River of Spears (Kingdom's Forge Book 0) by Kade Derricks Page B

pedestal in a field of lettuce. The robed men had stopped working and were watching the new arrivals.
    “What about it?”
    “Look at the Magentite.”
    A polished Magentite gem the size of Dain’s fist lay atop the pump almost haphazardly. A stone that size would sell for tens of thousands in gold, and yet the Tyberons had it laying out in the open on the edge of a field.
    One of the robed men placed the gem into a shallow bowl atop the pedestal. The second cast a spell, and water poured from a hole in the pedestal’s side.
    A gem of that size and they are using it to water their fields.
    “With one of those, I could burn a path a mile wide from here to the river in a single night,” Nico said. “I could burn that entire city to the ground. I could burn anything.” Her eyes took on a frenzied light.
    Dain rattled the chain gently and she looked down at the clamp on her hands.
    “I could burn anything,” she mumbled, more to herself than to him. She kept her head down.
    “Is Nico your real name?” Dain asked. When she didn’t answer, he asked again and nudged her with his elbow. She shook her head then looked up at him.
    “Nicola.”
    They continued around the city, skirting the field’s edges, until they were almost exactly opposite where they had first emerged. The Tyberons led them into a deep quarry.
    Hundreds of shackled prisoners, mostly men and exclusively Tyberon, labored with chisel and hammer there, cutting blocks of white stone. Like the captured army, they too were chained in pairs.
    Near the quarry’s bottom, a group of mages directed four towering rock elementals, and the man-shaped beings lifted the finished blocks and then carried them away with little effort. Dozens of lark-feathered guards milled around, watching the prisoners.
    Each of the paired army survivors were led past the quarry’s iron gates and into a small adobe building. Dain and Nicola fell into line there and slowly advanced toward the back.
    Their first stop was a group of grimy blacksmiths. Without a word, they adjusted Dain and Nicola’s shackles. Dain’s was moved from his wrist down to his ankle. Nicola’s hands were freed from the clamps then reshackled into wrist cuffs lined with grape-sized Magentites.
    If she attempted to cast now, the gems would amplify her spell and burn off her arm. A long length of chain was attached from her left cuff to Dain’s ankle.
    One of the guards motioned with his spear and they joined a second line that headed out the building’s rear.
    A pair of Tyberons waited for them at the doorway, along with a man chained to the wall. His clothes were threadbare and the Magentite-encrusted shackle about his wrist loose. His ribs showed beneath the thin clothing.
    He must have been larger when they first chained him, maybe Wilhem’s size, Dain thought.
    The prisoner spoke in perfect Common when they reached the line’s end.
    “You are now property of the Frexe Tyberons. Graciously they have allowed you to live and pay penance for your crimes. Doing so will earn forgiveness and mercy from the gods.” He spoke without emotion, voice drained of all hope.
    A Tyberon handed Dain a rolled leather pouch. It clanked when he took it.
    “These are your tools. You will cut stone. Your partner,” the man shifted his gaze to Nicola, “will measure the blocks. One rod in every direction, then split in half. Complete two per day. The first is for forgiveness, the second for your life.”
    To Nicola the Tyberons handed a long measuring rod and water pouch.
    Without further ceremony, a guard led them to a section of the quarry and the labor began.

    Six months they worked. Nicola measured and marked. Dain cut. They always finished the first block before noon. After that, the pace slowed. The second block wasn’t due until morning, and there was no reward for cutting extra blocks, no slack the following day. That was one of the first lessons the slaves learned.
    As a pair they worked well, outlasting many