in two pieces. The merchants burst into spontaneous applause which gradually petered out as
they realized they now had a giant man standing in their midst unshackled.
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"Er . . . shall I start the bidding?" quavered the
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slaver, giving Gordoc a wary look. "Who'll give me two hundred heralds?"
At that moment, Ramil ripped off his neck ring and sprinted from behind the merchants. He
vaulted onto the block to be caught up by Gordoc and lifted onto his shoulders. The big man
steadied Ramil's legs so he stood high above everyone. The Prince swung the collar two-handed
in the air.
"Ironfist has shown that we are strong. We'd rather die than be slaves!"
With a head-cracking swoop of the collar, Ramil struck the slaver, dashing him to the ground.
Confusion erupted in all quarters as the men from Ramil's pen swung their collars with deadly
intent. Guards rushed to subdue the ringleaders only to find themselves attacked by slaves on all
sides of the market. Chains were used to throttle guards; soldiers were overwhelmed by the
weight of numbers as men threw themselves on sword arms. Those still in their pens howled
and clashed the bars. Onlookers screamed as they tried to escape the crush. Melletin and his
Brigardian recruits formed a barrier around the slave women with young children, defending
them from the stampede. The rich merchants turned to flee but found a determined-looking
slave girl standing behind them armed with a pole ripped from their canopy.
She cracked one man over the head as he lunged for her. He went down and did not get up
again.
"Stay where you are!" Yelena warned the rest, holding the pole like a staff.
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Two other house girls appeared
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at her shoulder, one carrying a hefty parasol, the other brandishing a copper pan.
A merchant barked an order to his bodyguard to force passage through, but Yelena poked the
man in the ribs with the butt of her pole.
"Are you his slave?"
The bodyguard grunted a "yes," uncertain what to do.
"Then join us, brother. It's your chance to be free."
"Kill the slave filth!" screamed the merchant, thumping his guard on the back.
Yelena pouted, keeping eye contact with the man. "That's not very handsome of him."
"If you don't do your duty, I'll have you flogged!" the merchant spat.
With a roar, the bodyguard spun and knocked his master flat out. The other merchants yelled
and scrambled to escape over the rail that had separated them from the common people, but
Yelena and her girls brought the canopy down on their heads, trapping them beneath.
Ramil had disarmed a guard with his collar and now had a sword to fight with. Hampered by
having to wield it with a loose chain and collar attached to his wrists, he still managed to defeat
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those swarming towards him. His feet slipped in the blood spilt on the cobbles but he fought on.
Injured slaves and overseers groaned on the ground; bodies lay sprawled in the dust.
Ramil fought with desperate efficiency. He knew they had to bring this phase to a close before
the regular soldiers arrived; bells were already tolling the alarm.
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His makeshift slave army would not stand a chance against a disciplined attack.
Finishing off his last assailant, Ramil shouted instructions: 'Gordoc, get some men and build
barricades across the main roads into the market.
Melletin, release the other slaves from the pens! Yelena, put the hostages in the empty cages."
"My pleasure!" she replied, rapidly organizing the slave girls who had gravitated to her during the fight.
Ramil could not help smiling when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pinch the cheek of
her master and prod him over to the pen.
Keys were liberated from the fallen slavers and manacles undone. When the bodies had been
piled up, twenty slaves had been killed and thirteen overseers. Saying a prayer for the fallen,
Ramil wiped the sweat from his brow, knowing that they had got off lightly on this first attempt.
Now the challenge was to keep what they had gained and build upon it. The market offered little
in the way of defensive positions. The shed where the women had been housed would do for
the wounded but he couldn't afford to get boxed in. He quickly reconnoitered their situation.
Gordoc was making good progress with the barricades, piling up carts and crates across the
entrance.
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Weapons that had been in the hands of the oppressors now were distributed among the slaves.
For the slave army to survive, he would need discipline and organization.
Already he could see a broad-shouldered slave arguing with Melletin for preventing him from
killing his old master.
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"My friends!" shouted Ramil, jumping back on the block and clanging his sword against a shield.
"Listen to me! Fergox's soldiers will be here very soon and we must make preparations for our
defense."
"Who put you in charge?" growled a stocky man, his face showing the sign of many strokes of
the lash. "We're free. We should take what we can get and run for it!"
"If you do that, they'll hunt you down and you'll be standing back here next week or hanging at a crossroads!" Ramil replied. "They expect us to act like mindless slaves, weak because we act alone, scattering when we come up against opposition. I say we should act like free men and
choose to fight shoulder to shoulder."
Yelena strode forward with a party of girls at her back.
"And free women, Prince," she shouted. "We're with you." She slapped the stocky man on the chest scornfully. "Are you lot so spineless that you'll flee at the first sign of a real fight?"
"You heard the ladies," said Ramil. "Fergox has soldiers, but they only fight because they're paid to do so. Every house in this city has slaves who'll fight for their freedom. We've more allies than
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we can count if we see what we've started through to the end." He held the gaze of the objector.
"But I don't want people I can't trust at my back. If you're with me, good; if you're not, you'd
better run because it's going to get very hot around here very soon."
Melletin jumped up on a barrel beside Ramil. "Brigardians, are you with the Dark Prince?"
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"Aye!" shouted his countrymen.
"What about you other men?" Ramil asked, looking across the crowd of faces drawn from all
parts of the Empire.
The slave who had challenged him took one look at Yelena, then raised his hand. "I'm in. It
seems you might know what you're doing after all."
Ramil grinned. "I can't promise that--but I can promise that I'll buy you a drink if we're still alive by the end of tomorrow!"
This met with a cheer and a laugh.
"Now I can't talk to all of you. Form yourselves into your pen groups and appoint a leader. He or she will be your commander. Send them to me.
Melletin, can you and the Brigardians stand guard while we get this rabble sorted?"
"Aye, Captain." Melletin ran to the main barricade, swiftly organizing his men to defend all approaches to the market. Ramil was thankful he had such a seasoned resistance fighter on his
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side; Melletin knew exactly what to do.
Search parties were sent to clear any hostile forces from the buildings surrounding the square
and a watch established on the upper floors to give warning of any attack.