Free The Greater Challenge Beyond (The Southern Continent Series Book 3) by Jeffrey Quyle Page B

motion stopped.  She paused before answering.
    “I can’t guess,” she swallowed, then cut the first stitch.
    “You’ll remember me, won’t you?  You’ll remember how you helped sentence me to death by giving me that sleeping potion?” Grange asked.
    “I only did what they ordered me to,” she finally said in a low voice as she continued to cut the stitches.  She was no longer making eye contact.  Grange felt a series of stings as she said no more, but pulled the cut stitches free.
    “Your legs will be fine with a little healing,” she told him.  “I hope the rest of you will be fine too,” she spoke in a lower voice, moving her face closer to his ear so that he could hear.  “I’ll pray to Miriam for you.”  She stood, and walked away, then Grange heard her voice, out of sight, speaking in the native tongue with someone.
    “Come on,” a man’s voice said, and four guards appeared.  They casually lifted the plank that Grange lay on and walked with it, from inside the castle to the outdoors.  The raised and lowered the plank into the well of the bed of a wagon, all without saying a word to Grange or to each other.  As Grange looked up, a pair of wide planks were loosely placed over the top of the space he was in.  Thin cracks of light streamed down upon him, and he was effectively hidden from view of the outside world.
    There was a sharp rapping on the false wooden floor overhead.
    “You keep silent down there now, do you hear me?” Oehla’s voice grunted.  “I don’t want a single person to hear anything from you until we’re inside the palace.  Do you understand?”
    “I’m not a traitor.  I’m not a Bloomingian,” Grange answered.
    “Answer my question or you’ll suffer,” Oehla said sharply.
    “I’ll be quiet,” Grange ageed.
    Oehla slapped the wood slats sharply, then said no more.  A minute later, the wagon jerked into motion, and Grange found himself being transported as a prisoner, bound for the city of Southgar.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter 8
     
    The wagon took two days to reach the city of Southgar.   The ride left Grange bruised and exhausted, as the vehicle traveled over bumpy country roads and round-about ways to avoid the risk of passing directly by Hope on her own journey to the city on the shores of Lake Parime.  Grange was briefly released at intervals and allowed to walk about, though his hands were tied, but he was inevitably returned to his hidden compartment for every leg of the journey.
    He heard the voices of the guards on the wagon talking to others as the wagon passed through the city, and then was sent through the palace gates.  The wagon entered a shaded area, and Grange heard large doors closed, then the boards above him were removed, and he was lifted from his confinement.
    He was in an enclosed porte cochere, and there were not only Oehla and the guards from Skengare, but a quartet of other guards, men wearing silver and blue in their uniforms that were similar to the gown Hope had worn when Grange had last seen her.
    “We turn the traitor over to the palace for interrogation,” Oehla said formally, addressing the man who appeared older, apparently the officer of the palace guards.
    “We accept responsibility for disposal of the traitor,” the man said just as formally, saluting Oehla as he did.
    “There hasn’t been a traitor to dispose of.  I’m not a traitor,” Grange said loudly.
    The officer looked over at him with a withering expression.
    “Take him to the north chambers,” he addressed his guards.
    “Will you come in and visit with us?” he turned to speak to Oehla in a casual tone, as the guards responded by laying hands on Grange and lifting him to the ground, then marching him through passages of the palace.  Within ten minutes he was in an underground dungeon, locked away from people and sunlight once again.
    Hours later, Grange heard the clanging of a distant door, and the steps of approaching feet.  They