Free The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) by RJ Blain Page A

curse rewarded Terin’s efforts. His teeth closed on flesh, and the man holding him howled and released him.
    Terin landed in icy water with a splash. His hands and forearms submerged first, followed by his head. The rest of him plunged in, sinking into the sluggish current of the sewer. A hand snatched at Terin’s hair and yanked him above the surface. Shudders ran through him, and if it weren’t for the hold on him, he would’ve fallen.
    A bare arm slipped around his throat from behind and squeezed, but not so hard he couldn’t breathe. A flexing of muscles warned Terin that he’d choke if he dared to move.
    He gagged at the foul taste in his mouth. At first he feared he was blind, then a ripple spread out around him. The sheen of light on water illuminated the outline of sludge-slicked walls. The rancid odor of the sewers struck him hard, suffocating him until tears stung at his eyes and his vision blurred.
    “That was foolish.”
    With those few words, sound assaulted Terin’s ears, triggering a throb that threatened to shatter his skull into countless pieces. He struggled to pull away from his captor, but his body refused to acknowledge his will.
    “Don’t try anything else, boy. It’ll hurt, you’ll lose, and I’ll be angry. Just keep quiet and behave,” his captor said. “I beat you once, and I can do it again.”
    Terin tried to make sense of the man’s words, but he couldn’t remember the voice, nor could he remember why he was in the sewers in the first place.
    Terin’s master hadn’t ordered him to venture beneath the city. The route to the Citizen’s estate had followed the promenade fringing Upper Erelith City to the decaying steps carved into the cliffs leading to Lower Erelith City.
    He didn’t remember leaving his perch beneath the estate while waiting for night to fall.
    “Who…?” His question emerged as a croak.
    “Don’t recognize me? I suppose our introduction was brief.” The man laughed. “I am Catsu. I’ve you to thank for freeing me from the arena. The least I could do was bring you with me, slave.”
    Terin flinched. The memory of wind and sand battering at him roused his awareness of drying scabs, bruises that throbbed in time with the beat of his heart, and the sting of fresh cuts. He writhed and grabbed at the arm wrapped around his throat.
    “You should be grateful for the chance at freedom,” the convict muttered. “Up and walk!”
    He wasn’t aware of the moment when Catsu’s arm slipped from his throat and seized the back of his neck. With a warning squeeze, Terin was hauled to his feet and shoved forward through the sludge.
    “What’s your number?”
    Terin struggled to draw a breath to answer, and his collar flared around his throat, driving away the cold from his soaked clothes. “734152.”
    “And your name?”
    “734152.” The collar’s warmth remained, the promise of punishment strengthening to the brink of real pain.
    “I asked for your name,” Catsu growled out.
    “That is my name,” Terin whispered. His number was his identity, and the existence of his secret name belonged to his master and no one else. Fear warred with self-loathing until Terin longed for the collar to tire of him and wipe it all away in a wave of agony.
    “A born slave, then? Hah. I’ll find some use for you. Who was your master?”
    Terin opened his mouth to reply, but he hesitated. The collar cooled, but he knew it was poised to strike him if he dared to speak his master’s name. When the expectant silence grew unbearable, he whispered, “I can’t say.”
    “An order? Even more curious. You’re lucky I’m a kind master,” Catsu murmured, his quiet tone chilling Terin more than the sewer water. “Why were you in the Arena?”
    At Terin’s silence, the collar’s heat grew until his pained breath hissed through his teeth. He struggled to find words—any—that wouldn’t violate the orders his master had given him.
    Catsu’s blunt fingernails dug into his