When I decided to post the Shadow King, I had forgotten that I had taken the first installment Of the

Legend of Chaos offline. A Moment of Chaos introduces Peck’s famous grandmother. I love comments, I

am actively trying to publish this, so ANY comments are welcome! Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Among the Anganocs’, there is a saying that goes, “If you can’t find it in the markets of Krynica,

then it does not exist.” After a person’s first glimpse of the market, the saying appears to be true. Goods

were brought from every remote corner of the Kingdom and sold in the capital’s market. The famous

Krynica Market even boasted of rare goods brought in from out kingdom. Among the multitude of

different stands, one could find rare Nami pottery, colorful Rrenian silks and exotic spices, and the delicate

metal work prized in Nungia. The air was heavy with the mixture of spices, foods and perfume creating a

unique aroma that belonged only to the market. The smell of meat and vegetables cooking with exotic

spices drew people to them and generous portions were quickly sold. The Market was truly a world of its

own, sitting in the heart of Anganoc’s capital city.

Today, however, not everyone was there to enjoy the Market. In fact, one man wandered up and

down the crowded aisles, oblivious to the goods that were waved under his nose. At least that was the

impression he was trying to give. The man known only as Nemesis wandered aimlessly around the Market,

trying his best to ignore the screech of the vendors yelling at him. The noise of the Market irritated him

and he strived to keep his face from showing it. He had never cared for crowded places. The people who

hustled by kept bumping him and jostling him. It took a slight struggle to keep the irritation from showing

on his face.

He continued to amble, his slow steps unhurried despite the almost constant jostling. When an

angry person turned to glare at him; they noticed his black uniform. He watched, with a slight pang of

smugness, as their irritation turned to an expression of nervousness and fear. People seemed to hurry away

from him after that. He watched several people scurry off, running into other people in their efforts to

remove themselves from his view.

He lost interest in watching people clear out of his way and turned his thoughts inward again as he

continued to wander the aisles. Without seeing anymore of the noisy market, he wrestled with his own

problems in the silence of his mind. He was jerked back to reality when he found himself in the center of

the market. Looking around the large square, Nemesis realized that he had never been here during the

afternoon auction. He knew the morning sales were for livestock, but the afternoon sales was dedicated to

the sale of slaves. With a sick fascination, Nemesis looked over the throng of people gathered to bid. He

had never seen a slave auction before. His eyes followed the crowd to the front were a hastily constructed

platform stood. He eyed the rickety platform, doubting the flimsy thing would stand through the harsh

Anganoc winter.

His attention turned to what was happening on the platform. Mentally he corrected himself, he

knew very well that the platform was actually referred to as a “block”. Currently on the block stood a

young boy, no more then seven or eight years of age. Even from a distance, Nemesis could see the fear in

the child’s eyes, as he looked frantically over the heads of the people gathered to purchase. With his lower

lip trembling, he looked as if he was facing his worst nightmare. Although caked with dirt, Nemesis could

tell the boy’s hair was one of the strange light colors found in the lands south of Anganoc. The auctioneer

reached out with a stick and prodded the boy to turn. With the look of fear intensifying, the boy did as he

was prodded to. His nude body gleamed under the afternoon sun.

“It’s the legs you need to study; good legs is what makes a fighter.” A whisper from a pair of men

standing near him drifted to Nemesis’s ears. The speaker’s neighbor grunted-his eyes never leaving the

block. After a moment, he answered, “Nah, it’s the chest I worry about. Legs are good, but it you put him

up against a bear or a big cat, you want a strong chest to have a chance.” For emphasis the speaker

pounded on his own ample chest. This remark earned him a snort of disagreement. From their speech,

Nemesis deduced that they boy would most likely end up training for a life in the Arena. He shook his

head, pondering how long that life would be before moving on to think about why the people of Anganoc

seemed so fascinated with watching a man risk his life to fight a large and dangerous animal.

“Such a waste of life,” he muttered, loud enough for his neighbors to hear him. Out of the corner

of his eye he saw his neighbor turn to glare at him. Nemesis turned his head slightly, just enough to meet

the man’s eyes. He had a clear view of when the man actually noticed his uniform. The glare died on his

face and he swallowed nervously. Knowing it was petty, Nemesis smiled slightly. The man jerked his eyes

away from Nemesis and stared straight ahead. A large bead of sweat appeared on the man’s forehead and

trickled downward. Nemesis watched for a second longer before turning his own attention back to the

front.

With impassive eyes, he watched as the boy sold. He was only slightly surprised to see the next

slave up for bid was a girl. He judged her to be no more then fourteen years of age. Unlike the boy, she

stood on the platform with no trace of fear. Her gaze was steady as she looked over the crowd. She

seemed unconcerned with her nudity, maintaining a regal stance as the crowd studied her.

Nemesis let his eyes drift over her, studying her as one would a dog or a horse. Her body bore the

markings of one of the Nami Clans that inhabited the vast plains to the south of Anganoc. He winced at the

complexity of some of the designs on her back. Some of his fellow Shadows bore similar marks in their

attempts to blend in with the Clans and had told him about the pain involved in the permanent procedure.

Nemesis wasn’t sure what the marks meant, except for the large one on her lower back. That complex

design, with its interlocking lines crossing over each other, told him that had she remained with her Clan

she would have risen to become the matriarchal leader of her family. With a morbid turn of thought, he

realized there was no chance of that happening now because her future would lie in the hands of her future

master.

Like most of the citizens of Anganoc, Nemesis could claim very little knowledge of the Nami.

The Nami nomads were several close-knit Clans that lived on the flatlands south of Anganoc. They were

tribal, ruled by something called the Council of Nami. Supposedly, the Council consisted of

representatives from all the tribes. Nemesis doubted anything that absurd could be true. His opinion was

strengthened when he heard that women were allowed to sit on the Council. The Shadows that bore the

tattoos of Nami Clans explained to him that it was very hard to spy among the Nami because of the use of

family ties in daily dealings. The ties are too complex to be lied about convincingly, and without the

presence of blood ties an agent could only penetrate so far into Nami society.

A little angry to find his thoughts wandering again, Nemesis went back to his study of the girl on

the block. Whatever she was no longer mattered. The auctioneer was still silent, allowing people to look at

the girl before beginning the bidding. Murmurs of conversations blended together as people talked

amongst themselves. Nemesis looked over the girl one last time before turning to leave. She was a pretty

little thing, under the dirt that was caked to her skin. She would probably end up in one of Krynica’s

brothels. Towards the front or the crowd, Nemesis could see several agents from prominent brothels

eyeing the girl. He could read the excitement in their stances as they faced the girl.

He was turning to leave, when he saw something else that stopped him dead in his tracks. His eye

caught more then the brothel agents and he wished desperately that he hadn’t looked. The girl might not

end up at the brothels. In the front of the crowds, wearing very plain clothes to avoid notice was the

personal servant of one of the High Lords. Nemesis had been assigned to watch High Lord Errian for a

very long time and was very aware of who his servants were. Nemesis was a little ashamed that he hadn’t

seen the man earlier, but buried that emotion under the anger that swelled inside of him. Nemesis recalled

the tortured corpses that remained of the slave girls Errian purchased. He felt sickened by the memory of

it.

The anger rose again, and Nemesis growled out loud. The rest of the market faded into the

background of his thoughts as his entire attention focused on the weasel of a man in the front of the crowd.

The anger that Nemesis had sought to escape from that day burst into existence again. Nemesis glared at

the man again, feeling all his hatred of the man’s master.

“Let us start the bidding at 100 pei.” The auctioneer’s voice boomed over the crowd. Nemesis

vaguely heard the auctioneer’s voice, so engrossed as he was in his glaring. Nemesis wretched his gaze off

of the servant and back to the block. Quietly, he took several deep breaths in an attempt to regain his

composure. He felt someone looking at him. He snapped his head around to meet the gaze of the grubby

man beside him. Already a bit nervous to see the black uniform, the anger on Nemesis face pushed the

grubby man to far. His eyes grew large and he stumbled backwards into his friend.

“Hey, Drun, watch were you are going!” Drun’s companion snapped, pulling his eyes off of the

block for the first time that afternoon. He frowned at his friend, before looking up to see what had

frightened him so. Upon seeing Nemesis, both men decided to leave the auction for another day. Nemesis

turned back to the front, not seeing the girl. He didn’t watch the pair of men scurry from the square with

frantic looks back to make sure he wasn’t following them.

The bidding jumped quickly to 300 Pei. High Lord Errian’s servant waited for a lull to casually

up the bidding to 500 Pei. Several of the brothel agents declined to up their bids, preferring to wait for

cheaper meat for their business. It didn’t look like anyone was going to bid against Errian’s man.

“1000 pei.” Nemesis snarled, surprising himself. Several people looked over their shoulders to see

who had entered the bidding. After several noticed Nemesis, the square cleared out a little more. Some

very brave souls felt safe in their distance from him to stare openly. Curiosity painted their features, but

Nemesis didn’t notice.

“A thousand?” the auctioneer’s eyes grew wider, and the tip of his tongue crept out to wet his lips.

His beady eyes shifted back to the now silent bidders, “Any other bids?” The silence seemed deafening.

For one moment, the entire square was silent. The silence was broken by the auctioneer’s gavel banging

down on the cheap, wooden podium before him.

“All right then, sold to one of the King’s Shadows for one thousand pei.”

But Nemesis wasn’t watching the auctioneer. He ignored the feel of the many pairs of eyes on

him as he watched Errian’s servant. Secretly he hoped to see fear or a trace of nervousness on the man’s

thin face. When he realized he wasn’t going to get the satisfaction, the cold reality of what he had done hit

him.

His anger left him as quickly as it had arrived, leaving him alone to face the crowd that now stared

at him. He tried not to let his emotions show on his face as he started forward, attempting to ignore the

crowd. People parted before him, stepping back to allow him to pass. The entire crowd seemed to watch

every step he took. The buzz of whispered conversations followed in his wake, and he was glad he

couldn’t make out the individual comments.

He silently wished they would stop staring at him; he hated being the center of attention. Vaguely,

he was aware of the auctioneer trying to regain the crowd’s attention. He realized it was futile to try, so he

fell silent as Nemesis approached the front of the square.

Still very aware of the eyes on him, Nemesis reached the rickety table that stood beside the block.

A scribe was scribbling in a large, leather-bound book on the table. The pen ceased its scratching when

Nemesis finally stopped before it. The scribe raised his eyes to Nemesis.

“Can you write?” the scribe sniffed rudely as he shoved the book across the table towards

Nemesis. Without responding, Nemesis turned the book and held his hand out for the pen. The scribe

slapped into his outstretched hand with another sniff. Nemesis glanced down over the page until the scribe-

with yet another sniff-pointed to a spot with a dirty finger. Nemesis signed his name before straightening

and dropping the pen onto the table. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him aware of a new

arrival to the table. Nemesis looked at the man before him before looking down to see what the man was

holding in his hand. His eyes followed the leash from his hand to where it attached to the girl’s neck. The

girl stood, openly studying him. She didn’t drop her eyes when she noticed him looking at her. She met

his gaze for a moment, before letting her mouth tighten and looking away.

With a slight grimace, Nemesis gingerly accepted the leash as it. He turned and led the girl from

the market, wishing desperately that he could hide under one of the nearby stands until everyone forgot

him. He walked with quick steps in a vain attempt to flee from the stares that continued to follow him.

Another thought struck him. Gossip about a Shadow quickly flowed to the center of the Shadows.

The head of the Shadows, a man called Thanatos, was sure to hear about the events that had occurred that

afternoon. Increasing his speed until he was almost running, Nemesis hoped he could reach Thanatos

before the rumors did.

Something unexpected had just happened, and Kerianna had no idea as to what. She had been led

down from the block to a flurry of movement from the previously slow-moving slave tenders. They

whispered in their guttural language as they tugged the dirty tunic over her head. After the humiliating

exposure of the block, Kerianna was grateful for the little covering that the tunic provided. One of her

handlers did take the time to grab her bottom, causing her to jump.

She couldn’t imagine what had caused such a reaction among the tenders, nor did she really care.

A leash was clipped to the collar around her neck and with a quick jerk; she was led to a table near the

bottem of the block. Feeling a little scared, Kerianna looked back over her shoulder toward the holding

pens. She saw a face she had known since childhood watching her. Heranittis, the shaman of her clan,

raised his hand to her. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but doubted he saw it as she was tugged

away.

The man who had purchased her was bent over a little table writing something in a book. Her

teeth ground together at the thought of someone being her owner. With him distracted, she had been given

the perfect opportunity to study him.

At first glance, he seemed to look the same as the rest of the dark Anganocs. His black hair was

worn long enough to brush his face. The black hair was broken at the temples by patches of gray beginning

to work their way through his hair. She knew without seeing them that his eyes would be as dark as all the

other eyes she had seen since being taken. Her gaze moved down, over the clothes he wore. The simple

black outfit screamed uniform to her, even without the nervous glances of the people around her. It

consisted of a simple black tunic, devoid of decoration, worn over a black shirt. The outfit was well made

and the expensive cloth seemed well taken care of. The breeches were of a heavier material. The entire

outfit seemed to be fitted a bit closer to the man’s body then the other Anganoc men’s outfits Kerianna had

seen. Even with its tighter fit, it left the man plenty of room to work or move in. A wide black belt was

worn over the tunic. The leather was clean and supple. A dagger hung openly at his side, giving her a

moment of hesitation. She wasn’t used to seeing a weapon worn so openly.

The man straightened and looked at her. He was easily a head taller then she was, but his lean

frame made him seem taller. She was right about his eyes, they were the same dark color as every other

Anganoc she had seen. Wrinkles were beginning to form at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Kerianna

refused to be cowed and stood straight before him. She met his gaze, not bothering to repress the anger she

felt. After a moment, she turned her gaze away, watching him out of the corner of her eyes. It didn’t

escape her attention that he felt very uncomfortable with the crowd watching him.

He turned quickly and walked toward one of the many aisles that surrounded the auction area.

Since he had her leash, she had no choice but to try to keep up with his rapid pace. She noticed that a

majority of the crowd was watching him with curiosity. It didn’t help her nerves, that along with the

curiosity was also fear.

She followed the man through the market. He muttered softly to himself, and didn’t seem very

happy. This didn’t bother her, because she didn’t give a damn how he felt. She tried to continue to study

him as he dragged her through the market. She had never been anywhere so crowded in her life!

Stumbling slightly as she removed her gaze from the ground, she glared at his back. Her new

owner insisted on walking at a pace that would be better termed a run. He looked back over his shoulder at

her, grunted and tugged her leash. As the leather bit into her neck again, she cursed quietly under her

breath, using words she had never been allowed to say on the Plains. She hung onto her anger, knowing

that if she let it go, she would have no choice but to ponder what lay in store for her.

In other circumstances, Kerianna would have found the city very interesting. She had never seen a

city, only heard about them in the strange tales Heranittis told. The city seemed to pulsate with life; unlike

the peaceful calm of the grasslands she had known all her life. The road under her feet was laid out with

stones. Every now and then, a corner of a large, flat stone of the road would protrude, causing her to trip.

Her owner didn’t seem to notice her stumbling around behind him, and kept a steady grip on the leash. The

constant pressure was painful to her already sore neck.

When the rare occasion arose that she felt confident in raising her eyes from the ground, She

stared at the buildings that lined the road. She imagined that these were the houses that Heranittis had

mentioned in his stories. She couldn’t imagine liking someone so much as to jam her house up against

theirs. Several had large windows in the front with things hanging in them. People bustled in and out of

them. Kerianna could only imagine these were shops. She felt amazed and overwhelmed with how many

people lived in a city.

Kerianna looked ahead, over her owner’s shoulders. Her mouth dropped open when she saw the

largest building she could ever imagine rising up before them. She shut her mouth quickly, before anyone

could notice a slave girl gaping. Her owner didn’t hesitate, and Kerianna felt that he was leading them

right towards it.

His steps didn’t falter as he kept his pace through a large gate that appeared to be cut through the

thick stone wall that surrounded the building. It was then that Kerianna realized that the huge building

within the wall was actually made up of several large buildings. She slowed her pace to look around and

study the place, but her owner kept a steady pressure on her leash. She was tugged down one of the

carefully swept paths, not given a chance to study the carefully cultivated flowerbeds that lined it. Her

owner hesitated at the path’s intersection, looking down both paths for a second before tugging her down

one of them. With a sigh, Kerianna allowed the tugging leash to pull her after him.