Within the Plains of Turia

“They’re coming! “Run for the gates of Turia!” The herald lifted again and again as the grass itself bent and shook in tides towards Turia, the high-walled Gorean city lying in the midst of the huge prairies claimed by the Wagon Peoples. Spirals of dust rose into the air as the bosk were driven closer, the rolling sound of pounding hooves almost deafening as people ran towards the nine gates. Kolchoi approached first on his kaiila, the point in the arrow of outriders that approached closer to the city. Today he would boldly enter the city as his curiosity drove him to the slave pens and block for some unknown reason. The grass shimmered in the sun like surf beneath the sure pounding of his kailla’s feet, the fleeing clouds above like an impending warning of his approach.

As the herd settled and slowed behind him, Kolchoi continued on his trek to the city, the kailla’s footfalls steady and sure. A wide grin marked his scarred face as he heard the villager’s screams of terror even though he meant no harm, at least this day. His weapons sheathed but not left behind; he turned his kailla towards one gate in particular, the breeze rustling the net of colored chains that hung before his face in protection from the fur-rimmed helmet that adorned his head. “Fools … the lot of them,” he thought as he was the only Kataii that approached the city, the wagons left behind and no outriders accompanied him on this trip. He was simply there because it pleased him to do so. His shield held loosely in his grip mostly out of habit, was lacquered yellow which matched his bow, the slender line of his light lance strapped across his back. His dark flesh glistened black in the streaming light of the sun.

Being a lone rider, the gate he approached was not shut before his entrance. Lone riders of the wagon peoples had entered the city before but were always watched carefully. He knew that he would not be the only one in search of something within the markets. Groups of outriders were more danger than one simple Kataii warrior. Glancing up to the guardsmen lining the gate that he rode through, he could make out their furrowed brows … their exchanged glances to one another as if in silent communication to keep a watchful eye on him. A hidden smile flickered over his lips beneath the veil of chains as he turned his kailla to the right, the sounds of an auction reaching his ears. He could make out the beat of drums … the cries of the crowd, and knew that whatever piece of flesh was being sold was performing first. He was in no hurry but decided on a whim to at least visit the sale for a while.

Stopping just short of the sale area, he dismounted his kailla, releasing it to the handler there with a coin pressed to his weathered hand. Depositing his helmet onto the horn of the saddle, long strides took the lean warrior into the throngs of possible purchasers that watched the girl upon the block. Some gave way to his size and strength, the color of his skin and markings on his face invoking enough terror to let him go where he pleased. With this factor heavily in his favor, Kolchoi was able to make it close enough to the sales block to get a good look at the girl in mid-dance. His dark eyes took in the appearance of the girl before him and it didn’t take much to know that this girl was originally from Earth. Her coloring and hair didn’t match those native to Gor. That, coupled with the defiance shooting from her blazing blue eyes, was enough evidence for that deduction.

The black warrior took his stance, feet shoulder width apart, arms folded over his massive chest. Although his gaze took in the beauty of the girl before him, the exquisite movements of her stretching limbs and the fire that radiated from her very being, his senses were in tune to those around him. He knew that his presence alone was enough to send most of them screaming “Sleen” into their homes. If they only knew how much most Wagon Peoples couldn’t even bear to be in their city, they would relax. But they were only weaklings that could not survive outside the walls of their precious prison. He would have spit upon their feet but that would have been putting forth too much effort. His interest was now solely upon the girl that was upon the block before these fools, her chest heaving in exertion as she finished her dance and took her place back upon the block. As her eyes spit venom at those that watched, he read in her the natural instincts of a slave girl and knew, in that moment, that she was to be his.

As she stood before the crowd, Kolchoi could see her fear … both that of the sale itself and perhaps the feelings that were battling within. Her dance had been proof enough of her true nature, of her desire to be found on her knees before strong men. He could smell her fear of that very nature she had expressed through her movements but he also could see the fear that she would be purchased and perhaps, even, her fear that she wouldn’t.

The auctioneer’s voice pierced the stunned silence of the crowd that had seen her performance and were able to glance into the slave girl she had tried so hard to keep hidden from them. “What am I bid?” came his cry and he was answered by dozens of voices lifting, shouting out prices for the barbarian girl standing in silence, shimmering tears kissing her eyelashes. Kolchoi kept quiet only long enough to see where the auction was going, his dark eyes riveted to the girl standing so proudly as only a Gorean slave girl can do. He was pleased to hear that the crowd appreciated the girl’s beauty and natural slavery as the bids were shouted out and confirmed by the auctioneer, who continued to display the girl as a true slaver would. As the bidding began to slow, he paid more close attention the price that she was fetching and smiled, knowing he had more than enough.

“One gold tarn,” the auctioneer sang out, his look sweeping the crowd for one that would pay more. “Do I hear another offer for this trained pleasure slave?” Kolchoi knew he was lying. The girl obviously had natural tendencies but she had not been properly trained … at least, no yet. His dark eyes watched her features tighten, knowing that she would sob out if given the chance but yet, she did not. “Going once … going twice …” the slaver continued his eyes in a continuous sweep of the crowd.

As a single tear slipped down the girl’s face, the auctioneer’s whip going into the air to signal the end of the sale, Kolchoi’s voice boomed through the crowd even though he had not shouted, “Two gold tarns.”

The crowd’s sudden buzzing told him all that he needed to know. His price would not be topped even though it was the low price for a slave sold in Ar at the Cerulean. Dark onyx eyes of the Kataii Warrior meshed with the wide blue eyes of the girl on the block as she gazed upon her new Master as the auctioneer ended her turn upon the sales block. Kolchoi’s smile was triumphant as her eyes dropped in defeat, another tear sliding out over her flushed cheek. She would prove to be worth her weight in gold … of this he was sure.