Erim felt broken. Turning his head sent a shot of inexplicable pain that ran up the entirety of his left side - it having taken the brunt of the blows. The redness on his arm had given way to bruises the likeness he hadn't seen before. It had swollen to nearly twice its size and was covered with large patches of black and blue. His face looked worse. Both eyes were a deep purple, his left being nearly swollen shut. Each time he swallowed his jaw would ache and his broken nose wheezed with each breath.

The boy had stopped crying after having shed enough tears to fill a canteen twice over. It had been weeks since the loss of his mother. She had succumbed to an illness having been left untreated. Their master - Erim's father - did not like to waste resources on his slaves. He thought if they are not strong enough to heal, then they are not strong enough to work - rendering them useless. Erim had cried and begged, pleading for his master to help her. The boy had even pleaded with his mistress who had always mistreated him out of jealousy and spite for having been the product of her husband's physical attentions - lacking in love as they were.

"When she dies," the mistress proclaimed, "burn her to prevent it from spreading - and be rid of her little critter!" Within a week Erim's mother had passed, and he was consigned to the markets of Baramurr.

Baramurr was a planet on the outskirts of the Indomada System. The system was known as a territory of the Galactic Coalition. There were military bases throughout the system that were designed as outposts for warnings of incursions rather than a focal point of defence. As such, the inhabitants of the system were left to govern as they saw fit with only token acknowledgment of the Coalition's laws. Respectable citizens largely steered clear, and many of the planets were mined for their natural resources. Baramurr was such a place. It was one of the farthest planets from the system's capital, making it one of the farthest from the Coalition's influence. As such, it attracted unsavoury characters and criminal elements. Here, opportunities for work and goods that were illicit or otherwise not easily found were abundant - slaves among them.

After his mother's death, Erim fell into grief. He'd expect to see her preparing his breakfast when he'd awake in the morning. He missed seeing her smile and feeling the love of her embrace. After only ten rotations, he now knew what it meant to be alone, forsaken, and discarded. He could scarcely believe what was happening to him. He hoped to wake up to find it was nothing more than a nightmare. Yet, upon rising after his first night in the slave market, his nightmare continued.

The slaver's pen that Erim found himself in separated the slaves into two cages, one for males and the other for females. The men's cage was on the west side of the pen, while the women sat on the east, with space between them for the patrons to enter the pen from the south and inspect the slaver's stock. There were less than a score of each the day Erim arrived.

There were not many children and so the other poor souls took pity on the boy. There had been one man who had shared some of his rations with Erim the day he arrived. Ripped away from the life he had known, Erim clung to this man. The boy was so starved for love that a hint of it was enough. His first night Erim cried himself to sleep being held by the man who tried to comfort him. The boy formed an attachment but the next day the man was gone, sold along with a dozen others. Soon, Erim's grief gave way to anger.

The slaver, Creitken, would enter the pen in the morning and strike the cages with his baton, a harsh awakening for any of the poor wretches who managed to sleep what little they could. Creitken was a lyker, a native species to Baramurr. To the humans of Terrla, he resembled a reptile. His skin was a shade of orange, with scales covering his body save for his soft underbelly. His face protruded out from what little of a neck he had with his eyes set on a slant, giving him clear sight both of his front and periphery. His jaws were roughly twice the size of a humans, and twice as wide with a smile that showed stained, discoloured, and crooked fangs. His tail - equal in length to the rest of his body - had a brown mane of hair that ran from its tip to the top of his head. He walked upright on his hind legs - standing a head above the average man - but lykers were known to cover large distances at speed on all fours - slithering their way through most spaces with ease.

Creitken began to notice Erim when the boy's grief gave way to open disdain for the slaver and his clients. The patrons would walk into the pen, greeted by Creitken's crooked smile, and begin to inspect the slaver's stock. Erim would stare back at them with contempt, his hate piercing from his eyes. In the first instance it cost Creitken a sale. The client saw Erim's open defiance and took it as a sign Creitken was too lenient with his wares and assumed this would lead to a nuisance for him later. The consequences were swift and spiteful.

Creitken would storm into the cage and beat Erim with his baton. The boy stood the size of one of the slaver's hind legs and was no match for the lyker's ferociousness. It was all the boy could do to cover and tuck himself to avoid the brunt of the blows. Still, he felt a world of pain. Creitken took to punishing the boy for no fault of his own. The slaver had chosen the boy as a convenient target for his own frustrations and did not hesitate to inflict them upon him. Erim could see the other slaves felt pity for him, but none stood in the lyker's way. The boy was on his own.

Nearly a month passed and the boy was nearly broken. He had stopped bringing attention to himself and made a point to hide in the back of the cage when clients would visit. He thought that perhaps if he stopped staring at them the slaver would have mercy. Still, the beatings continued. They had nearly become a daily occurrence and Erim wanted it to stop. If only he could go back and hug his mother again. Maybe if he had been nicer to his master and mistress then they wouldn't have consigned him to this fate. Do I deserve this? Is this all my fault? Erim would ask himself nearly every waking minute.

He remembered his mother prayed to Eyhro daily. He had kept hearing her say that name, and he asked her once who that was.

"He created the universe and everything within it. If you ask him for help, he'll protect you," he remembered her saying.

"Does he protect you too, Mommy?" Erim asked, confused.

"Eyhro protects all of his creations. All the stars and all their people. If you listen, he'll speak to you too." The boy's confusion only grew. His mother giggled at the expression written on his face. "It will take some time for you to learn how, but you will. Come, I'll show you."

Erim prayed with his mother every night before bed. He never did hear anyone speak back to him. His mother, seeing her son's frustration, told him he had to give something that he thought would be worth giving. He had to make a promise that he'd keep. The boy promised to do his chores as well as he could every day. He promised to be nicer to his mistress even though she frequently smacked him for little reason. The boy did what he could but still could hear nothing.

"Does he not like me?" the boy asked, feeling downcast.

"No! My little rascal - you're one of his favourites! Keep your promises and soon you'll hear Him".

Now, laying on the dirt floor of the cage, Erim remembered being taught how to pray. Was that why he was being punished? Did Eyhro speak to him, but because he couldn't hear him he did not do what he was asked to do? Maybe he was not good enough. He started to remember all of the times he had been scolded by his master and mistress and thought perhaps that's why his mother had been taken away from him. Maybe if he had done better his mother would still be alive.

Erim cried, his tears streaming down his face and onto the floor where they were absorbed by dirt. He tried to muffle his sobs so that he wouldn't be found out. Mommy's dead because of me, the boy thought. He hadn't been good enough. He hadn't done his chores enough. That was why his mistress liked to smack him, because he had been bad and now he was not being protected. The voice of his mistress rang in his ears. She had always called him names - scoundrel, twerp, pissant - but his mother would always tell him to pay it no mind.

Was mommy wrong? Erim would ask himself. He had hated his mistress and did little to hide it in his face. Sometimes he'd find himself ignoring little aspects of what she'd ask him to do out of spite. Once, while she hosted a couple of other mistresses she had asked him to fill their cups with wine, "and don't you dare spill a drop!". Whether on purpose or not - he couldn't tell - he spilt a little on the floor in completing his task. Embarrassed in front of other ladies in her community, by a boy who was a perpetual embarrassment to her, she sent him away with cuts and bruises.

Now, he felt as if he understood the lesson. He sat up on his knees, clasped his hands together, and he prayed. He promised he'd stop crying at night, and he'd stop making Creitken angry. He promised to share his food with the others like the first man he had met when he first arrived to pen. He promised he'd behave, and pray every day so that the beatings would stop and he'd be taken out of the dank, dark, and dirty old pen.

Erim made good on his promises. Everyday, he offered his rations to the other men in the cage. they would stare back at him, confused as to why a boy of ten rotations would offer them food.

"You'll need it more than me," he'd say. "You're bigger. Masters don't like me because I'm little. You'll be out of here soon and in your new home." The men would humour the boy and take his offering, and then they started to share their water ration with him. Every night, the boy would pray in the hopes Eyhro would speak to him, and every night was quieter than the last.

After nearly another fortnight, the boy pleaded in his prayers. Please, Eyhro, I'm trying to be good. I'm trying to share. Mother told me you'd speak to me if I did what I promised to you. Why can't I hear you? Please, Eyhro - father - talk to me. I'm so alone. I promise, I'll do whatever you want. I promise that if you protect me and let me leave here with a good master, then I'll take everyone else with me too. Please Eyhro, I promise. Protect me. With his prayer on his lips, the boy drifted off to sleep.

It was still dark when the door to Creitken's pen burst open. The sound roused Erim out of a deep sleep. Barely being able to comprehend what was happening, the boy turned to look towards the door.

Through the frame came seven of the largest figures Erim had ever laid eyes on, each having to duck their heads slightly as they stepped into the pen. They were clad in armour the likes of which Erim had never seen before. He had seen Coalition soldiers and in their blues - as they were commonly referred to - but these men were of a different faction.

Their armour was as bright as silver shining in the moon light. It covered them from head to toe. Their helmets covered their faces but were structured to resemble one. Erim noticed they each had markings that he gathered from the moon's light, were a dark green. Etched into their armour, the pattern repeated across each limb, torso, and helmet, but no two of them shared markings with the last. They each wore a dark cape that draped over their left shoulder and down their back. Erim thought he could see the cape was coloured the same as their markings with an elegant gold pattern stitched along the edges. On the back of each of their hands were jewels embedded into their gauntlets. On their right was a golden jewel. It was situated in a design of the same colour that ran up to their elbow. On their left was an emerald which sat in the middle of a circular design - again of the same colour - and each of them were glowing.

The first two men through the door walked straight into the pen, taking note of the cages before looking straight as they positioned themselves on either side of Creitken's desk. The armoured man who walked beside the male cage noticed the door at the end that led into Creitken's personal quarters, which he kicked open without hesitation and entered.

Erim looked back towards the pen's entrance. Two more men now stood flanking it, standing near where the cages and the walls met, while a fifth man stood just inside the door frame. A sixth man was standing at the end of the male cage. His left arm with the glowing emerald was outstretched, his hand making a fist. He was slowly walking down along the edge of the cage, aligning his fist with each man he came across, causing some of the slaves to cower, not knowing what they were encountering. Erim felt someone's gaze on him, and he looked to the middle of the room where the tallest man of them all stood, staring directly at him.

The man wore the same uniform as the rest except he had a thick outline of a gold diamond etched on the left side of his chest. Looking more closely, Erim noticed the same marking on the outside of his right shoulder, and on the outside of both thighs, and shins. Strapped to his right thigh was a pistol, aligned slightly above the palm of his hand. Erim looked straight up to the man's right shoulder where he could see the stock of a rifle that was strapped to the man's back.

The man who had broken into Creitken's quarters now emerged holding the lyker by his mane. He threw the lyker towards the desk, and then stood between that and the door he had just entered from. Creitken turned back towards him and let out a screech - a sound Erim had never heard the slaver make before - and took a stance of attack. The armoured man did nothing - not so much as a twitch. Creitken, realising he was not intimidating his opponent, now looked around in panic, and noticed the other six men who had firm control of his pen. For the first time the slaver looked small to the boy as he only stood as tall as these men's shoulders.

"What do you want?" the lyker demanded, looking around at the imposters.

Not one of them moved or responded. The lyker looked back at the first man he had encountered who stood like a statue, his gaze fixed squarely on the lyker. Creitken then looked behind him to the second man who had positioned himself on the east side of his desk, who was just as unmoving. He then looked to the armoured man who was scanning the males with his outstretched hand, and then the tallest of them in the middle of the room.

"You think you can come in here - in the dark of night - and steal my merchandise?" Still, none of them moved.

"You think you can steal from me? A merchant of Baramurr! You've forgotten yourselves knights! You think you'll leave with your contraband? You think you'll be protected out here by your Order?"

The tallest of the knights held Erim's gaze for a moment longer, then turned his head to the lyker, who was now squared off with him, rightly taking him as the leader.

"You - Matori. I'll have each of your men butchered in the streets and hung like the common thieves that you are!"

The leader of the knights - their Matori - now turned fully to the lyker and stared him down and held his gaze.

Most of the slaves had retreated into their cages and stayed close to the back of the wall, almost trying to hide within it. The tension was palpable and none knew where this encounter might end. Erim was now the only one who stood at the front of the cage and watched the scene unfold in front of him. Sensing the knight who was scanning the men with his emerald drew closer, the boy turned to observe him.

Erim noticed that the emerald was now brighter than it had been when they had first entered. He looked into the middle of the emerald and he could see small spurts of golden lights dancing on its surface. As he looked, his eyes focusing on the emerald's centre, he began to hear a humming as if it was coming from the emerald itself. He began to move closer to it, feeling drawn. As he did, the humming took on a purer note of calmness and tranquillity. Erim felt that it was calling to him.

The knight who was scanning the slaves noticed the boy move closer. He looked down to his emerald and saw it was shining more brightly with every step the boy took, and he too began to hear the emerald's calling. The knight began to walk towards the boy, and soon they stood in front of one another.

There was a moment where the emerald seemingly sucked in all the light that was in the room, and after a moment, let it out ten fold. The emerald shot up a golden light that began to dance around it. The light took the shape of a diamond that resembled the one that dawned the Matori's armour. As the diamond took shape, it began to rotate, and it shot out a light so bright that the dark night was gone, replaced by the light of day. After a few moments, the light disappeared and became a faint glow in the emerald again. Erim looked up from the emerald to the knight that stood in front of him.

The knight turned to his Matori, who nodded in return and the knight moved to the cage door.

"You'll not have him!" cried Creitken.

The lyker took a step forward. The second knight who had been guarding him stook a single step and closed the space between them. He took a hold of the lyker by the throat with his left hand and pushed him down onto his desk. Creitken screeched in protest, then the knight punched him twice across his jaw. Dazed for a moment, Creitken recovered, then flung his tail out from behind him to push the knight away, but the first knight he encountered - with reflexes beyond what was natural - lunged forward and grabbed the lyker's tail. The knight then wrapped it around his arm and held it steady in a firm grasp, despite Creitken's attempt to dislodge it.

The Matori calmly walked towards him, and looked down on the creature thrashing and screeching. The knight who had scanned Erim opened the locked cage door. The latch broke with such ease it was as if the knight had found it open. The knight stepped aside and waited for Erim to step out. Despite Erim wanting nothing more than to leave, at this moment he was frozen in place, unable to make his legs move.

"Come," the knight bellowed the command with reassurance. Erim looked at the knight, remembering himself and then he looked at the men in his cage, and across the room to the women, all of whom were staring at him with the same look of disbelief.

"Can they come too?" the boy asked the knight of the other slaves.

The Matori now looked away from Creitken - who was still withering under his men's grasp - to look back at Erim. He could see the apprehension in the boy's eyes, "why do you want them to come?" the Matori asked.

Erim looked at Creitken, "he'll hurt them". The knight looked at the boy's cuts and bruises, noticing the swelling and discolouration of his left arm and knew it was broken.

After a few moments, the knight who stood closest to the women's cage flanking the door spoke, "Matori, we don't have the capacity on the ship to save them all. There's nearly two score of them."

"We'd be labelled as thieves in the eyes of the Baramurr. It could cause problems for the Order throughout Indomada," the knight opposite of the last by the male cages added.

The Matori took considered the thoughts of his brethren. As a Matori he had to consider not only what he and his men wanted but what was best for the Order. They were not meant to be in the slave pen to find a Chosen, but the nahlysium - the emerald - had called and they were honour bound to respond. Their Covenant - their mission - was far from being fulfilled, however.

"We must consider our Covenant, Matori," this from the knight who stood in the doorway, voicing the Matori's own thoughts, "becoming Baramurrian fugitives could lead us to failure." The Matori turned to the other three who had been silent,"what say you brothers?"

The Knight who had pinned Creitken down was the first to speak, "I don't wish to see any soul condemned to a lifetime of servitude, Matori - but yes, we can't risk our Covenant".

The Matori turned to the knight who held Creitken's tail. His only response was a nod. Seeing most of the knights speak up against his plea, Erim broke his silence,

"No!" All the knights swiftly turned their attention to the boy. "Please, you can't!"

The Matori turned his full attention to the boy and walked up to him and stood, towering in the open cage door. "Tell me boy. Why can't we?" The Matori was not scolding the boy for presuming to dictate terms. It was a challenge. If the boy could convince him with a reason great enough to risk their Covenant, then he wanted to hear it. "Tell me why."

Erim stared back up to the Matori. He felt his courage return.

"Do you protect people?" Erim asked. The Matori did not answer. "I think you do. I've prayed every night to Eyhro like my mother taught me. She told me I had to keep my promises to Him so that He'd protect me."

The Matori paused for a moment, then asked, "what promises did you make?"

"I promised Him that if He'd protect me and let me leave this place, then I'll take everyone with me. I pray to Him everyday, and I've made that promise every day for the past six." Erim paused, unsure if his words were having their desired effect on the man in front of him, as he could not see his face. He pleaded one last time. "Please! If you don't, he'll stop protecting me! If you don't I...I," the boy felt tears well up in his eyes and he looked down at his feet to hide them. After a moment, he looked back up to the Matori who had not looked away. "No one else will protect me...I-I...I'm all alone." Erim wanted to burst into tears, but something inside of him would not allow it, and he refused to look away from the Matori again.

"Matori." The Matori turned his gaze to the knight who had opened the cage. "The boy has his own Covenant and Eyhro chose us to be part of it. We can't forsake that and call ourselves Nahlarians. The Order demands it."

The Matori looked back at the boy, who now seemed to stand taller wih his chest puffed out, as if he was ready to fight. The Matori smiled beneath his helm and then turned to address his men.

"The boy's made his first Covenant, of which we are a party to - we will not forsake him."

The Matori turned to the knight who had first spoken against Erim's request, and nodded to him. The Knight - without hesitation - walked to the women's cage door, and opened it as easily as the last. The Nahlarians then began to beckon the men and women to step out and pulled the chains from their hands and feet as if they were tearing fabric. The slaves staggered out of their bondage, some requiring more help than others after having been left so weak. The knights who had Creitken pinned threw him over his desk and he crashed to the ground behind it.

Once the last of the men had escaped the cage, the Matori turned to Erim, "come boy." Erim stepped out of the cage while the knight who stood next to him ripped away his chains. They all began to walk to the exit, the last three knights to enter being the first to make their way.

Matori heard a snicker behind him.

"You! You think you'll make it out of the city?" Creitken began to pull himself back up to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth and a wound to his head. The Matori turned to face the lyker who stood in menace and defiance.

"You'll all die for this. Your men will be cut down and torn to pieces. Those slaves will be flogged to the bone, and the boy, " Creitken, stopped to spit blood on the floor, "the boy I'll have flayed, butchered, and scattered to the dirt!" The Matori ignored him and turned away.

Creitken let out a screech, baring his fangs and flared his talons. He leapt over the desk, landing on all fours before lunging at the Matori. The Matori turned to face the lunging lyker. In one fluid motion, he spun, clenched his right fist, and from his golden nahlysium came an energy sword - his aetherblade - and he stabbed the lyker. Striking his navel, he continued his stroke upward and sliced the slaver in two.

Erim and the slaves all stood in shock at the sight, while the Nahlarians looked to their leader unmoved. The Matori turned back to his men and their charges, and sheathed his aetherblade which retracted back into his nahlysium.

"We have only a few hours before the business of the market begins. We'd do well to be outside the city limits by then."

No orders were needed. The first three Nahlarians out the door formed a vanguard in the alley outside the pen, and beckoned the slaves to follow them, while the last three to follow made the rear.

Erim stood still, looking at the heap that was Creitken. Embers smouldered the edges of the aetherblade's strike while the orange scales along it were now burned black.

"What's your name, boy?" the Matori asked.

"Erim."

"Erim - do you know what it means?" the Matori asked the boy, who shook his head. "It means, 'forsaken'."

The boy looked down in shame, "I was named by my master. He was my father."

The Matori knelt down to be more on level with the boy, and Erim lifted his head to meet his gaze.

"From this day you'll now be known as...Teranos. It means, to be a man." Teranos looked at the knight in front of him, scarcely believing what had happened in a few short minutes.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

"I am Glaxidius, a Matori of the Nahlarian Order. We are chosen to face the trials to become a member - a Nahlarian Knight." Glaxidius saw the look of shock and wonderment on the boy's face. "Do not fret Teranos. Eyhro answered your prayers to take you from this place. You fulfilled your Covenant with Him - the first of a many you'll have for your lifetime. You too have been selected by Him to face the trails of our order." The knight placed a firm hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You, Teranos, are now an initiate. You are one of the Chosen."