Read Online Dirt (The Dirt Trilogy) by K. F. Ridley - Free Book Online Page A

torches mounted on the
stone walls provide a limited view of my surroundings.
    “
Who are you? Where am I?” I insist my fear breaking through
my uncertainty.
He ignores me. He’s on the other side of a set of bars that I
check in vain. My fears are confirmed; I’m locked in. His ominous
shadow
heads off with enthusiasm, like
a
kid who has
done
something he’s proud of. I sit in the corner dazed and alone. How
did I get here? Where is Rowen? Is this a nightmare? The slime of
my own skin lets me know this is real.
Three men march toward my cell. A tall, lanky man covered in
a cloak brown and black unlocks my cage.
“Straif wants to see you.” Air passes coarsely across his vocal
chords like that of a chain smoker. Straif, I remember Rowen
mentioning him. The Dark Thorn, they have me. My mind races and
panic travels along my nerves instigating the trembling of my
hands. Shadows around me reveal themselves. The men all look a
lot like Phagos and Duir, dark wrinkled skin, green piercing eyes,
long blond unkempt hair, and wearing long black skirts. Two of
them grab me tightly, one on each arm, forcing me to my feet.
“Move it,” one of them instructs.
“Follow me,” the tallest one demands.
I do as I’m told. I’ve no idea how I got here. The last thing I
remember was falling to sleep in the hut at Skewantee.
We walk up several flights of a stone stairwell, narrow, aged,
smelling of dust and revolt, with one man in front of me and two
men behind me. My pace slows and one following jabs me harshly
in the back with a cane.
“Straif doesn’t have all day.” His rough voice joins the chant of
his cane each time it hits the stone floor.
“Where are we going?” I have nine days left before I’m to
become their victim, so I thought I’d ask.
“We’re going to prepare for your birthday. And what a party
that will be,” the shortest of the three responds with a wicked sneer
and haunting tone.
“A little early don’t you think?” Sarcasm coats my words as I
ascend up the staircase.
“You’ll be eighteen in seven days and we’ve been waiting for
the day a very long time. Everything must be in order.” He speaks
as if he knows something I don’t. As if I’m unsuspecting of their
plans. I don’t know the details, but I know enough.
Seven days. I thought I had nine days before the dreaded day,
my eighteenth birthday. How long have I been here? Where is here.
I’ve lost two days.
I’m
shoved into a
huge
room beautifully
adorned with
enormous pieces of art. Most appear to be early Renaissance and
reveal magnificence. Huge columns support the ornate cathedral
ceilings. No chairs. No furniture. There’s a vacant podium which
extends along the full back of the room standing about three feet
above the black glistening, polished floors. They’re like ebony
mirrors clearly capturing each reflection. Specks of light from the
torches illuminates the enormous space.
A force pushes me again from behind by the tallest of the three
pawns making a surge of pain run from the middle of my back
down my side where his thick yellow fingernails pierce my skin
through my shirt.
I stumble to the middle of the room. My escorts remain by the
door
quiet,
pretentiously
awaiting
reward.
They’re
very
overconfident. Is my capture their accomplishment? I’m helpless,
alone, and worried about Rowen. I know this is bad, but it’s going
to get worse. I’ll be eighteen in seven days. I’ve lost time. Maybe
time is different here. Are the days shorter? It’s possible. Anything
is possible.
I’m not
feeling
myself. While
standing
here
helpless on
display, I realize I haven’t had my medicine since I arrived in Durt.
No one knows of my health problems, not even me. I only know I
have one. My unnamed illness may kill me before they do. The
thought of the unknown of what might happen if I don’t take the
yellow muck scares me to death. I’ve never really had to worry
about it until now. Because my illness has