The Unfortunate Slave Master by Phillip Hill

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He would listen to no reason; his wrath flowed like water from an overturned cask. The master beat him until he fell into the streets. He could remember no more.

Enos took up his staff and began walking again, his only aim was to increase the distance between himself and the master's village. He walked until the sun came up. It was then that he found the pool of water. There were a few scrawny trees and many large rocks circling it. The trees held fruit and the water tasted clean and cool as he fell to his knees and drank. He stared deeply into the pool. His mind was blank. He had no future and did not wish to remember the past. He only stared. The sun sparkled and danced on the surface. It seemed as if the pool had no bottom. The music was slow and sweet.

Enos could not breath. He was underwater and only a faint light could be seen above. He felt cold hands clutching at his feet, pulling him down. He kicked but the hands clasped tighter. His lungs burned and he saw the light above getting smaller. Anger flooded over him. Rage filled him. He grabbed a hand and pulled himself down towards the unseen menace, down into the dark. He felt flesh and put it into his mouth, biting with all the strength of his rage. He tore and gouged at soft flesh until it ceased to move in his hands. He carried it upwards into the light and laid it on the dry land. He lay gasping as he stared at the pale, heaving creature before him. It spoke to his mind.

"I will die," it said, "return me to the water, I beg you."

"I should stake you to the ground with this staff!" shouted Enos. "Why did you try to kill me?"

"You do not belong here" came the weak reply.

"What are you?" the slave asked.

"I am that which lives below."

"Why should I not let you die?"

"Because you are a merciful man," it answered.

Enos paused. The creature spoke the truth. He was a craftsman who had earned much gold for his master. He had never intentionally killed anything in his life. He pushed the creature into the pool with his foot. It slowly sank below the waters as it spoke once again to his mind:

"Follow the setting sun until you come to the pit. That is where It sleeps. Rub your body with the five-leafed plant that grows beside this pool so that It will not smell you and awaken. Above all, be silent!"

The slave pondered the words of the water creature. It was a foolish man who entered the lair of that which it feared to awaken. It seemed folly to even contemplate such an action yet curiosity stirred in the heart of Enos and would not let him rest. He lay in the shade until the stars came out. He gathered handfuls of the five-leafed plant, took his staff, and began walking west.

Enos reached the pit at sunrise. It was a great hole, gently sloping downwards and ending in darkness. Boulders and shrubs surrounded it. He was tired and should have slept before entering but he could not restrain himself. He took the sticky leaves of the plant and rubbed them on his body. Quietly he descended into the dark hole. The life of a slave had honed his reflexes; he was as noiseless and surefooted as a man could be.