The whole village had gathered; the children, the elderly, and everyone in between. Tonight, one of us would be chosen as the sacrifice to the Warlord Gantos. It only happened once every five years but it has been five years to the day. I still remember the look on the man’s face from the last sacrificial call when his name had been called. While I can’t recall his name, his face is stuck in my memory. Imprinted there.
After his name had been called he went through the village gate and into a wagon I hadn’t noticed before. No goodbyes. No tears. Abject horror on his face and then gone.
No one talked about him again. If I was called, it would be the same.
Usually when we all gather together as a whole village there is talking and laughing and jokes and food. Not today. It seems even the little ones are feeling the somber atmosphere. The only sounds were the natural ones; feet shuffling, doors opening and closing, wheels turning. I wanted to scream. Just for the reaction, for the noise.
The noon bell began to toll and everyone gathered by the fountain. And still no talking. That is, not until the red robed Elected raised his hands. Without any fanfare or introduction he clapped his hands once and spoke.
“Warlord Gantos calls for his sacrifice. Kiani Ciel.”
All the air left my body. I couldn’t move. I had officially entered the realm of the forgotten with that one plain announcement. Already people were drifting away. It wasn’t their name called so they could move on with their lives. And I guess to them I was already gone. I watched my mother move away, not bothering to look my way.
The Elected stared at me, standing there gaping in the middle of the quickly dispersing crowd. He hadn’t moved. Instead the man merely waited for me to accept the call and meekly bow to it. Smoothing my tattered dress I took several steps back, away from The Elected. His unemotional gaze hardened to steel.
“Kiani Ciel. Step forward.”
I shook my head. Words still wouldn’t come.
The Elected pointed at the wagon waiting outside the gate. It looked exactly like the one who had taken the last sacrifice.
“You can go willing and be comfortable on your journey or you can go bound.” The Elected slowly walked to me. His gaze never wavered from my face, did not break eye contact. “Walk over to the wagon. Your life here no longer exists.”
Looking around at the only place I had ever known, I found his words to be achingly true. I walked over to the wagon without any further hesitation.
After I sat down in the wagon I looked back at The Elected. “How long?”
“It is a journey of 5 days to the Warlord’s base.”
With that, he stepped back and the wagon began to move. A man I did not recognize was on the seat guiding the horses. After what felt like hours may have been more or less, I found that I couldn’t focus. The trees blurred as much as the passing time did.
It wasn’t until the quick steady beat of a fast approaching horse broke the solemn quiet that I sat up straight and looked around. Behind the plodding wagon, a hooded rider with a huge flowing cape galloped closer. I watched as he approached, so unlike the slow steady inexorable pull to the reality of the warlord’s sacrifice.
Mere minutes later and the rider was beside the wagon and reaching his hand into me. I stared at that hand, uncomprehending.
“Take my hand.” His voice broke the last vestiges of whatever frozen acceptance had numbed my brain.
I could see the driver turning around as I flung myself toward the rider. In seconds I was pulled bodily from the wagon onto the horse. The position I landed in was oddly uncomfortable. I was sitting backwards, in the man’s lap, though if I shifted too much I probably would have fallen off. I wrapped my arms quickly around the man’s chest and held on tight.
The driver was yelling something but the wind drowned it out.
Several miles of hanging on for my life later and the man spoke. “Kiani, you just need to hold for a few more minutes.”
“H-h-how, how do you know me?” It was hard to chat on the back of a galloping horse.
He didn’t speak for several minutes until he slowed his horse to a canter, peering back behind him several times. “Kiani, we grew up together. Though I haven’t seen you for several years.”
“Five years?” She swallowed.
He chuckled. “A little more, actually. I ran away the year before the five year mark.”
“Declan?” I struggled to sit up better, hoping to stumble on a more comfortable position. “If you are Declan then I am thinking you’ve grown way too much for me to recognize you on the back of a fleeing horse.”
“I was there five years ago, hiding in the treeline. If they had called your name instead of Luc’s I would have done this then instead of now.”
“Luc.” I stared away and off into the horizon. “I couldn’t remember his name.”
Declan shrugged. “He wasn’t very social. And since no one talks about the sacrifice once they are gone I’m not surprised that you couldn’t.”
“Where are we going?”
“Kiani, I’ve been out here for six years. I’m taking you to my home. You’ll be ok.”
Shaking my head, I couldn’t clear away the fog. “I don’t feel well.” I sighed before yawning. “Won’t they come looking for me?”
“I don’t know.” He confessed. “You are the first sacrifice I’ve ever stolen. I did follow Luc’s wagon until it reached the city but I couldn’t go inside. I have no idea what happened to him. I’ll keep you safe though.”
“You can’t guarantee that.” I struggled to talk, to breathe.
Declan shifted, further slowing his horse. “Almost there. I’ll do everything in my power to never let you come to harm.”
“I missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, Kiani. Welcome home.”
