The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) by Clare Smith Read Free Book Online
Authors: Clare Smith
the remainder of the maggots. Jonderill gritted his teeth against the pain, concentrating all his thoughts on his life flame. When the man had done Jonderill opened his eyes and dared to look at the results. The stumps were blackened and scabbed but the yellowish hue and the smell of rot had gone. He looked at the man who smiled back in satisfaction and held up the skin for Jonderill to take another three gulps.
“Thank you, my friend.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to curse the man for keeping him alive, but he looked so pleased with himself that Jonderill didn’t have the heart to knock him down. Apart from that he was curious. “You’re not one of them?”
“Good Goddess no, my name is Rothers, Lord Rothers of Northshield, heir to the throne.” For a moment he stood a little straighter and looked almost proud until his shoulders slumped once again. “I’m Tallison’s slave and his whore when he’s not fucking children.”
Jonderill frowned in confusion; he had been to Northshield and knew there was no heir. “I don’t understand.”
“My cousin, King Borman, the treacherous bastard, left me here to die. I tried to escape once and they didn’t even bother to come searching for me. You see there’s nothing but desert all around us, so I had to come back again, but now you are here you can use your magic to get us both away from this place.”
Jonderill closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find a way to make his new friend understand that he had endangered himself for nothing, but before he could sort out the right words there was shouting from outside the pavilion and Rothers scuttled away out of view. He heard the door flap of the pavilion being drawn back and the shouting increased in volume filling the pavilion with noise and anger. Above the other sounds he recognised Tallison’s high pitched shrieking but the other voices, deep and urgent, were new. He didn’t know how many people there were in the pavilion but there had to be quite a few; he could tell that by the heavy footfalls and the creak of leather holding steel.
In amongst the confusion there was the light tread and fast breathing of the girl. She left the others arguing amongst themselves and came to the cage glaring at the prisoner and scowling down at the abandoned water skin. It was her scream of rage which silenced the raised voices. Tallison hurried forward, coming into Jonderill’s field of vision and standing next to the girl, his face contorted with rage.
“He’s been given water,” she screamed. “I gave orders that he was to thirst but that slave has allowed him to drink!”
Tallison silenced her instantly with a chopping motion of his hand. “That’s unimportant; we can deal with that cur later, for now we have more urgent matters. I will show my disbelieving people that I, the magnificent Tallison, beloved of Talis, have the power of life and death over the mightiest of beings. Only I, Tallison, can humble a magician and bring him to his knees. I will show them what I can do and they will tremble at my feet.” He turned to the men who had gathered behind him. “Get him out.”
He handed them a small key from a chain around his neck which the largest of the guards slipped into the lock, turned and then pulled the door open. Instantly Jonderill could feel the release of pressure on his arms as their burnt stumps sprang away from the confinement of his body. Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and heaved him from the cage dropping him heavily on the floor. Jonderill lay there panting with the pain and unable to move, his muscles numb and his joints locked in place. Tallison kicked him in the side in his frustration but it did nothing to help him straighten his back or his limbs.
Two guards grabbed him and hauled him upwards and he shrieked with the sudden agony as his back straightened and his legs dangled beneath him. He could feel his heart beating very fast and erratically and his vision started
“Thank you, my friend.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to curse the man for keeping him alive, but he looked so pleased with himself that Jonderill didn’t have the heart to knock him down. Apart from that he was curious. “You’re not one of them?”
“Good Goddess no, my name is Rothers, Lord Rothers of Northshield, heir to the throne.” For a moment he stood a little straighter and looked almost proud until his shoulders slumped once again. “I’m Tallison’s slave and his whore when he’s not fucking children.”
Jonderill frowned in confusion; he had been to Northshield and knew there was no heir. “I don’t understand.”
“My cousin, King Borman, the treacherous bastard, left me here to die. I tried to escape once and they didn’t even bother to come searching for me. You see there’s nothing but desert all around us, so I had to come back again, but now you are here you can use your magic to get us both away from this place.”
Jonderill closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find a way to make his new friend understand that he had endangered himself for nothing, but before he could sort out the right words there was shouting from outside the pavilion and Rothers scuttled away out of view. He heard the door flap of the pavilion being drawn back and the shouting increased in volume filling the pavilion with noise and anger. Above the other sounds he recognised Tallison’s high pitched shrieking but the other voices, deep and urgent, were new. He didn’t know how many people there were in the pavilion but there had to be quite a few; he could tell that by the heavy footfalls and the creak of leather holding steel.
In amongst the confusion there was the light tread and fast breathing of the girl. She left the others arguing amongst themselves and came to the cage glaring at the prisoner and scowling down at the abandoned water skin. It was her scream of rage which silenced the raised voices. Tallison hurried forward, coming into Jonderill’s field of vision and standing next to the girl, his face contorted with rage.
“He’s been given water,” she screamed. “I gave orders that he was to thirst but that slave has allowed him to drink!”
Tallison silenced her instantly with a chopping motion of his hand. “That’s unimportant; we can deal with that cur later, for now we have more urgent matters. I will show my disbelieving people that I, the magnificent Tallison, beloved of Talis, have the power of life and death over the mightiest of beings. Only I, Tallison, can humble a magician and bring him to his knees. I will show them what I can do and they will tremble at my feet.” He turned to the men who had gathered behind him. “Get him out.”
He handed them a small key from a chain around his neck which the largest of the guards slipped into the lock, turned and then pulled the door open. Instantly Jonderill could feel the release of pressure on his arms as their burnt stumps sprang away from the confinement of his body. Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and heaved him from the cage dropping him heavily on the floor. Jonderill lay there panting with the pain and unable to move, his muscles numb and his joints locked in place. Tallison kicked him in the side in his frustration but it did nothing to help him straighten his back or his limbs.
Two guards grabbed him and hauled him upwards and he shrieked with the sudden agony as his back straightened and his legs dangled beneath him. He could feel his heart beating very fast and erratically and his vision started