Arcadia III

They crossed into Arcadia. A land of a hundred forests, a hundred mountains, and a hundred gods, but few men.

He was treated as a little more than a pack animal. Cold porridge, water, a blanket of filthy wool were his comforts. To walk and to carry were his purpose. He understood this, but understood nothing else. "Who are they?" he asked Barro on a wet morning, clenching their pale fingers at a spare, hissing fire. Barro was a seasoned man, not young like Clovis; he was solitary but seemed wise to the boy. "They are Iylum's men. And now we are Iylum's slaves. You know of Iylum?" "He is god of conquest." "The gods have always warred with one another. Buy Iylum thinks he is better. Iylum thinks he is best."

"Where will they take us?"

Barro did not know, or did not want to answer, but said at last: "We will be dead before they get there."

Clovis was dead a tenday later, too cold and too tired he stopped on the mud track they marched, and knelt. Two of Iylum's men yelled at him, kicked him, spat on him, then finally took his load, his boots and clothes. They left Clovis there, sobbing, naked and dirty, defeated not by war or the gods but by himself, with his burden divided between Barro and the boy.

He did not feel pity for Clovis, but shame.

Some of Iylum's men would use Barro to exercise with wood swords and staves. They had used Clovis too, so now they used the boy. He did not know how to fight, and did not think he wanted to learn. It had done his father no mercy, or Dwlf or Amidash. Or Clovis. But he had no choice, because he had no choices.

He was slow and clumsy, but he was angry too. I am not an animal! his thoughts stormed, How will you fight a hundred gods! His adolescent rage was punished. Blows to his face and head that blinded him, deafened him, deprived him of all strength with shocking swiftness; he shook and staggered but he refused to submit, to kneel as Clovis had done. Finally his hands were struck, with such force he was swept clean of all other sensations than pain. He fell then, not whimpering like Clovis, but screaming.

They tended him and gave him strong drink that night, but drove him hard and did not feed him the next day. Like a dog, he knew. Like a dog that won't obey.