Dreamstalker walked into the city without leg irons for the first time. The sensation, while long in coming, felt odd. She kept looking over her shoulder for the guards that weren’t there.

After her battle against Gellis and the hounds, the thunderous roar that broke out around the arena threatened to deafen her. The arena master had approached, took her sword arm, and raised it high. The crowd erupted in cheers. When the noise died down, the arena master spoke.

“I, Reeve Ouin, Master of the Arena, do hereby proclaim Zola Gathakavi, called Dreamstalker, to be a free person, with all rights and responsibilities of a lower citizen of the City of Bajevo.”

Arm still raised, Dreamstalker fell to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. She shook her head, still not believing she’d finally won her freedom. Five long years of fighting her way through whatever the master threw at her.

“…Dreamstalker, just there…”

She turned to see two young men following her.

“Can I help you?” she asked, keeping her tone even.

“We heared ye bested Gellis, he were the odds-on favorite to win. How’d ye do it?”

“I’m better than him, is all.”

“How’d ye cheat to beat him, ye lummox?” taunted the other man as they moved to flank her, each pulling a knife from their belt.

A crowd gathered as the young men tried blocking her path.

With a sigh, Dreamstalker shrugged out of the pack, setting it to one side. She gave a warning look to the nearest bystanders. Then she laid the double-headed axe against the wall next to the rest of her things.

“If you boys have something you want to say to me, I’m listening,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

With her full attention on them, they shrank back, then mustered their courage once more. Dreamstalker smelled the liquor. She watched them, waiting until they moved. They rushed her from both sides, thinking they had an advantage. They were wrong. She stepped out of their way, grabbed a bit of cloth from each of them, and used their own motion to toss them in opposite directions.

After checking to make sure the men still breathed, she gathered her gear, thanking those guarding it, and continued on her way. Behind her, murmurs from those watching the spectacle supported her actions. The few that grumbled lacked the fortitude to do anything about it.

Dreamstalker sighed after she heard her name whispered for the dozenth time. The arena had made her famous, and she’d have to live with that. If she stayed. Since that first encounter, she realized how recognizable she was. Her fame had preceded her, it seemed.

She meandered through Bajevo, not knowing where to go. She needed a place to sleep and had already forgotten the name of the inn the last guard recommended.

“We jes’ need one more guard.”

“Hey, you! Goliath!”

Dreamstalker turned toward the voice, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you. I heard about you. Ye looking for work?”

She contemplated his question. “Maybe.”

“Look,” he said, coming closer and lowering his voice. “I seen ye fight. More’n once. Ye strike me as an honest kid that just wants a chance. I been around long enough that I seen how they treats kids like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah, taken young, freed, and not a lick o’ sense.” He looked up at her for a long moment. “I been watching since you got here. I was hoping I’d be here when you got your freedom. My name’s Sim. Sim Farhese. I don’t wanna see you ruined like they ruined the last few kids.”

“Ruined?”

“Aye,” said Sim, turning and motioning her to follow. “I wasn’t here to catch the last three kids that made it out.”

Dreamstalker followed as he related how the city granted ‘lower citizen’ status without explaining what it meant. Sim was saving her from another form of slavery, one that would have been almost impossible to escape. Her fame had, of course, preceded her, and rumor said she won a pot of gold with her freedom.

“That’s not true!” Dreamstalker protested. “All I have is what I saved over the years.”

“I know,” said Sim. “And that’s what sets men like those young braggarts on your tail. You diffused that situation, but it won’t be the last.”

She thought about that for a moment. He was right. She’d heard the muttering behind her as she walked down the avenue. And it’s not like she could blend into the crowd when she towered over them all.

“Listen,” Sim continued, “I have a caravan of cut and dressed stone ready to leave for Nabar. We need one more guard. If you’re willing to take a chance on me, Sim Farhese, caravan master, I promise to make it worth your while. When we reach Nabar, you can start a new life, or continue traveling with me.”

Dreamstalker considered his words and made her choice.

“Master Farhese, I would be honored to accompany you to Nabar. I am searching for a new life.”

“In that case, welcome.” Sim placed his hand over his heart. “I look forward to a safe passage to Nabar.”

Dreamstalker
Finding Freedom