A Dream of Mortals (Book #15 in the Sorcerer's Ring) by Morgan Rice Read Free Book Online

hard
stone floor.
    Godfrey sat up, his head feeling like a million
pounds, and took in all his surroundings, a small prison cell containing just him
and his friends and a few others he did not know, and he took some solace in
the fact that, given how grim this cell looked, death might be coming for them
sooner rather than later. This jail was clearly different from the last one, feeling
more like a holding cell for those about to die.
    Godfrey heard, somewhere far away, the screams
of a prisoner being dragged away down a hall, and he realized: this place really
was a holding pen—for executions. He had heard of other executions in Volusia,
and he knew that he and the others would be dragged outside at first light and
become sport for the arena, so that its good citizens could watch them get torn
to death by the Razifs, before the real gladiator games began. That was why
they’d kept them alive this long. At least now it all made sense.
    Godfrey scrambled to his hands and knees,
reaching out and prodding each of his friends, trying to rouse them. His head
was spinning, he ached from every corner of his body, covered in lumps and
bruises, and it hurt to move. His last memory was of a soldier knocking him
out, and he realized he must have been pummeled by them after he was down. The
Finians, those treacherous cowards, clearly didn’t have it in them to kill him
themselves.
    Godfrey clutched his forehead, amazed that it
could hurt so much without even having a drink. He gained his feet unsteadily, knees
wobbling, and looked about the dark cell. A single guard stood outside the
bars, his back to him, barely watching. And yet these cells were made with
substantial locks and thick iron bars, and Godfrey knew there would be no easy
escape this time. This time, they were in until the death.
    Slowly, beside him, Akorth, Fulton, Ario, and
Merek gained their feet and they all studied their surroundings, too. He could
see the puzzlement and fear in their eyes—and then the regret, as they began to
remember.
    “Did they all die?” Ario asked, looking at
Godfrey.
    Godfrey felt a pain in his stomach as he slowly
nodded back.
    “It’s our fault,” Merek said. “We let them down.”
    “Yes, it is,” Godfrey replied, his voice
breaking.
    “I told you not to trust the Finians,” Akorth
said.
    “The question is not whose fault it is,” Ario
said, “but what we are going to do about it. Are we going to let all of our
brothers and sisters die in vain? Or are we going to gain vengeance?”
    Godfrey could see the seriousness in young Ario’s
face and he was impressed by his steely determination, even while imprisoned
and about to be killed.
    “Vengeance?” Akorth asked. “Are you mad? We are
locked beneath the earth, guarded by iron bars and Empire guards. All of our
men are dead. We’re in the midst of a hostile city and a hostile army. All of
our gold is gone. Our plans are ruined. What possible vengeance can we take?”
    “There’s always a way,” Ario said, determined.
He turned to Merek.
    All eyes turned to Merek, and he furrowed his
brow.
    “I am no expert on vengeance,” Merek said. “I
kill men as they bother me. I do not wait.”
    “But you are a master thief,” Ario said. “You’ve
spent your whole life in a prison cell, as you admit. Surely you can get us out
of this?”
    Merek turned and surveyed the cell, the bars,
the windows, keys, the guards—all of it—with an expert’s keen eye. He took it
all in, then looked back at them grimly.
    “This is no common prison cell,” he said. “It
must be a Finian cell. Very expensive craftsmanship. I see no weak points, no
way out, as much as I would wish to tell you otherwise.”
    Godfrey, feeling overwhelmed, trying to shut
out the screams of the other prisoners down the hall, walked to the prison cell
door, pressed his forehead against the cool and heavy iron, and closed his
eyes.
    “Bring him here!” boomed a voice from down the
stone hall.
    Godfrey opened