Read Online The White Robe by Clare Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Clare Smith
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Fantasy, Horror, Epic, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Genre Fiction, dark fantasy, Sword & Sorcery
Ads: Link
closely packed in the wagon. He tried to roll over and get to his knees, but his hands were firmly tied to rings in the floor so instead he turned his head to one side and vomited bile onto the wagon floor.
“Agh, puke, more stink,” croaked a voice next to him.
Jonderill turned his head away from the reek of his own vomit and tried to focus his blurred vision on the man who had spoken. “Where are we?”
“In Fubrig’s caravan on the way to Essenland’s silver mines, that’s if any of us live that long.” The speaker gave a hacking cough and spat red phlegm on the floor.
“But how? There’s no slavery in the six kingdoms.”
The man gave a cynical laugh. “Yer got anyone who’s goin’ to miss yer, boy? See, this is ‘ow Borman gets rid of those ‘e don’t want in ‘is kingdom; the ‘omeless and the beggars. ‘E sells them ter Fubrig and ‘e sells them to Essenland to work in their mines. Turns enough profit fer everyone ter turn a blind eye ter what’s goin’ on.”
“But King Porteous would never allow that to happen.”
“Where you been ‘iding mate? Porteous, the old windbag, don’t know owt about it, it’s that bastard Vorgret that does it an’ now that Porteous ‘as abdicated an’ Vorgret is king, there aint no stopping ‘im.”
Jonderill swallowed hard. It wasn’t the first time he had been sold but that had been as a stable hand and then a kitchen boy, being a slave and digging silver in a mine was a whole different matter. He lay back on the bouncing floor, closed his eyes and tried to think of a way out of his situation.
Without any warning he was thrown into the air and then sharply yanked back down again by the ropes around his hands which tethered him to the floor. Around him men screamed as they were thrown around from one wall to another as the wagon rolled drunkenly from side to side in its forward career over the rough roadway. The man he had been talking to was thrown into his side knocking the breath from him and then his legs were whipped away again as he lost his grip on the rings which secured Jonderill to the floor.
On the other side of the wagon there was a scream followed by a crack as another of the prisoners was thrown against the side of the wagon, his head hitting the rough metal side supports. Blood sprayed across Jonderill’s face mixed with the loose effluent which coated the wagon floor.
Jonderill tried to roll away but as he did so his world turned upside down. His body hit the wooden sides of the wagon with a thud that sent spikes of pain through every part of him and then he was yanked downwards with his feet scraping the top corner of the wagon until he was standing on the ceiling with his arms twisted behind his back and anchored to the floor above him. He balanced on his toes as the wagon swayed and settled knowing that his slightest move would break his arms or dislocate them from his shoulders.
An eerie silence settled over the wagon with only the occasional cough or groan to show that there were others still alive around him. Outside of his upside down world there were the distant sounds of clashing steel and the shouts of fighting which faded away into silence.
He really needed to relieve the pressure on his arms and toes but dared not move. Instead he took a deep breath and shouted for help but the rasping croak which was all he could manage was barely loud enough to echo around the wagon. He spat out the blood in his mouth where he’d bitten his tongue and tried again but the cry was still not loud enough to carry beyond the wagon doors. Flickering lights started to dance in front of his eyes and the edges of his vision darkened. Close to passing out he closed his eyes searching for a focus and with the last of his fading energy screamed out for help in his mind.
With his arms being slowly pulled from their sockets he balanced on his toes and fought to remain conscious. Next to
“Agh, puke, more stink,” croaked a voice next to him.
Jonderill turned his head away from the reek of his own vomit and tried to focus his blurred vision on the man who had spoken. “Where are we?”
“In Fubrig’s caravan on the way to Essenland’s silver mines, that’s if any of us live that long.” The speaker gave a hacking cough and spat red phlegm on the floor.
“But how? There’s no slavery in the six kingdoms.”
The man gave a cynical laugh. “Yer got anyone who’s goin’ to miss yer, boy? See, this is ‘ow Borman gets rid of those ‘e don’t want in ‘is kingdom; the ‘omeless and the beggars. ‘E sells them ter Fubrig and ‘e sells them to Essenland to work in their mines. Turns enough profit fer everyone ter turn a blind eye ter what’s goin’ on.”
“But King Porteous would never allow that to happen.”
“Where you been ‘iding mate? Porteous, the old windbag, don’t know owt about it, it’s that bastard Vorgret that does it an’ now that Porteous ‘as abdicated an’ Vorgret is king, there aint no stopping ‘im.”
Jonderill swallowed hard. It wasn’t the first time he had been sold but that had been as a stable hand and then a kitchen boy, being a slave and digging silver in a mine was a whole different matter. He lay back on the bouncing floor, closed his eyes and tried to think of a way out of his situation.
Without any warning he was thrown into the air and then sharply yanked back down again by the ropes around his hands which tethered him to the floor. Around him men screamed as they were thrown around from one wall to another as the wagon rolled drunkenly from side to side in its forward career over the rough roadway. The man he had been talking to was thrown into his side knocking the breath from him and then his legs were whipped away again as he lost his grip on the rings which secured Jonderill to the floor.
On the other side of the wagon there was a scream followed by a crack as another of the prisoners was thrown against the side of the wagon, his head hitting the rough metal side supports. Blood sprayed across Jonderill’s face mixed with the loose effluent which coated the wagon floor.
Jonderill tried to roll away but as he did so his world turned upside down. His body hit the wooden sides of the wagon with a thud that sent spikes of pain through every part of him and then he was yanked downwards with his feet scraping the top corner of the wagon until he was standing on the ceiling with his arms twisted behind his back and anchored to the floor above him. He balanced on his toes as the wagon swayed and settled knowing that his slightest move would break his arms or dislocate them from his shoulders.
An eerie silence settled over the wagon with only the occasional cough or groan to show that there were others still alive around him. Outside of his upside down world there were the distant sounds of clashing steel and the shouts of fighting which faded away into silence.
He really needed to relieve the pressure on his arms and toes but dared not move. Instead he took a deep breath and shouted for help but the rasping croak which was all he could manage was barely loud enough to echo around the wagon. He spat out the blood in his mouth where he’d bitten his tongue and tried again but the cry was still not loud enough to carry beyond the wagon doors. Flickering lights started to dance in front of his eyes and the edges of his vision darkened. Close to passing out he closed his eyes searching for a focus and with the last of his fading energy screamed out for help in his mind.
With his arms being slowly pulled from their sockets he balanced on his toes and fought to remain conscious. Next to
Similar Books
