Chapter 4 — The Price of a Name

WHEN DRAGON BLEED

Volume I — The Price of Bread

Chapter 4 — The Price of a Name

The first thing Kael learned about the slave camp was that nobody called anyone by their name.

Names were for people who belonged somewhere.

Slaves belonged to someone.

"Thirty-two!"

A guard shouted across the yard.

Kael looked up.

"Move!"

He was carrying a wooden beam with three other boys.

His shoulders burned.

His palms were bleeding.

The beam felt heavier every hour.

"Move!"

The guard struck the ground beside him with a whip.

Kael kept walking.

He had been at the camp for nine days.

He had already learned the important things.

The work began before sunrise.

Food came twice.

Water came three times.

The eastern wall was stronger than the western wall.

The northern drainage ditch flooded whenever it rained.

The guards changed positions at irregular intervals, but the same men usually watched the same areas.

The dogs were more dangerous than the guards.

And the man who carried the keys was called Harn.

Kael didn't know Harn's name because anyone had told him.

He had listened.

Names were useful.

The beam slipped.

Kael's knees buckled.

"Hold it!"

Joren shouted.

The other boys lifted harder.

Kael pushed himself upright.

A guard approached.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Then walk."

Kael lifted the beam again.

The guard stared at him.

"You have a name?"

Kael looked at him.

"Kael."

The guard laughed.

"Not anymore."

He walked away.

Joren waited until the man was gone.

"Don't tell them your name."

"Why?"

"They don't care."

Kael adjusted his grip.

"I care."

Joren looked at him.

Kael continued walking.

"If I forget my name, they win."

Joren said nothing.

That afternoon, they were sent to the northern storage yard.

Kael had never been there before.

The yard contained sacks of grain.

Dozens.

He stopped walking.

Joren nearly collided with him.

"What?"

Kael stared.

"Food."

"Obviously."

"There is more here than in my village."

Joren looked at the sacks.

"Of course."

"Why?"

"Because they don't have to feed us well."

Kael frowned.

"Then why store so much?"

"To sell."

"To whom?"

Joren shrugged.

"Merchants."

Kael looked around.

The grain was protected by four guards.

Two at the entrance.

Two near the storage doors.

He counted the sacks.

One hundred and six.

Maybe more inside.

He looked at the road.

A wagon could carry approximately twenty.

Five wagons.

Maybe six.

He looked at the horses.

Four.

He looked at the locks.

Iron.

New.

He looked at the walls.

Wood.

Old.

He remembered the eastern fence.

Weak.

He remembered the northern ditch.

Flooded.

His eyes narrowed.

Joren noticed.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Counting."

Kael shrugged.

"Someone should."

Joren sighed.

"Forget it."

Kael looked at him.

"Do you want to escape?"

Joren froze.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Joren whispered:

"Never say that here."

Kael looked toward the guards.

"They can't hear us."

"You don't know that."

"I know."

Joren grabbed his arm.

"You don't know anything."

Kael pulled free.

"I know the western wall is weak."

Joren's expression changed.

"I know the guard near the southern gate drinks before midnight."

Joren stared.

"I know one of the dogs is afraid of fire."

Kael lowered his voice.

"And I know the northern drainage ditch goes underneath the wall."

Joren looked toward the ground.

"You've been thinking about this."

"For nine days."

"You're ten."

"So?"

Joren shook his head.

"You're insane."

Kael smiled faintly.

"Maybe."

That evening, a woman was brought into the yard.

She couldn't have been more than thirty.

Two guards dragged her forward.

Her hands were tied.

A small boy followed behind her.

He was crying.

"Please!"

The woman struggled.

"Please, he's my son!"

One guard shoved the boy away.

Kael watched.

The boy fell into the snow.

The woman screamed.

"Don't touch him!"

A guard raised his hand.

Kael took one step forward.

Joren grabbed him.

"Don't."

Kael stopped.

The guard struck the woman.

She fell.

The boy screamed.

Kael's jaw tightened.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" he whispered.

Joren looked at him.

"Because we're slaves."

Kael watched the guards drag the woman away.

The boy remained in the snow.

Nobody helped him.

Kael walked over.

He picked the boy up.

The child stared at him.

"Where's my mother?"

Kael didn't know what to say.

"What's your name?"

The boy sniffed.

"Lio."

Kael nodded.

"Lio."

The boy grabbed his shirt.

"Will she come back?"

Kael looked toward the barracks.

He wanted to lie.

He couldn't.

"I don't know."

The boy started crying again.

Kael sat beside him.

For several minutes, neither spoke.

Then Kael took the small piece of bread he had saved from dinner.

He broke it in half.

He gave one piece to Lio.

The boy stared at it.

"You eat."

Kael shook his head.

"I'm not hungry."

Lio looked at him suspiciously.

"You're lying."

Kael almost smiled.

"I know."

That night, Kael returned to his sleeping place.

Orven was awake.

"You gave away your bread."

Kael looked at him.

"You saw?"

"I see more than people think."

Kael sat down.

"His mother was taken."

Orven was silent.

"What happens to them?" Kael asked.

"Sometimes they see each other again."

"Sometimes?"

"Sometimes."

Kael stared at the floor.

"Do you remember your family?"

Orven looked toward the ceiling.

"My wife."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"Children?"

"One."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

Kael looked at him.

"How long?"

"Twenty-two years."

Kael understood.

He looked toward the wall.

"I'll get out."

Orven didn't laugh this time.

Instead, he asked:

"How?"

Kael leaned closer.

"The western wall."

Orven's face became serious.

"The guards?"

"I know their routine."

"The dogs?"

"One is afraid of fire."

"The ditch?"

"Passable."

"The mountains?"

Kael looked toward the tiny gap between the wooden boards.

"I'll survive them."

Orven stared at him.

"You've thought this through."

"Yes."

"How many people?"

Kael hesitated.

"I don't know."

"Don't take everyone."

Kael frowned.

"Why?"

"Because you can't save everyone."

Kael stared at him.

Orven's voice remained quiet.

"If you try, nobody escapes."

Kael looked away.

The words angered him.

But they made sense.

That was worse.

Three days later, Kael began preparing.

He stole nothing.

Not yet.

Stealing would reveal his plan.

Instead, he watched.

The western wall was checked twice every night.

The guard on the western tower smoked a pipe.

He left his position for approximately three minutes whenever he needed to refill it.

The southern guard drank.

The northern guard slept standing.

The dogs were fed near the main gate.

Kael watched everything.

He waited.

On the fourth night, snow began falling.

Heavy snow.

Wind swept across the camp.

Kael looked toward the western wall.

The guard disappeared from the tower.

Kael counted.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

He waited.

The guard returned.

Kael smiled.

Three minutes.

That was enough.

Maybe.

The next morning, Kael approached the eastern work yard.

He found a loose nail near a broken crate.

He slipped it into his sleeve.

Then another.

Then another.

Nobody noticed.

By sunset, he had five.

He didn't know exactly what he would use them for.

That didn't matter.

A weapon didn't have to be a sword.

Sometimes a nail was enough.

That night, Kael lay awake.

Joren whispered:

"Tomorrow?"

Kael turned.

"Tomorrow what?"

"You said soon."

Kael looked toward the western wall.

"Not yet."

"You have the nails."

"I need rope."

"Where?"

"Storage yard."

Joren swallowed.

"That's guarded."

"I know."

"What if we get caught?"

Kael looked at him.

"We won't."

Joren shook his head.

"You always say that."

"Because fear doesn't help."

"You're afraid."

Kael was quiet.

Then he nodded.

"Yes."

Joren looked surprised.

Kael whispered:

"Being afraid isn't the problem."

"What is?"

Kael stared into the darkness.

"Letting fear make the decision."

Outside, a guard's footsteps approached.

Both boys closed their eyes.

The footsteps passed.

Kael waited until they disappeared.

Then he whispered:

"Tomorrow."

Joren swallowed.

"Tomorrow."

Kael closed his eyes.

For the first time since arriving at the camp, he didn't dream about his family.

He dreamed about the western wall.

And beyond it—

the mountains.

END OF CHAPTER 4

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