, and she knew what he was here for. Mira brought her arms up to cover her head as he approached with his club in his hand. Bafu beat Mira with the club all over her arms and legs without any care for how she cried out. He held back only a little because he didn’t want to break any bones. When he was breathing heavily and Mira was curled up limply on the pallet, he paused, putting his club back on his belt. He grabbed her ankles and yanked her legs straight, one on either side of where he knelt, then began working the laces to his breeches.

  Sobbing, every part of her arms and legs hurting, Mira mentally braced herself for what had to happen next. Bafu had his pants down to his knees and he leaned forward to force himself on her. Mira had moved back against the wall during the beating, and she had enough slack with the chains to suddenly reach forward and grab both sides of his face. She stuck her thumbs into his eyes and pressed in as hard as she could.

  Bafu screamed in pain, leaned back, and yanked her hands away from his face. One of his eyes was bleeding, possibly ruined. Mira tried to get her legs around his torso and wrestle him in closer where she was trying to reach him again to strangle him with her chain, but Bafu was no stranger to these sorts of struggles. He pulled back powerfully, throwing Mira’s legs off of him.

  “You bitch,” Bafu said, his face a hateful mask. “You’ll pay dearly for that, you will.”

  He pulled his pants back up, buckled his belt, and drew his club. Mira’s eyes widened in fear. Bafu struck Mira as hard as he could. She tried to defend herself with her forearms and legs, but he kept on. Mira felt her right forearm break and cried out with that agony, but he didn’t stop. He specifically targeted her shins and broke her right shin with a loud crack. Mira curled up into a ball, trying to protect herself, but even then, he didn’t stop. Bafu kept beating her until her right arm and leg rolled around uselessly at unnatural angles and then started breaking ribs while Mira lay helplessly on her left side. Bafu didn’t stop until Mira was unconscious and bleeding from her cheek, mouth and nose. Her arm and leg were swelling to double their normal size already when he nodded in satisfaction. Bafu left the cell to find Claren waiting in the hallway with a goblet of water.

  “She won’t be needin’ that for a while,” Bafu said nastily.

  Claren let him pass by, then looked inside the cell for herself. She saw the unnatural crookedness of Mira’s right arm and leg and gasped. Despite all that she had seen and suffered herself, Claren had never seen a beating this bad. She approached and found that Mira was still breathing, though shallowly and rapidly. Shaking her head to clear it of the image, Claren climbed to her feet and left, locking the door behind her.

  -----

  The heavy lock clacked, and the cell door opened. Mama stepped into the cell with two of her bodyguards, one of which held a lamp, and walked over to Mira to take a closer look. Claren followed her inside. Mira lay in a heap on the pallet, completely bruised from head to toe on the right side of her body. Her arm and leg looked like reddish, purple sausages that bent too many ways. Mama bent over, peering intently, and shook her head.

  “Nothing to be done now except feed her to the dogs,” Mama said. Her many bracelets and necklaces rattled as she straightened.

  “She may recover, Mama,” Claren said. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks.”

  Mama stood over Mira and considered. “If she does recover, she’d be turned more easily,” Mama said to herself. “Maybe my gold won’t have been wasted after all. Very well, Claren, dear. You may feed her and try to nurse her back to health. I won’t hold it against you if you fail.”

  “As you wish, Mama,” Claren said.

  Mama turned to one of her guards. “Go show Bafu what happens to those who mistreat my property.”