Chapter Text
Slaveboy
By PEJA
He stumbled. Fell, skinning up his knees. Blood trickled down his legs. He pushed back up to his feet His ankle screamed against the burden of weight on damaged tissue.
Don't think about it. Run.
He managed a step forward, won another fall as his prize, gained his feet again and hobbled fast as his injured leg would let him.
Lungs burning, he gulped for air. His own rasping gasps were loud, deadly loud, in his ears and still he pushed himself to run. To escape.
Behind him, the sound of a horse in pursuit fired his panic. He pushed himself harder. Pushed and knew it was not enough.
The tracker was good. Too good. Getting close. Then backing off, only to close in again.
Playing with him.
A cat and mouse game slowly driving him out of his mind.
Run.
The word was all that his exhausted mind could hold onto.
Run
A broken limb seemed to reach up and bring him down. And this time there was no getting up. Nothing left of hope.
Death stared down at him with the bluest eyes Blair had ever seen.
Imagine that. Death rides an Arabian.
He curled into a ball, the last strand of his sanity succumbing to hysteria.
~~*~~
Heaving a grunt of grim satisfaction, the tracker dismounted. Quick strides put a finish to the distance between him and the downed man. Bending over the giggling captive, he gathered him up and held him to his chest like a babe.
"Hush, little one," he crooned, taming the man the same way held tamed his horse to his touch. "It's all right. No more worries. Shush."
His soft spoken words had the desired effect. Staring up at him through a tangle of wild chestnut hair, the slave lay in his arms, not fighting in the slightest. Not begging for mercy. Suddenly way too silent.
"Good," he said. "That's a good boy."
Shifting the captive in one arm, the tracker smoothed tangles out of a too-lean face and frowned. "That's bad," he murmured, gingerly fingering a bleeding cut over clear blue eyes. His quick glance counted out several more cuts and scrapes. "You were careless with yourself," Jim reprimanded the silent man. "I'll need to clean those before you get them infected.
He settled on the ground gracefully with the other man still in his arms.
Cradling his burden against his chest, Jim managed to free a canteen and wet a cloth then gently cleaned out the cuts. A quick application of antiseptic finished the task. Through it all, the injured man remained silently motionless.
"You're a good boy," Jim murmured, smoothing his hand over the dark hair. A sharp prick brought another frown. The tangles were full of brambles and twigs.
"Let me get those out for you." Jim murmured and carefully plucked the stubborn prickly burrs from the silken strands. The slave endured it without a sound. Without flinching.
This one was a real prize. Cleaned up the young man would bring a good price.
It had been a long time since he'd been able to afford the luxuries of town.
~~*~~
The young man lie curled up on his side with his legs pulled tight against his chest. The swollen ankle seemed almost to have taken on a pulse of it's own.
Jim could see the blood pulsating under the near translucent skin. It was the kind of injury that should have to man writhing in pain.
But the slave just lie there, staring from vacant eyes at something only he could see.
Stifling an impatient curse, Jim sluiced his coffee on the ground and strode over to the other man. "Get up."
The captive didn't so much as blink.
"I said get on your feet, slave."
To no avail.
His patience at an end, Jim wrenched the limp man onto his feet and watched as the slave promptly puddled at his feet. It was as if the man's soul had fled, leaving a bundle of flesh and bones behind.
Jim hunched down beside his slave and waved a hand before his eyes. The stare remained unfocused. Jim made a gesture to strike him in the face. No reaction. He did slap him. his head swung away, then flopped back lifelessly.
"Just my luck," Jim muttered, drawing his dagger and lifting it above the slave's heart. "I'm sorry, beauty. I can?t afford to keep an insane man in food."
The blade glittered as it plummeted towards the unprotected chest.
At the last second, Jim's unerring aim veered away, ripping open the earth instead of living flesh. With his breath heaving in his chest, he stared at the catatonic slave. "I can?t," he groaned, pulling the slave into his arms. "I can?t kill you like that."
He stood, the limp man dangling in his arms and moved them both to his bed roll. Settling Blair on the blankets, he lie down and gathering the other man to him, he covered them both and slipped into a warrior's sleep.
TBC