And we’re back to ancient times. I have to warn you, Chobo is not in this chapter. Though he is mentioned a few times. So don’t lose hope. Chobo will return!
On with the story…
The Characters (so far)
Aržak – A Parthian (modern day Iran) Scholar enslaved by the Romans
Sigeberht – A warrior of the Anglii (modern day Denmark)
Meleke – A merchant from (modern day Guinea/Mali) beyond the deserts south of Mauretania
Euphemia – A Greek woman from Aržak’s slave group.
Chobo – A strange little creature with even stranger hair.
Zarl – The “chief” of a tribe from another world.
Chapter 4
During breakfast, Aržak told everyone in their tent about the escape plan, swearing them to secrecy. If they had family in the camp, they could tell them, but no others. This presented something of a problem. Sigeberht was of the mind that they should try to get as many people out as they could, just shy of everyone, if at all possible.
The logistics of that were simply not practical. At best, Chobo’s tunnel could take one person at a time, and even then, Aržak secretly worried someone Sigeberht’s size might have trouble navigating it. It took Aržak at least a half an hour to crawl the distance. If the Romans were to discover the exit of the tunnel, they could probably have armed riders to that spot within ten minutes, cutting off everyone inside.
Sending too many people just created too much risk. A deal was struck; they would establish themselves somewhere out of Roman purview, and then stage subsequent liberations with Chobo’s help. This sounded like an impossible dream, but Meleke was quick to point out Aržak’s ability to understand languages. The locals seemed amenable enough, despite being complicit in Rome’s crimes. With Aržak’s gift, they should have no problem ingratiating themselves with them and maybe even turning them against Rome.
All of this was a fantastic dream, but given their current nightmare, it couldn’t be much worse.
Aržak spent his day monitoring the team, and taking bits and piece of crystals. Not enough that the Romans would notice, but hopefully enough to compensate Chobo. As the day went, a quite fell upon the mine. Not total silence, but enough that Aržak noticed something was amiss. Work songs were still being sung, but there was an artificial quality to them. The slaves all seemed extra aware of their surroundings and were constantly watching the movements of their guards.
Aržak didn’t need to ask any questions, he suspected he knew what was going on. Sigeberht had told the entire camp about the escape plan. When they returned to their tent for dinner things were more than a little tense.
“What have you done?” Meleke demanded.
Sigeberht grinned. “I’ve done what needed to be done. There’s going to be an uprising tonight. The tunnel escape gave everyone the hope they needed to fight.”
“We can’t all go through that tunnel!” Aržak growled.
“We don’t need to.” Sigeberht said confidently. “Those who aren’t able to fight will go through the tunnel. The rest of us will stand and take on these Roman bastards.”
“You’re going to get most of these people killed.” Meleke argued.
“Many will die.” Sigeberht shrugged. “But we will die fighting, rather than bleeding our last under a Roman whip. We will ultimately overcome them. We outnumber them, at least ten to one.”
Meleke laughed. “There is a legion stationed just outside the mine. If the rumor is to be believed, it is the 10th Legion. They are seasoned, ruthless, killers. If called in, they would make short work of your uprising.”
Sigeberht walked away from Meleke and over to his cot. He fumbled around under it and removed a hefty wooden club he’d been hiding there, likely fashioned from a discarded sledgehammer. “Then crawl away and die in whatever way suits you. My gods demand that I avenge my people. I hear them speaking to me now, and I will not deny them.”
“What’s done is done.” Aržak began. “We can’t stop what’s in motion now, but you don’t need to throw your life away needlessly here. Come with us. Build an army, and get your vengeance that way.”
Sigeberht slid the club into his tunic down the side, so it wouldn’t be visible. “Indeed, what’s done is done, and I won’t turn away now.”
After Sigeberht left the tent, Aržak gathered everyone around. There were twenty others who would be joining them. Cousins, spouses, and a few siblings. The original plan was to wait until dusk, but with the impending uprising, Aržak instructed everyone to go immediately and fetch the others. If chaos erupted, there was no way of knowing if they could find them and bring them to the tunnel in time.
Aržak and Meleke wandered out looking for Sigeberht. Once they spotted him, they kept their distance. Neither was eager to engage in another argument. Nevertheless, they were worried about him.
“Maybe we could club him and drag him out.” Aržak posited.
It took a moment of hearing no response before Aržak turned to see Meleke staring at him in disbelief. “A team of buffalo couldn’t drag him out.”
Several other Germano-Gaulish looking men gathered around Sigeberht. At first they looked to be casually talking, but the Romans were having none of it. Two guards approached them with their wooden swords drawn. The Romans weren’t so foolish as to arm the guards in the mine with metal weapons that could easily be used against them.
“Back to your tents.” One of the guards demanded, as he battered one of the slaves on the arm.
Sigeberht grasped the guard’s sword arm, and then threw his elbow into the guard’s face. The guard reeled back from the blow and dropped his wooden sword. With that, the other men in the group pounced on the other guard.
The uprising had begun.
Sigeberht shoved the stunned guard to the ground, removed the club from beneath his tunic, and then brought it down on the guard’s skull. The resulting blow served to fully incapacitate him. Sigeberht then tossed his club to one of the nearby men and took the guard’s wooden sword. Before leaving to join the other slaves, he stomped on the unconscious guard’s throat, delivering what would eventually be a fatal blow.
“Wonderful.” Meleke lamented. “Do we go after him, or go back to our people?”
“Back to our people.” Aržak said mournfully. “Gods be with him.”
“Gods be with us.” Meleke retorted.
It took several minutes to weave between tents, avoiding the skirmishes happening in the main roads. Back at Aržak’s team’s tent, they were surprised to find almost everyone was already assembled there. Sadly, they couldn’t wait for everyone, and began the treacherous journey toward the escape tunnel.
They made it most of the way there before trouble found them. Eight guards stood, blocking their path. The guards were bloodied and bruised. Surrounding them were battered slaves. The time for negotiation had passed. All they wanted now was blood.
The guards leaped upon Aržak’s group, which was comprised mostly of unskilled fighters. One by one the Roman’s beat them down. All hope seemed lost when Sigeberht sprang through the melee. He downed two of the guards, before the other six realized they had an actual threat on their hands. The six then leaped onto Sigeberht, pinning him to the ground.
“Run to the tent, you fools!” Aržak bellowed at the rest of the group. He and Meleke then vainly rushed to Sigeberht’s aid. Using the swords of the defeated guards, they took ineffective swings at the men pilled on their friend.
Two of the guards released Sigeberht and turned their attention to Aržak and Meleke. With a swift backhand, Meleke was sent to the ground. Then both men circled Aržak, finally grabbing him. As he struggled from their grip, Aržak saw Sigeberht staring at him from between the guards that were beating him. A fire entered his eyes. He rose to his feet, with unnatural speed, holding a guard in each hand. He then slammed them together, their bodies breaking instantly, blood and bone pouring out in a grotesque display.
The two guards standing near Sigeberht brought their swords to full bear on his back. He grunted in pain, but then lashed out at them. With incredible swiftness, and brutality, he broke each of their necks.
The two men harassing Aržak took notice and debated their next move. They readied their swords, but when Sigeberht lunged at them, they took off running.
By now Meleke had returned to her feet. “Perhaps the uprising will succeed if everyone fights as you do.”
Sigeberht shook his head, as if trying to regain his senses. “I cannot explain it. These past weeks I’ve been hearing this voice. Maybe it’s the same Aržak has been hearing. Maybe it’s the gods, I don’t know. I didn’t say anything, because it didn’t seem to favor me as it favored him. When I left you earlier, the voice got quiet. Then it came back again when you were following me.”
Aržak grinned. “I guess we’re not that subtle.”
“And when you left, it went quiet again. Quieter still the further I went from the two of you. It felt wrong. I felt as though I no longer had purpose. The fight left me. As I headed toward the tunnel, where I assumed you would be, the voice grew again. And when I saw the two of you in trouble, it was practically shouting. I listened, though I still don’t know the words. Then all of this happened.”
“Well, we’re glad for it.” Meleke said, with a chuckle. “But, perhaps it’s time we get out of here.”
And that’s it for this week.
Just a reminder that this is a sort of experiment. I have a mental outline of how this story goes (basically some main beats, and an ending), but I’m not putting any formal plan together. The idea is to go stream of consciousness on where the story needs to go next. This is similar to running a TTRPG (Table Top Role Playing Game). The main difference here is that I don’t have a group of other humans dictating, either through intent or good/bad luck, where the story goes next. This is the major roadblock with writing a TTRPG. You can’t plan too far ahead, because you just can’t predict what will happen.
Narrative fiction has no natural restriction like that, but I am imposing it. Acting like each time I write, a group of players in my head are responding to the situation I created and acting out accordingly.
It’s weird, I know, but it’s what I’m trying out.
EDIT (2024-10-02): Circled back to add links to previous chapters to all these older entries.
Armchair Screenwriter 
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