Elite or Enslaved

By Gillian Garget

In a world long forgotten, two generations of youth fight against a system that oppresses the many to reward the few. One fighting to free those he loves from within the system, one watching from the outside until she was forcibly brought into the fold. They struggle between compassion and tradition; duty and love. Is hope and stubbornness enough to save them all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gillian Garget
• Release date: Feb 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781387739196

Book preview

Prologue

Falenburg

22nd Cycle under Ruler Emmerych

The human detritus was everywhere, stinking up Odovicar’s precious air with their unwashed bodies. He readied his scented, lace edged handkerchief from his pocket in anticipation. At least he was still outside the entrance of the Cavern as the stench from those who found refuge within the cave was even more unpalatable. He was thankful for the last few breaths of outside air as once he had entered the Cavern he may as well glue this handkerchief to his face. He turned to his retinue and made a decree to tell Utrich that the Enslaved should be washed more regularly and continued his steady pace towards the waterfall at the Cavern entrance.

He took a deep breath, waved to his retinue to wait there as he stepped beneath the Cavern roof and was glad of his forethought in wearing his oldest cloak. He was sure that the stench of the place would not leave him or these clothes again. He took a deep inhale on his handkerchief, thankful for its flowery scent. He was due there a good time ago to meet Edda; but as she was just an Enslaved. His time was worthwhile, whilst hers was completely expendable.

Though she was said to have a peculiar talent, he heard from a trusted Slaver who brought her to Falenburg and he was keen to it see happen before his very eyes. He had brought this information from a grizzled man with only a few wisps of hair and two daggers on his hip. He hoped to further his relationship with the man now that he knew how cheaply the man could be bought. Apparently she could divine the future, according to his now slightly richer source. Odpvicar was sceptical but hopeful, as he had great need of her services. If she had any benefits to him then she would be handsomely rewarded by not being pushed into an early grave, either by overworking to the point of death or from the miasma of filth and disease, that had penetrated every fibre of his cloak. It was no great loss. More of them were procured easily enough.

He held the scented handkerchief to his face as the path narrowed. The Enslaved had pushed themselves against the walls and lied prostrate on the ground to attempt to avoid his ire. It was still not enough to give him relief from their very presence. He approached their meeting spot and finally laid eyes on her. She was much older than his 20 cycles of the seasons. She was near naked and seemed very cold. Unfortunately she did not wear clotheslessness very well, but perhaps that was lucky for her. He was on the hunt for an Enslaved to be his bed warmer but one look was enough to see that she would not be a worthwhile turn between his sheets.

Her bright eyes took him in and fear flashed across her face. He loved that expression. Edda did her best to modify it but he knew she felt fear of him and he found the prospect very exciting. Her hair was predominantly black with some streaks of white. Nothing about her appearance shouted mystical, but from his understanding the premonitions came solely from within. She dipped a small bow as he closed the gap between them.

I wish this to be over. The stench is unbearable. If you have something of worth to show me, then do so now, for I will be leaving this wretched place as soon as possible. It would be best for you if I left in a good mood. Anything else would not be good for your health, he barked angrily at her, leaving the veiled threat hanging in the air. He watched her eyes widen in fear as she deepened the bow.

As you wish. Please follow me to the fire. I used fresh wood so hopefully that will help abate the smell for you, she said as gracefully as she could with her stilted language, gesturing to a large fire behind her. He was irritated by her speaking the Falenburg dialect so well but swallowed it. Emmerych did not want language mixing in any way other than what could be used by the Enslaved to better serve the Elites. He supposed her knowing it was slightly better then having to watch her act out what she meant.

She lead a short way to a roaring fire which cause him to begin perspiring almost immediately. She sat him down on one side of the fire and moved herself to a higher position on some stacked flat rocks across the flames. He could no longer see her body, just her shoulders and head amongst the flames.

She asked him to sit quietly whilst she found a psychic connection to him. He quickly lost track of time with nothing to focus on besides the fire and the collection of sweat exuding from his every pore. He tried his best not to let his irritation be known, lest she have to start again. He sat getting more and more enraged and sweaty, as she sat over there, serene as anything but doing nothing. He patted his head with his handkerchief and removed his coat as light headedness began creeping up on him and fought every urge to go slap her for wasting his time. She began to speak.

Your anger will never be quenched but it will serve you well. You are better than most in the land and as such, you should be rewarded. You will be rewarded. But time will be the most important part. You must wait. You must bide your time. You must make yourself indispensable to those of great power. You will take their power. It will all come to you, if you wait and watch for the right sign. Take their power when you have a lady of fire beside you. Wait for the red lochs to be yours and take what is yours. None will stand in your way and if they try, then you must extinguish them. She must be fully yours or your gambit will fail. You must own every part of her body and soul and then you will get everything you desire, Edda said intensely and she fell to her side with the effort of reading his future.

He stood in shock at the words she had said. Could he really have hope of ruling Falenburg? Typically the leadership positions where inherited but there had been times that a different successor was chosen. There was a precedent. He wiped sweat off his brow and rounded the fire to her prone figure. on the bare stones; her eyes rolled back in her head. He tossed his cloak upon her, he had no further use for it and was sure it was unsalvageable. He gruffly gave her a cursory thanks, which was more than he would have given any other Enslaved  and began walking towards the distant light of the outside. He always knew he was destined for power. But she had given him much to think on regarding timing. He had planned to make an open bid for the Ruler position but perhaps a long and quiet game to the current Rulers death, would ensure his succession.

He felt the chill of the air and his head cleared as he moved further into the light and as he stepped out underneath the sky, he had the makings of his plan formed in his head. Odovicar grabbed his retinue and told them to spread word to the other houses that Edda was under his protection and could not be purchased by any other Imperial House. If it was all to work out for him then no one else could take her powers and use them for themselves. She was to be an advantage that only he could have. Secrecy and lies will be what gets him all he had ever desired. He always knew he was better than everyone else; and one day everyone else would know it too.

PART 1

Chapter 1

The Village

45rd Cycle under Ruler Emmerych- 18th in Village

He awoke on his side , surrounded by warm furs and soft pillows. He took a few deep breaths of cool, clear air before cracking his eyes open, to the warm sunlight streaming in from the nearby window. Dunn thought back to how cold his wake ups used to be in a time before this home, when he would open his eyes to a rough hide tent and his own frosty breath billowing clouds of steam. He was pleased with how far they have come and how much this house now feels like the only home he ever really had.

Upon looking at the angle of sun through the partially opened, shuttered window he realized he had slept longer than intended. His son was likely already eagerly hunting and trapping whatever animals were nearby to his glen, deep within the largest forest in the mountainous bowl. His daughter was likely already with Cyneweard, her tutor. They were most probably searching for the required herbs for healing, from the area above the tree line, where the wildflowers flourish.

The weather was nice now but had been volatile the last few days, swapping between violent winds, rain and sleet but he thought it would clear up for the rest of the week. He was eager to take the troupe out to survey in the large wooded area to the east of the stream that bisects the Village. The people of the Village would be gathering to build a new cottage in a few days and he had been tasked with finding the best location.

Dunn roused himself to the hearth, to stoke the fire and found that his daughter had already gone to the trouble of laying out breakfast for him. He made a mental note to thank her upon her return from her studies that evening. He said good morning to his wife, Kase, in her native tongue and told her of his plans for the day and his dream from the night before. She had passed many cycles of seasons ago but he still spoke to her a couple times a day in the language she painstaking taught him. He was determined to continue to use her words, lest he forget them and forget a part of her. He missed being able to talk to Kase in person but this ritual gave him comfort. He smacked his lips upon smelling the fragrant meat and breads cooked for him. He shelled the boiled eggs and began feasting. The grouse was exceptionally moist and tender and covered in some fragrant herb that undoubtably had been picked by Davora, plus their feathers made excellent stuffing to keep pillows soft.

After eating, clearing and some small amount of cleaning about the house, he emerged and took a second to survey his surroundings. He was at the perfect vantage point, as his cottage is just outside of the tree line and was resting on the west bank of the stream. He first looked behind the house, up the incline to the small, perched glacier near the top of the mountainous bowl. This was the source of the stream and of fresh, cool water that kept their crops and livestock well watered.

The long, lush grass sprouting between the glacier and the cottage was dotted with large boulders, proof of the size and movement of glaciers in time long forgotten. Wildflowers blooming cover the grass in softly swaying colours. Blues, reds, pinks and yellows; like a tapestry woven by a master weaver. The fields were full of ever moving, winged life, of all manner of insects; both the pollen eaters and those who feasted upon them.

With a stretch of his arms he put his back to the glacier and surveyed down the incline to the small village. Several modest cottages made of sturdy intersecting wood slathered in a grey waterproofing layer. The roof is made of overlapping thin, sheer pieces of slate, gathered and hauled from further up the mountain. They were replaced frequently due to their tendency to shatter in summer hailstorms.

The cottages were scattered on either sides of the stream accessible with rope bridges suspended from permanent poles driven deep into the bank. The poles made from a pine trees and were cemented using a similar ground rock paste, the same that coats the cottages. The trunks of these poles were notched so that the rope can be retied at different heights to accommodate water level changes associated with snow melt. Small tendrils of smoke were seen coming from the roofs of the dwellings and many had drying racks, with curing furs arranged around the cottages in order to catch the most amount of sun.

Dunn lifted his gaze to the distant valley, stretching out far below to the south. The east and west of this position seemed to show nothing but tall mountain tops which seemed to minimize the sky by their very magnitude; dwarfing even the largest clouds. The stream divides the valley for the length of view, then meanders round to sights unseen in the east. The Village settlement found itself high on the mountain, on the lip of steep cliffs, carved out of rock by glaciers in a time before man. The stream that traversed the Village fell off this cliff, cascading to the pool surrounded by rocks below, in a thundering waterfall that swells in volume depending on the amount of snow in winter, the spring thaw and precipitation in summer.

The people were cautioned against looking down to where the waterfall lands as the cliff edge is a very deep cornice and it is impossible for the people to know on top how much is missing underneath. It was not uncommon to hear distant rumbling and slight tremors in the earth caused by a rockslide from beneath the rock shelf. The cliff wraps the entire multi-peaked mountain, leaving the only way down in elevation was by going uphill and attempting to traverse the horrible conditions and myriad of hungry mouths to the base of the mountain. This impenetrable cliffs are the saving grace of their location making it easily defendable and impossible to overrun, should someone wish to attack us.

Not that there is anyone that wants to attack us, he said as he began walking and he tried to convince himself that he meant what he said.

He shook his head and turned towards the nearest rope and plank bridge and ascended it remembering a time when they seemed so big, precarious and scary. They are second nature now and where he used to fear looking down, he now relishes it. The cold water runs the clearest blue from a few meters below him. Impossibly clear as the rocks exude a mineral that catches the waterborne silt and traps it to the bottom of the stream. This silty muck ranging in colour from the purest whites to the darkest blacks create a beautiful colour pattern against the sharp blue but unfortunately also makes crossing the stream by foot near impossible.

He quickly scampered the 10 meter expanse on the gently swaying bridge and descends the ladder placing his feet firmly on the well worn dirt paths that joined all the dwellings and bridges. The paths were worn flat from the passages of many feet and follow an almost identical path even when the dirt was buried under feet of snow, such was the constancy of the Village’s occupants.

He followed the path by the river and then took a branch to the left towards the what looked like the edge of the woods. Tucked between the trees, the path was rendered barely visible due to the ever changing mosaic of moss and fallen pine needles. The light levels decreased significantly once he was within the trees but the route was thankfully straight as an arrow and the thickness of the forrest made it almost impossible to get off the track. The path grew easier to see and then in a span of a few meters was blindingly bright. Stepping from beneath the last trees and out on the soft grass Dunn stood blinking in the sun.

When his vision cleared he surveyed the wide expanse of clearing dotted with townspeople steadily tending their crops that surround the largest and first building in town. Standing three stories tall, with rock chimneys on either end, it was made of the massive pine trees that once filled this now cleared area. The Longhouse dwarfed all other buildings in the town. Its erection was hasty due to the incoming of winter at the time but it is unmatched in both style and design precision. This precision was the difference between life and death to the early settlers and has meant that the building required very little maintenance. It was the work Dunn was most proud of constructing; excluding his two children of course, but he tends to put the onus of his their greatness on to their mother.

He set off down the path to the front door of the LongHouse, waving and smiling at those toiling around him. He exchanged many pleasantries on the way and was met by a shared excitement about the house construction that was to occur in a few days. It is typical for the Village to all join as one when erecting a new cottage. It both increases the ease and speed of construction that comes when done with many hands but also because it gives the town a great excuse to have a party, once construction is completed. Dunn shared their excitement but also had some measure of fear as well. Cottage design and construction is done under his orders and instructions so if someone was injured or if the house is unstable and collapses then the responsibility is firmly planted at his feet. The townspeople’s trust in him was absolute and he had never had an issue before. However the possibility of failure weighed heavy on his mind; but never his demeanour, lest he scare the townsfolk.

He pulled open the door made of heavy wood slats and stepped into LongHouse. The removable window shutters were hanging open and the large expanse was bathed in light from the sun. The room was hot but not uncomfortable, as thankfully, the fireplaces at either end of the expanse were only coals. The LongHouse has a large cavernous room spanning the length of the building on the bottom floor, with the second floor being made of four separate, partially walled landings. The third floor was divided into several small rooms to provide shelter for people who find themselves without. Long tables stretch down one side of the Long House whilst the other side had three distinct areas, cleared space for the children to play, storage of spare furs and foodstuffs, a kitchen area, packed with swiftly moving people trying to do as much preparation as possible for the feast tomorrow.

He saw the people he was there to meet with at the far end of the house,