The Seven-Year Voyage

Darius reached down, and rattled the shackles around his ankle. Bolted tight. He looked around. He knew he was in the hold of a ship, but it was so dark he could barely make out the shape of the other bodies around him. His head ached, and Darius reached up to touch a bump forming on his right temple. That must have been where they struck him.

The Rashadim. Invaders from the Isharrah Desert, a scorching ocean of sand south of the Mahraqan wasteland. The Rashadim were powerful, ruthless, and deadly. And recently they had taken to the sea, developing an armada of their own. Darius had heard of the dreaded Rashadim Dhows on the Erith Sea, but never dreamt they could come as far north as Tarsium.

That was where Darius was from. A port city on the south coast of Novaria. He had a small estate just outside of the city, where he lived with his wife Cassia and little boy Lucan. Darius was a merchant, and frequently traded goods with Valnour, across the Erith sea. It was a journey he was used to. Not without its dangers, mind you. The ocean was never a safe place. But the dangers were always weather-related, which you could watch and prepare for.

But this? Invaders from the south? It was unheard of. And yet it had happened. Three days out to sea, his vessel was attacked, boarded, and taken over. Darius tried to resist, but he was no warrior. The Rashadim were ruthless. After they killed the first mate, the rest of the crew surrendered immediately, including Darius. He was just watching the ship put to flames when he was struck on the temple, and everything went dark.

And now he was below deck on some strange vessel. It must be a Rashadim Dhow, he thought to himself. His eyes were growing used to the dark, and he heard footsteps overhead.

“Where are you from?” a voice called out in the darkness. Darius looked forward, and made out the shape of a man sitting across from him in the shadows.

“Tarsium,” Darius replied, and the man nodded.

“Hmm. A merchant?”

Darius nodded. “You?”

“Fisherman. From Belamir. We were just bringing in our second catch, when these…khrabjori came upon us.” He shook his head. “Our ship was too heavy. Couldn’t outrun them.”

Darius nodded, and the man looked up at him. “Name’s Miran. Miran Kresic.”

“Darius Varro.”

Miran nodded. “You have family in Tarsium, Darius?”

Darius nodded. “A wife, and a son.”

“You’ll get back to them. I know you will.”

Darius looked up as the floorboards creaked above him.

“I hope so.”

They spent the rest of the day chatting, and Darius learned that Miran had seven brothers and four sisters, who were all part of the family fishing business. Their fleet had been on the north shore of the Erith Sea when the Rashadim attacked, and Miran was worried that his siblings might have also been captured, or killed. Darius in turn told Miran about his home just outside Tarsium, and his wife Cassia and little boy Lucan.

After a few hours, one of the warriors came below deck to feed the prisoners, shoving a chunk of crusty bread into Darius’ face and letting him wash it down with a single ladle of water.

The next few days progressed with more of the same. Darius chatted with Miran about life back home, being fed a sparse breakfast and dinner, and waited for the ship to reach its destination.

Miran said they were being taken to Tiraza, a coastal Rashadim city in the south. There they would be sold to the highest bidder, and made to work in the fields or raise livestock.

“The Rashadim are warriors, not farmers.” Miran said. “They only have a mind to kill, they don’t know how to grow anything. They have made a business out of trading Sakhir. That’s what they call prisoners who are made to work.” Miran leaned in toward Darius and smiled. “But don’t you worry, mi druzi. We won’t be Sakhir for long. I have a plan.”

Darius leaned forward while Miran explained his plan to escape. Apparently Tiraza had a great market at the city centre. This market was crowded and confusing. After such a long voyage, their Rashadim captors would be tired, just trying to get their prisoners to the Sakhir auction grounds in the heart of the market.

“That’s when we make our move. They will separate us to bring us through the crowd one by one. The moment they loose our chains,” Miran clapped, “We strike, then disappear into the crowd. We lay low, find our way to the north gate, and we’re free. Free men, Darius.”

Darius nodded. He was beginning to wonder how Miran knew so much about Tiraza and the Rashadim, but he didn’t ask questions. In the end, he just wanted to get home, back to his wife and son.

A few days later, the ship docked, and the prisoners were dragged above deck. Darius was momentarily blinded by the sunlight, having been in the dark of the ship’s hold for over a week, and as his eyes adjusted he was overwhelmed to see such a new and strange place. Tiraza. The Rashadim jewel of the sea. There were tall towers and minarets dotting the skyline, with bright blue and gold domes atop several buildings. A bustling fish market lined the docks, with merchants hawking strange and exotic seafood.

The prisoners were chained together in a line and shuffled down the dock. Darius was directly behind Miran, and they both scanned the harbour, taking in as much detail as they could, in case they would need to recall it later.

As they made their way into the heart of the city, everything grew more crowded and chaotic, and soon they came upon the open-air marketplace, filled with spices, loud voices, and hundreds of brightly dressed people milling about. The thunderous cacophony was overwhelming, and the Rashadim dragged the prisoners off to the side, escorting them one by one through the throng.

Darius could feel his moment approaching, and his palms began to sweat. Soon the soldiers unshackled Miran and Darius from one another, and the moment they were free, Miran struck the soldier in the head and pushed him into the crowd.

“Now, Darius! Run!”

Darius sprinted forward, following Miran into the crowd and ducking low to disappear into the mass of bodies. He quickly lost sight of Miran, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to get as far away from the Rashadim as he could, as quickly as possible. The chains around his hands and feet were slowing him down, and he knew he needed to break them if he wanted any chance of escaping from this city.

The bodies were thick in the marketplace, and he had no idea where to turn. Then the crowd parted for a moment, and he caught sight of a stable. Surely it would hold a tool capable of cutting his chains, and perhaps even a horse he could ride to safety? Darius shuffled towards the stable, squeezing through the press. Then the crowd parted again, and Darius looked up. Before him stood a large Rashadim soldier with a great club in his hand.

Darius gasped, turned, and tried to run. But he made it no more than a few paces before a heavy blow fell upon his head, and everything went black.

He awoke to the sound of voices.

“Thaltuan? Thaltuan! Arabhan? Mah-bi, fi Arabhan!”

Darius opened his eyes, and his vision was blurry for a moment. He could make out shapes of what looked like people in front of him, but they weren’t moving. He blinked and looked down, seeing that he was standing on a wooden platform, held up by two Rashadim soldiers. Looking around, he saw a number of people gathered in a large square.

This must be the Sakhir auction grounds, Darius thought to himself as an olive-skinned man stepped forward, handing a sack of coins to a third Rashadim warrior standing on the platform.

Darius frowned as the Rashadim soldiers dragged him off the platform and threw him in the back of a wagon. Everything went dark again.

Darius awoke several hours later, riding in the back of the wagon. There were several other people in the back of the wagon with him, all shackled together. Most were dozing, or staring down in silence. Darius looked around to see that they were now in the countryside, passing rows and rows of trees laden with figs and pomegranates. Beyond the rolling hills he could see the ocean. The landscape was beautiful, and Darius thought he might have liked to visit here in a happier time.

The wagon turned down a lane, stopping in front of a stone building with an iron door. The prisoners were hauled out one by one, then thrown into the building. Darius hit the hard dirt floor as the door was slammed shut and locked.

He sat in the darkness and sighed. So this is how it is. I am now a Sakhir.

He thought about his wife and son, wondering how he would ever return to them, how he could ever escape from this place. His lip began to quiver as he felt the the shackles around his hands and feet. The Rashadim just seemed to be everywhere. Watching and waiting. Tears began to flow down his face, and Darius lay down on the dirt floor, crying himself to sleep.

The next morning he was awoken with a kick in the ribs, fed a simple ration of salty meat and dry bread, then dragged out into the blazing sunlight. Dozens of other Sakhir were there as well, and the Rashadim cracked whips and forced them onto the sun-baked hillsides to dig trenches for irrigation.

Darius noticed that some of the Sakhir were more experienced, and received fewer lashings from the Rashadim. Darius tried to follow their lead, digging his trenches deep and straight, keeping to the line of the trees. Around noon they were given another ration, then continued work until the sun set. After sundown, the Sakhir were taken back to their quarters, fed another ration, and thrown into the dark.

Few of the Sakhir looked up, and even fewer spoke to one another. They were all resigned to the fact that this was their lot in life, and had decided to make the most of it, and survive as long as they could. And submission was the best path to survival.

But Darius was not content to just survive. He wanted to live. To get back home, back to his life. Back to Cassia, Lucan, and the world he knew. And sitting in the dark that night, Darius began to formulate a plan. The guards would release the chains around his wrists only when he needed to use the toilet, and then only for a minute. That would be his window of opportunity. But with the chains around his feet, he wouldn’t get far. He would need a way to break those as well. And once he was free, where could he go? The Rashadim were always patrolling the grounds. And what of the lands beyond? Were there other hidden dangers lying in wait? Darius needed more information. And he was determined to collect it.

The next day, he began to take a lay of the land. Plotting out the details, making a map in his mind. That was when he met Kuhle.

Kuhle was another prisoner, originally from Novungu. He was young, strong, and capable, and had been working out a plan of his own. Journeymen stopped by the farm from time to time, offering to sharpen tools or re-shoe the horses. They always came in wagons with space at the back, and Kuhle’s plan was to sneak onto one of those wagons and hitch a ride away from the farm. After a few miles, he would slip out of the wagon and be free in the wilderness. Then all he needed to do was keep out of sight as he made his way back home.

“But what about your chains?” Darius asked him that night, and Kuhle leaned in.

“That’s the amazing thing. The wagons are filled with tools. Tools to work iron and bronze. I’ll just use one of those tools to break my chains, and worry about the manacles later on.”

Darius was skeptical, but also intrigued. If Kuhle could find a way out, it would prove that the Rashadim were not all-powerful. Any chink in the armour was worth exposing and exploiting.

A few days later, a journeyman came to visit the farm, and Kuhle told the Rashadim he needed to use the toilet. Darius watched with bated breath as Kuhle disappeared behind the hillside. A few minutes later there was a commotion around the journeyman’s wagon. Darius watched in horror as Kuhle was caught and dragged off. The Rashadim told him to get back to work, and Darius continued digging his trench. He never heard from Kuhle again.

Darius was shaken to the core. Was there any way to escape? Was there any path that wasn’t guarded by the Rashadim? Was there any hope? Or would it be better for him to just put his head down and work like the others? Darius wasn’t sure, but he knew that he didn’t want to be dragged off like Kuhle.

So he put his head down and worked diligently alongside the others, biding his time. If an opening ever presented itself, he wanted to be ready. But he didn’t want to just chase a dream, or a whim. He needed a real plan, and it needed to be foolproof.

But he never gave up hope, and every night Darius said the same prayer into the darkness.

“Cassia. Lucan. If you’re out there, don’t give up hope. I’m coming home.”

Darius kept working the fields, and looking for a good opening. But the truth was, no good opening ever presented itself. He was always in chains, the Rashadim were always around, and with these slim rations they were feeding him, he could feel his strength beginning to wane.

And with his strength went his resolve. Darius watched as more prisoners came, and more prisoners went. Young men, filled with vigour, dreaming about freedom. They were caught, dragged off, and never heard from again.

And so, as time went on, Darius slowly began to lose hope. And as he lost hope, he gained the trust of his Rashadim captors. They no longer saw him as a threat, so they loosened his shackles, gave him a larger ration, and even let him drive the wagon during harvest. He wasn’t going anywhere, so why should they worry about him?

Weeks turned into months, which turned into years, and Darius found himself becoming resigned to the fact that he might never get home again. Still he prayed to Cassia and Lucan, but it felt more like a ritual, and less like a promise.

And so, seven long years passed, and Darius became the most trusted Sakhir on the farm. The Rashadim brought him new prisoners who he taught to work the fields and get the most out of the land.

Darius was pruning the trees on the western hillside overlooking the sea when the Rashadim brought him a new prisoner.

“Novarian, we have a new Sakhir. You train him!” a Rashadim soldier said, and Darius nodded as he looked towards the prisoner, then gasped as he recognized his face. It was Miran.

“Miran! Is it you?”

Miran looked up, and Darius noticed that he had only one eye.

“Your eye!”

Miran shrugged. “I lost it during our last escape attempt. Do you remember?”

Darius shook his head. “That was a long time ago. How are you keeping?”

Darius showed Miran around the farm, and heard all about how his friend had been recaptured by the Rashadim, then sold from trader to trader. He never gave up hope of escape, and was surprised to see that Darius was still there.

“I would have thought you would be long gone by now.”

Darius shook his head. “The Rashadim are always around. Always watching.”

“Yes, but they are not all-powerful. There is still a way.”

Darius shook his head, and Miran looked at him. “You still want to get home, don’t you?”

“Of course, but I don’t want to die trying.”

Miran nodded. “You want to live.”

“Yes, I want to live.”

Miran looked at his friend. “Tell me, Darius. Are you living? Here on this farm? Is this life?”

Darius thought of the life he lived, in constant fear of his captors. He shook his head. “No.”

“Then do not fear death, for surely it would be better than this. If you die, then so be it. But do not give up on life while there is still breath in your body.”

Darius nodded, looking toward his friend. A spark was ignited within him. A spark of hope.

Miran looked toward the sea. “Do any fishing vessels anchor at night?”

Darius nodded. “Yes, they set down in that cove there. Usually three or four of them.”

“Hmm.” Miran looked around. “We have a north westerly wind these days. If we would take one of those vessels at the right time, there would be no stopping us.”

Darius nodded. “Yes, but what about these shackles? If we cannot run, we have no hope of escape.”

Miran smiled. “You let me worry about the shackles. I’ll take care of it.”

Darius looked at Miran skeptically. He may have felt a spark of hope, but he still wasn’t ready to die on a fool’s errand.

Miran didn’t take long at all. The next evening, he found Darius pruning more trees on the western hillside, and pulled an item out of his tunic. It was a Qattal, a tool used for cutting heavy metal bolts and chains.

“Where did you get this?” Darius whispered, and Miran waved.

“Never you mind. Quickly, let me cut your chains. We move out now!”

Miran reached out and cut the chains around Darius’ hands and feet. He was free. He was exposed. Darius wasn’t sure.

Miran took Darius’ hand.

“Come, we don’t have much time!”

Darius followed Miran as they snuck beneath the trees, making their way toward the cove. It was a sheer drop down to the water.

“Are you ready?” Miran asked, and Darius shook his head.

“There’s a path leading down to the water. Just over there. Come on!”

Miran followed Darius toward the path.

Just as they approached the path, they heard a shout. One of the guards had spotted them.

“Come on, run!” Miran cried, and Darius ran to the path.

A guard stepped out from behind the treeline, blocking their path. Miran wasted no time, and bowled the guard over.

“Don’t stop, Darius! Keep going!”

Darius kept running, hearing more voices and shouting behind him. He ran down the path. He could taste freedom now.

He leapt into the water. The fishing boats were just coming into the cove and dropping anchor. There was a strong wind at his back. A horn blared over the hillside, and the fishermen looked up from their work.

Darius dove beneath the water and swam toward the nearest vessel. He surfaced beside the hull just in time to see the fisherman leaning over the edge of the boat, who was looking across the water at a Rashadim soldier.

“There, there! He’s right beneath you!” the Rashadim cried. Darius reached up and grabbed the fisherman by the wrist, dragging him overboard. The man splashed in the water as Darius pulled himself onto the boat, rushing to pull up the anchor as quickly as possible.

“Miran? Miran!” Darius cried, looking around. Up on the ridge, he saw his friend, still fighting with the Rashadim. Then Miran disappeared.

But Darius couldn’t stop. Not now. He got the anchor out of the water and dropped it on the deck as the fisherman struggled to climb his way back aboard. Darius grabbed an oar and batted the man away, then unfurled the sail as a strong gust of wind blew into the cove. Darius’ heart lifted as the sail filled, and the little vessel lurched forward. Then Darius grabbed the tiller, steering the fishing boat out of the cove.

The Rashadim shouted from the ridge, but they were too late. The reflection of the setting sun on the water looked like a golden road lighting his way home. Darius shook with emotion. Miran. Gone. Kuhle. Gone. And how long had he been away from home? What would it be like when he returned?

As night fell, Darius plotted his course. The stars were familiar to him, and he knew the way home. The small vessel was built for coastal sailing, but Darius had no time or patience. He needed to get home. The spark within had now become a fire. He made for the open sea.

There were limited rations on board, but they were enough to keep Darius alive. A storm descended the second night, and the sea lashed his little vessel. He would not give up. Not now. Not when he was so close. And nine days later, a coastline finally came into view. Tarsium. Home.

Darius landed on the rocky beach and fell to his knees, kissing the stones. Shackles still around his chains and feet, Darius walked into town.

Tarsium was familiar, yet different. The buildings were the same, but the decorations were all new, and he didn’t recognize any of the merchants in the town square. He decided to give the blacksmith a visit and have his shackles removed, but the smithy was no longer there. The shop was now occupied by a spice merchant. The spicer exited the shop, and Darius raised a hand.

“Tell me, friend. Where is Gaius Faber?”

“Gaius Faber?” The man replied.

“Yes. The blacksmith who used to own this shop.”

The man shook his head. “I don’t know any Gaius Faber. And this is my shop!”

Darius raised his hands. “I meant no offence. Just looking for a friend.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “What are those on your hands. Are you an escaped convict?”

“No, no! You’ve misunderstood my—”

“Havaska! Havaska!”

Darius didn’t wait for the man to continue. He ran. Ran for his life. He wouldn’t be taken again. Not here. Not now.

What had happened to Gaius Faber? What had happened to Tarsium?

Darius didn’t wait to find out. He just ran. Ran down the familiar yet foreign streets, past the new shops, old squares, and strange ornaments. He ran out of the city, all the way home. He had to know. Were they still there, waiting? What had happened to his wife and son?

Darius stopped suddenly. He had arrived. Standing at the end of the lane, he looked toward his farm. His home. The place he had dreamt of, all these long years. He was petrified.

Darius forced himself forward, walking down the lane as the sun began to set. And as he approached the house, he saw her. Cassia. There was some grey in her hair, but otherwise she was as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on her.

She was filling a jar with water, and looked up. She saw him. He stopped. They just stared at one another.

“D…Darius…is that you?”

“Cassia…my love.”

Darius ran to her, and they embraced. She dropped the jar, and it shattered on the ground. But she didn’t care. They kissed, and Cassia wept.

“I thought you were dead. I thought you were gone.”

“No, no, never! I’m so sorry. Sorry I ever left. Sorry I was away for so long.”

Darius wept, and they held one another.

Then he pulled her back, and looked at her.

“Lucan, is he—”

A teenaged boy emerged from the house.

“Mother, are you alright?”

Darius froze, staring at the boy. He was so much taller than before. Growing into a man. He had Darius’ nose and chin, but his mother’s eyes.

Cassia gestured towards Darius. “Lucan, this is your…”

Lucan frowned. “Father?”

Darius walked toward the boy and nodded.

“Hello, Lucan.”

Lucan stepped forward, and Darius embraced him.

“It’s been so long. It’s been too long.”

Cassia embraced them both, and Darius looked at his wife and son.

“I’m home.”