Tor heaved the heavy chains over his shoulder, the blood-stained shackles were tight around his wrists. He glanced around the guards one last time and reached between his thighs. “Brother,” whispered the other slave, “if you do this, we’ll surely die!” Tor looked at him sternly, “If we don’t, we’ll die in our sleep, and our ashes will be dusted off the feet of the sungod!” he hissed. Tor Mandu, son of Garath Mandu the Brave, grasp the horn with both hands, the gold inside he melted into place at the mines days ago felt twice heavier than a long sword. The horn he stole from the servers’ tent was used as a drinking cup. He put them to better use.

He tucked the horn at his waist like a sheath, positioned the gold between one of his wrist and the rusty shackle. Inhaling deeply, he pulled and twisted, the metal pierced his flesh and blood oozed. He strained, felt his bone was going to break, then he heard a crack, the metal gave way and he fell to the floor with an audible thud. The pain blurred his vision but he saw the guard coming as he regained his bearing. Seeing the twisted shackles on the floor and the golden horn, the guard reached for his sword, Tor leaped and crushed the guard’s skull with his free bloodied hand, the years of carrying blocks of stone paid off. The other guard turned and came rushing, sword already at hand. Tor reached for the golden horn. The other slave, his name was Lat, cursed and ran to meet the attack - hitting the guard’s groin with his knee, the sword came down at the same moment and hit Lat’s shoulder at the base of the neck. He fell, gurgling blood. The guard was still reeling from the blow when Tor rushed towards him but the guard was quick and swung the sword at him, he barely escaped. He took two steps back and hurled the golden horn towards the enemy’s chest. “Mother of luck...,” Tor whispered in disbelief. The guard fell forward.

Tor wasted no time, he plucked the horn from the corpse’s chest, took the key and free his other hand. He run up the flights of stairs to the top of the tower. The tower was used as a temporary prison as the dungeons were already full. Slaves were moved to the tower as new prisoners were placed at the dungeons.Tor knew he will have his turn and he counted on it. Now was the time to escape. He reached the top and was greeted by the cold early night air. The moat below was muddy and shallow at some places, he would have to rely on his third luck of the night. Without ceremony, he jumped. The tower was higher than he thought, he swore he can recite all the names of his neighbours before he hit the bottom, neighbours that were all dead now. However, home was anywhere but here.