By EL Hewitt
Taranis stood for hours, his injured back pressed against the tree. Two men watched his every move.
“Hey, stop right there, slave,” one growled, noticing a hand slipping free. He strode over and punched the teen in the stomach, making Taranis grunt in pain. Then he resecured the hand and looped a rope around the boy’s neck.
“Just move. Go on, make my day, exiled one,” said the stocky, dark-haired guard.
“I just wanted water. It’s right there. Please, Sorrel,” Taranis pleaded.
“You know the orders. Two days without,” said the other man, watching closely. “Your commander will come tomorrow. Commander Greal.”
“Should we secure his head too?” the man added. “No movement at all?”
“No. He’s got the collar, and the rope’s above it. It should be tight. His hands are secured again. We just follow orders. No food. No water,” Sorrel replied.
“Commander Greal? That’s who I’m under?” Taranis managed to spit out. The rope around his neck made it hard to breathe or swallow.
“Yes. He’s coming to train you. You’ll be tethered. Chains, binds ankles, wrists, neck until he says otherwise, cursed exile.”
Taranis swallowed, almost choking.
As the sun rose and the shifts changed, a smith appeared.
“Time to change the collar, but that rope makes it tricky,” he muttered. He carried tools stone and bone hammers, and a strange new collar made of carved deer bone and inlaid stones, blessed by the Seer.
“No please. I’m sorry,” Taranis whispered, trying to hide his fear.
“Hey, Tanar, look at me,” Solaris said gently, stepping forward. “You’re the kid who doesn’t fear anything, right? The one who slept with wolves and rides dragons?”
“Morrigan and Boldolph,” Taranis whispered. “They still howl.”
“Yes. They cry for you.” Solaris crouched. “I know you’re scared. I asked if you could play after this punishment. But you have to stay in the clan’s sight.”
“Really?” Taranis asked, making a face as the smith worked.
The old collar shattered. The Seer stepped forward, chanting softly. The new collar was fitted around his neck tight but precise.
“This is to contain and restrict what you are believed to be,” the Seer said. “It bears your name in the old tongue. Carved by flame. Blessed in shadow. It does not break unless your master wills it.”
“Will it grow with him?” Solaris asked.
“It will last a few years. Then we replace it. But it is a warrior’s collar.”
“Can we still attach the tether?” a guard asked.
“Here,” said the smith, tapping the metal hoop. “The restraints remain the same.”
Everyone in the village looked to the boy some with sorrow, some with fear.
“Master, I won’t run or hurt anyone. You saved me,” Taranis said softly. But the masters voice remain silent, the boy had been their property 7 years nothing would change it.
He was removed from the tree. His hands were bound low at the waist. The sinew cords bit deeper with every hour. A leather tether linked the collar to his wrists, forcing him to hunch forward.
“Walk,” the clan leader commanded.
Taranis took a few difficult steps.
“Father, how long is he in this for?” Calor asked.
“This is punishment. When I see a correction in his behaviour, I’ll allow an alteration.”
After a few steps, Taranis fell.
“Get up,” barked a guard.
The leader grabbed Solaris’s arm. “No. He must do it alone. No one helps him.”
“Fuck you,” Taranis hissed, losing his temper. He tried to turn his head, but the tether tightened around his throat. He struggled. Slowly, painfully, he managed to rise to his knees.
“I’ll kill you for this. One day.”
For that outburst, they dragged him through the camp by the tether. Word spread fast the exile had defied them again.
They brought him to the sacred stone circle.
Taranis staggered. Blood dried at the corners of his mouth. The clan watched not with pity, but quiet judgment.
At the center, the clan leader held a mask.
It was beast-shaped, stitched hide, with a carved bone bit meant to force the jaw open and silent. Leather straps dangled like tongues.
“This is what you become when you threaten your own,” he said. “Not man. Not wolf. Not worthy of freedom.”
He strapped the mask to Taranis’s face. The bone slipped between his teeth. The world became heat, shame, and pressure.
They paraded him around the circle. No words. No cheers. Only the crackle of fire and the quiet of judgment.
Then they brought him back to the tree.
He was secured again tether pulled tight, hands bound low, unable to straighten. A bucket of clean water sat just out of reach.
Solaris and a friend sat nearby.
“I get that he hates us,” the friend muttered. “But this? This isn’t helping.”
“How long’s your dad leaving him like that?”
“He’s planning a fight. Says the slave goes in bound. As punishment.”
Later, a group approached the tree. “He’s fighting the hunter who disrespected your father,” one said. “Only this time, he doesn’t get unbound.”
“That’s death,” Nudge said. “This is a unique slave.”
They dragged Taranis toward the circle again. Tether at his neck. Hands bound. Mask still biting. His feet scraped the dirt.
The hunter was waiting older, heavier, armed with a bone club.
“This one’s half-starved and shackled,” the man jeered. “A gift fight.”
The Seer raised her hand. “Begin.”
The club came down fast.
Taranis dodged. Took the blow on the shoulder. Pain exploded. He dropped. Rolled. Used the tether’s pull to spin and slammed his wrists into the man’s knee.
A stumble.
The crowd laughed and jeered .
He stood barefoot, bleeding, bound and faced his enemy.
This time, he waited. At the last second, he kicked low behind the knee. The hunter dropped.
Taranis slammed into him, shoulder first. They hit the ground hard.
Bound wrists wrapped around the man’s throat.
“Enough,” said the Seer.
He didn’t let go.
“Enough!” she repeated.
He finally released the man, who gasped for breath.
Taranis stood. Mask soaked in blood. Breath ragged.
“He’s not just a slave,” Solaris whispered. “He’s… something else.”
One of the leader’s sons stepped forward. “Kill him.”
Taranis hesitated.
Then the look in his eyes went blank.
He obeyed.
He killed with a single motion. Trained. Efficient.
The camp went still.
“I didn’t think he’d actually do it,” the son whispered.
“You made him do it,” Solaris said coldly. “He obeyed your order.”
The leader stepped forward.
“I gave no such command. But a command was followed.”
He turned away.
“Take him to the Ridge.”
They dragged him up the mountain path.
The wind screamed. No songs. No prayers. Just feet against earth.
The Ridge loomed an old stone, cracked and worn by time.
They fastened him there. Arms above his head. Rope around his chest. Collar tethered tight. Ankles bound. Spine locked in an arch. The mask stayed on.
No fire. Only wind. And a wooden bucket of water, just out of reach.
Night came.
Time blurred.
He dreamed of wolves. Of fire in the sky. Of names long forgotten Rayne, Drax, Lore.
And then Solaris came.
“I asked my father for leniency,” he said softly. “He said pain teaches obedience.”
“This isn’t obedience,” his friend muttered. “It’s madness.”
Solaris crouched.
“I don’t want you to die,” he whispered. “But I can’t stop this. Not tonight.”
Before leaving, he placed a carved stone with a sun symbol beside the bucket.
A promise.
The night passed.
Morning came.
He had not died.
And that, somehow, was worse.
When they removed the mask, the clan leader gave him a small sip of water.
“Why did you kill him?” he asked.
“Your son told me to,” Taranis said, voice raw. “If I don’t obey, I’m punished. I did what I was told and still, I’m punished.”
“How long do I stay like this?”
“One day,” the man said. “You’ll be taken down tonight. Try not to fight the restraints.”
A boy ran up the path.
“The general is here. He demands to see the prisoner.”
A shadow moved at the ridge’s edge.
And the storm was far from over.
To be continued
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©written and created by ELHewitt
Further Reading
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