Shadow War: Book 3 of the Shadows Rising Trilogy (WIP Rough Draft)

34. Tightrope

1st of Thema

Clack clack clack clack.

I stared at my canvas shoes. Breathe. You can do this. I ground my teeth and tried to steel myself for what was coming.

Clack clack clack clack.

My breath burned the back of my throat, my heartbeat kicking into a gallop.

Clack clack clack...

And that's your cue. Come on, you can do this. You've survived before, just — I ducked my head as the pointed toes of those awful black patent boots came into view, and a small, pathetic little whimper squeezed from my throat.

Clack.

The kreighvalden came to a halt in front of me.

Click. Those black boots swiveled, the heels snapping smartly together.

"Why is that one still here?"

Mousy Assistant flipped through her ledger for a moment, then whispered, "She has been fulfilling her labor quota, Kreighvalden. There have been no complaints."

My breath burned in my lungs. I shut my eyes and hunched my shoulders a tiny bit.

There was an unimpressed grunt. "It has been fulfilling its quota," the kreigvalden repeated slowly. "Well. We shall have to do something about that. I'm growing tired of looking at it."

One of the guards came fast-stepping down the line, planted a hand on my backside, and sent me stumbling forward into the middle of the aisle. I tripped and went down on my knees in the dust and straw.

The slap of leather — the riding whip against the kreighvalden's gloved palm — was all the warning I got. It was all I ever got. The first lash had me hissing in a breath through my teeth as pain curled over my shoulder. Once. Twice. Three times. I made sure to cringe with each blow but somehow held onto the sounds trying to tear out of me. I had to get to at least seven. Come on, you batfaced bottomdwelling slug-eating — Another slash of the whip wrapped around my ribs, sending an arc of fire racing through my lungs. With a gasp, I struggled to keep my arms straight. Three more.

Above me, the kreighvalden heaved a heavy sigh. "So stubborn."

Through a haze of pain, I listed a little sideways. Come on, Hagface, buy what I'm selling! Three more!

Again, the whip sliced through the air, biting into the bare skin at the back of my neck, then across my shoulders, then across the small of my back. And with that, I stopped fighting and let my arms buckle, collapsing into a shaking heap.

After a moment, there was a 'tsk tsk tsk,' of tongue on teeth, and then the kreighvalden turned and walked away. For one long, drawn-out heartbeat, I thought maybe I had failed. Dazed, I tried to summon the will to push myself back up for round two, but then there were quick footsteps, and hands were grabbing my arms, and I was hauled roughly off the ground.

I almost laughed, but the only sound that came out was a wheeze when I discovered it was Rushidi and Meera doing the hauling. Glorious.

For some insane reason, they didn't say anything. They just 'helped' me along. I let my head loll and allowed them to drag me out of the barn and up the track to the gatehouse, but then got my feet under me when we were past the fence. By the time was had started the long trek to the canteen, Rushidi relaxed her grip on my jumpsuit, then let go of me entirely, seeming content to let me do the work of walking up the hill on my own. To my surprise, she didn't leave. She walked along next to me, studying me, then shook her head. "You must be crazy stupid, filla."