The Voyage - Edmund Pevensie

6

By the time our captors had dragged the three of us out of the bell tower building my vision had thankfully cleared. Despite my aching jaw, which I knew would bruise, I tried to stay vigilant as we were led down the street to what looked like an outdoor courtyard. From the way the houses and smaller buildings were positioned around the courtyard, I could almost imagine at one point in time this area could have been an outdoor market with different stalls and vendors. Now, a simple wooden podium stood in the center of the courtyard. 

With the last bit of light from the day, we were pulled over to a small table inside one of the smaller buildings right off the courtyard. There at a small table covered in books, sat a short and pudgy man who seemed to me the exact type of greasy person I'd expect to run a slave trade. One by one we were pulled up to the man with our captors forcing us to turn each way, force our heads from side to side, and forced to walk across the room as the pudgy man made notes in one of his small books. Notebooks to be exact where apparently this man documented and described each slave possibly to give to potential buyers. He never asked for a name though. Of course, that was because names didn't matter to the slave traders. Man, woman, human or not everyone who had the misfortune to fall into their hands was simply a body they could sell as property. And after all, property didn't get names. My stomach turned sour at that thought.

Eustace went first although the pudgy man just chuckled under his breath at the poor boy, probably deeming him a worthless cause since he wouldn't be strong enough to do any work in a field. Lucy went next, and when the pudgy man raked his eyes down her form I physically lunged at him. Unfortunately with my restraints I didn't get far. Someone grabbed my ponytail and wrenched my head back, making me hiss in pain as I stumbled back a few steps. 

"Ah, one with spirit," the man spoke for the first time although he didn't look up from his book. He motioned for my captors to bring me closer to him, and only when I was right in front of his desk did he look up. His eyes were a dark grey, but they were cold. The kind of cold that made me know right away that this man no longer had any kind of soul and that he'd seen and done things that would make the normal man sick. It made my fingers itch for Susan's bow. 

"The spirited ones are always fun," the man continued as I looked down to see him writing my general description. 'Dark brown hair, approx. 5' 6'', green eyes...' "The spirited ones are always the most fun to break," he smiled at me and I felt my skin physically crawl. 

"Go to hell," I seethed putting all of my anger behind the statement. I felt my guards strengthen their hold on me, obviously not wanting to have another slipup when I was right in front of their bookkeeper. The man didn't seem bothered in the slightest however, his gaze flicking around my face. When his eyes landed on my cheek, his stone cold façade cracked as he frowned. He sighed heavily as he picked up his pen and began writing something else next to my name.

"What a shame," he sighed. "Could've made quite a bit with this one, but it had to come already marked." I glanced down right he made a motion for my guards to drag me away and I caught sight of what he'd written. Boiling rage simmered up fast inside me as I saw those words, so fierce I had to clench my hands into fists pushing my nails into my palm to focus on something, anything other than my desire to kill that man.

Damaged goods.

That's what he'd written. I knew he was talking about my scar. The same scar I'd gotten 3 years ago when a Telmaranian arrow had brushed too close to my face. Now, I wore it as a proud reminder of what I'd been though and accomplished so to be marked as "damaged goods" by some greasy, hideous man because of it made me madder than I'd ever been. 

I vowed right there than when we escaped these idiots, I'd make that man pay. 

Eustace, Lucy and I were led to a section of wall with chains and shackles hanging from it. We were all bound with arms to the chains that attached high above us to the wall, and then another chain around our necks that connected to our hands.