The Bloodstone Prophecy - Book 2 (complete)

Chapter 28 - Threats

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Liam sat in his cell, his head bowed in his hands. He had sat in the same position hour after agonizing hour, breathing in the dank, dead air and trying to keep his dark thoughts at bay, trying not to imagine all the horrific things the queen might do to Yasmin and her grandmother. He should have kept his fat mouth shut. It seemed impossible not to lash back at the queen, but for Kami's sake, and for the sake of her family, he should have tried. Now the queen was going to kill them, and while it wasn't exactly his fault, angering her had been stupid. He should have kept quiet. He should have ... well, it was too late for should haves.

Liam stared with dull eyes at the little rat skeleton still lying on the ground. He probably should have kicked it into the corner, but he hadn't wanted to go near it. He vividly remembered the shadow bees stripping the flesh from the rat's bones, and the sound of it's dying screams still echoed in his ears. He forced the thought away. There was no point in torturing himself with the possibilities.

The stone wall felt hard against his back. He shifted, but could find no comfortable position. His stomach growled. When was the last time he'd eaten? He couldn't remember, nor could he remember ever feeling so hungry and exhausted.

Liam heard a scraping sound, then a thud as someone pushed the door open and banged it against the wall. He looked up, expecting the guard that normally delivered his food. Instead, he saw several pairs of combat boots. He counted the figures before him. How many were there? At least four?

The guards were all dressed in the normal black uniforms and crowded into the small cell. One of them stepped on the rat's bones with a sickening crunch. Liam winced at the sound.

Another man grabbed Liam and pulled him to his feet, then shoved him to the ground onto his knees. He was an ugly bloke, with a pocked face and two large scars on his face that appeared like he'd been slashed with a knife-one that stretched from his forehead to his left ear and another smaller one on his chin. The man was about Liam's height, with muscular thighs and biceps that bulged under his shirt sleeves that were rolled to his elbows. A thick mustache covered his upper lip and he wore two thick gold rings on his beefy index finger and pinkie.

The guard scowled at Liam, and with a sudden movement, tore the shirt from Liam's back, leaving his torso exposed. The man barked out an order. Liam felt a stinging sensation on his stomach. He looked down in shock to see a thin red stripe that thickened and oozed blood. One of the guards must have whipped him!

Before he could discern which one had dealt the blow, Liam felt another sting on his back, then on his right side, then on his left. He held up his arms to protect his face as the blows rained down from every angle.

Excruciating pain shot through his body, and he bowed under the weight of it and curled his body into a fetal position. This seemed to anger the guard. He grabbed Liam's shoulder and pulled him back to kneel upright again. Then the whipping started all over again.

The flogging seemed to last an eternity, but it was probably no more than a minute. The guard with the mustache ordered the others to halt and pulled Liam up into a standing position. He swayed and nearly fell back to his knees, but a sharp jab on the injury on his lower back made it clear that was unacceptable. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to remain standing.

Liam's body burned with the bleeding stripes that crisscrossed his body. The guard yelled something, but he couldn't comprehend it. His ears were ringing and his vision blurred. He concentrated on the words. Move? Was that what the guard was telling him to do?

He put one foot in front of the next. The guard yelled at him to move even faster and jabbed him again. Though his wounds ached with every step, he pushed himself to keep moving. At least his vision was clearing and the buzzing in his head was receding.