Prologue

The cobbled streets were black with the grime and filth of years of neglect, ruin, and decay. The wooden structures that housed the many businesses were falling apart. Loose boards hung at odd angles. Missing shingles dotted the remaining rooftops. Broken bricks were lying among the debris and litter that carelessly lay in the streets. If one should look closely, they might see the bright yellow paint nearly unrecognizable under the accumulated muck. Buildings leaned in odd ways, but always away from the fortress that lay in the heart of the city. The skeletons of a century still stood, unrecognizable though as remnants of a time long past.

          Clouds crept across the pale gray sky obscuring what light there was. Silent shop owners glared at passersbys, maliciously waiting to catch anyone stealing from their shops. Citizens huddled in what may have once been warm houses and stables. Children with envy in their eyes caused unease while they peered hungrily from the gloom of their two and three sided shelters. Wary mothers pulled their children further into the dilapidated huddles as a contingent of soldiers passed, afraid to be noticed.

Only the sound of wheels on cobbles broke the silence. The creak-clack echoed ominously through the narrow avenues. Men silently left their families to walk in the stead of the cart. Their wives and children holding each other close for comfort as much as protection.  The soured smell coming from the cart left little to the imagination of its contents.

 One male child ran forth between the soldiers, grabbed an apple that squelched under his light grip, and tried to dart back into the shelter of the shadows. One soldier drew his blade then ran the wretch through. The child's body seemed to fall in slow motion, the rotted apple still clutched in his bony fingers as he saw for the last time. There was no mother or father to morn for him, just a young girl hidden in the shadows. She watched, silent as tears ran from her soft blue eyes. Still she made no sound. Ad heavy kick sent the boys body off the road, forgotten by all those marching toward the fortress. The girl waited until the street was again empty before darting out to her brothers cooling body. She took the apple and disappeared back into the safety of the shadows.

The bleak sky began to take on the cast of night as the line neared the king’s gate. Darker and darker it grew, lending a sense of deep foreboding to the evening. The soldiers stopped abruptly. Jeering and tormenting, they forced the sickly thin men into a somewhat jagged line. The men stood, some with the look of youth lingering about them. Others so old and rickety they swayed as they stood hunch-backed, waiting for death to come. They all had the gaunt look of starvation and ill; a bony, white, fleshless look in the long shadows of the one lantern hung over the large, iron gate.

 The soldiers split the disintegrating fruits and vegetables into threadbare sacks.

After a period of forced standing, the men obderved a tall rotund man appear. His gray moustache and beard had a slick, oily look. His eyes glistened black above a long sharp nose and under thick grey brows. The light reflected off a bald head. He appeared to be in his late fifties.

The bald man cleared his throat, "I need fifteen men between the ages of twelve and thirty years old. The families of those who are chosen will get a bit of food that could be used for better purposes than for swine like yourselves. Consider it my contribution to charity." He took a step forward. His voice had an air of disregard to it. He continued. "The rest of you go home, I have no use for scum like yourselves."

          "But what of us, we need food too!" came a plaintive cry from the back of the line.

          "You should hope that your wives and daughters can be of use to me." The bald man said.     Any male who was between the ages specified stayed, hoping to be chosen and dreading it at the same time.  The men in the line fidgeted as the sorcerer chose the strongest and the fittest of them to become slaves and servants for unknown purposes. Those who were not chosen watched as the pile of threadbare bags dwindled. The soldiers took the food to each mans family as he climbed into the wagon. As the last bag was taken the rest of the men started home, hoping that they and their families would survive until the next slave call.