Of Lust, Love and Vengeance

The wind billowed through the cannon passage whistling through the willow trees causing their braches to fly constantly back and forth. It created a rustling rhythm of leaves and the squawking of the unfortunate birds that had made the mistake of choosing this valley as there resting place.  Here and there a rabbit would scurry across the path eager to find shelter from the wind and to stay well out of reach of the predators that usually were not far behind.  
Neither hawk nor eagle was to be found daring the coming storm for they had chosen to stay buried within their nests.  They never wondered what would happen if the old tree their nest was perched in collapsed beneath them.     
Clouds covered the sky promising that rain was not far off. They blocked the sun and even though it was almost midday it appeared to be within the early twilight hours.  The buzzing of mosquitoes and the annoying clouds of gnats seemed to hover anywhere there was even a morsel of water.
A distant flash of lightning illuminated the sky quickly followed by clasps of thunder that caused many to wonder which god they had offended.
You could also hear the constant splashing of water from the puddles that covered the valley and the thudding of horse's hooves as they hit the ground.  The rattling and clanking of chains only added to the rhythm of fear that had seemed to accumulate over the valley.  Every now and then the horrific rhythm would be joined by the crack of a whip and the piercing  screams that fallowed.
The late spring storms of Glen made traveling on foot almost unbearable. It was nearing the end of the summer, useally the rains came in the spring; just as the snow melted, in time to ready the ground for the planting season. The rains had never come until now however.  There had been a few sprinkles that past spring but The sun had long since begun to regain its warmth and the rain had yet to cease completely  A few sprinkle here and there but not near what was needed.  Only now, when the crops were ready to be harvested did the rains finally come.   Of course this caused the air to be hot and hummed. Making everyone, including the slavers miserable.
They where all tide in a single file line that was attached to one of the slaver's horses.  There was a little girl in front of him who reminded him painfully of his younger sister.  
She could not have been more than six years old.  The slaver's had picked her up in the last town that they had past through.  The slavers had bought her off one of Glen's tax collectors.  Her family couldn't pay the wages that the governor had demanded, so they had taken her to settle the debt.
The girl hadn't breathed a word.  There where bags lining her piercing blue eyes and her cheeks along with the rest of her face where red from crying on many a sleepless night.  That, however couldn't come close to concealing the freckles that where scattered across her face and arms.  Her hair was matted and muddy but her bright red hair shown through all the same.  Yes she looked like his sister almost exactly but his sister must be at least nine now.
Yes that was how old Rachel must be.  She was six when they had fled from home, only for him to end up in a slaver's grasp.  Where was she now?  Was she even still alive? If so, was she safe or did she meet the same fate that he had?  How many times a day must he ask himself that same question?  
Will remembered one of things that his father had told him once.
"Will it truly doesn't do the dead any good for the living to waist their lives brooding over their existence. For in the end we will all discover all the answers much to soon."
Will remembered gazing back at his father in wonder and in confusion. "What do you mean?" he had asked.  
"Like I said you'll find out much to soon as it is."  His father had replied calmly and patiently.  "For every answer that is given there is another question waiting to be asked.
Once again he gazed on in confusion.  His father had answered his questioning look by saying "It is one of those this parents hope their children will never have to know, but we as parents must except that we cannot create the perfect world in witch to raise our children."
"But I thought that's why you became a knight, so you could make the world perfect." Will had replied.  His father had chuckled at that and then did his best to correct him without breaking into a laugh in the process.
"No, no my son. You miss understood me. The world will never be perfect because we humans are not perfect.  We never have been and we never will be.  You see it is in our nature to make mistakes."
Will had always before pictured his father as a flawless hero who could do no wrong.  
"Then why did you become a knight if no one can make the world perfect?"
"We cannot make it perfect but we can make it a better place while we are here and for the one's we leave behind when we are gone."
Will felt something grab his leg and hold on tightly.  He looked down and scowled.  He wasn't surprised to find that it was his sister who had grabbed him.  


End of Flashback

The shouts of one of the slavers awoke him from his thoughts.  Darren was his name; he was the one with the bullwhip.  
"Pick up the pace." Yelled Drener as he came behind the assembly line.  He was in a foul mood.  There was venom in his eyes.  He looked as though he was having an exceptionally painful hangover.  He was coming up right behind them.  He could hear the crack of the slaver's whip and the yelps of his chosen victims that followed all too often.  
He kept his eye focused on nothing but the ground beneath his feet, but that was hard when you had a bad habit of wincing whenever a whip cracked whether you were the one receiving the blows or not.  
The girl turned around and gazed back at him with eyes filled with horror and looked at him as if she expected him to do something to stop the seen that were playing out before them.
"Keep moving or they'll heart you." He muttered beneath his breath as he leaned down so the girl could hear him.  
"You say something." Said Drener.  Will kept looking at the ground and walking forward. Knowing that the price for answering the question would be likely to be worse than if he was to not to answer at all.  The slaver was right behind him now.   
"Hay slave I was talken' to you." Drener's voice was growing impatient.  Will continued to walk on trying to keep himself from looking back behind him. He heard the crack of the whip before he could feel it's relentless sting that penetrated the skin of his back. He stumbled and fell forward unable to break his fall with his hands.  The ground seemed to rush up to meet him.  He bit his tong hard causing it to bleed as he hit the ground.  Will, using his hands pushed him self up into an all fours' position and repeatedly coughed up the blood that continued to fill his mouth.
The taste of blood sickened him.  He would have thrown up if he'd had anything in his stoumach.
Will struggled to find his feet as the slavers all turned and laughed.  When he finally found his feet the slaver asked him in a humorous voice.
"Now tell me, you say somthen'?"
Will hung his head and muttered a solemn no beneath quietly; just load enough for the slaver and those who were closest to him to hear.  
"I thought not and you'll do well to make sure it stays that way.  Won't ya now?" Drener's voice held a taunting ring to it.  The kind that said he was looking for a fight and would get one weather you gave any reason or not.
"No" replied Will in a defeated tone.  He wanted nothing more than to land one good blow on Drener's jaw.  How he would enjoy seeing him being on the receiving side of the whip.  Will held himself back for he wouldn't be seen stooping to a murderer's level.
Though he often wondered if it in all truth was his morals that kept him from killing Drener or was it simply the fact that he was in chains.   
The unpleasant taste of blood continued to linger in Will's mouth as the slave line continued onward into the valley.  He looked to the sky with hope.  He wouldn't live like this forever.  One day he would be free but when he often wondered would one day turn into today?  For he was tiered of calling these men master.  These men his father had always taught him where beneath them.  Slavers knew no morals.

He had nothing left, even his pride had berried itself deep within his mind.  His honor lowered itself each time he was forced to watch the torture or even the deaths of those who surrounded him.   Each time this happened anger would begin to boil and rise within his chest.  It killed him that he could do nothing but stand there, watching and waiting in horror for the slavers to deliver the final blow.