Free The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) by Clare Smith Page A

fought down the fear of what was going to happen next. The first blow of the club caught him between the shoulder blades, knocking the breath from him and the second blow caught him in the ribs making him grunt with the sudden pain as a rib cracked. The third landed on his stomach making him retch and drop to his knees where a boot in his side made him curl into a ball to protect his burnt stumps. Two more kicks came before Tallison gave the command to stop the beating.
    Jonderill lay on his side gasping for breath and praying to the Goddess to end his life but the Goddess once again ignored his prayers. Above him he could hear Tallison snarling and could feel his anger like waves at being defied. If he defied him a little more then perhaps he would lose control and kill him. He rolled to his knees and tried to stand but his legs were too weak to push him up onto his feet. A firm hand took him by the arm and Tozaman helped him to stand, steadying him until he had his balance.
    As he had hoped, Tallison was beside himself with anger but instead of giving the guards the order to kill him he took a step forward until he was so close that Jonderill could see the madness in his eyes. Tallison glared at him and then gave a bark of laughter. “You are clever, Callistares, but not clever enough for me. I’m not going to end your life now as you want; on the contrary, I am going to make it last a long, long time. Guards! Cage him!”
    The guards, reassured by the way the brotherlord had helped the prisoner to his feet, hurried forward to take hold of Jonderill and then screamed and leaped backwards as jagged sparks shot from Jonderill’s robe blistering their hands.
    Tallison shrieked with frustration and pointed at Tozaman. “You, Brotherlord, will put the magician back into his cage!” Tozaman hesitated caught between his wish to protect the magician and his need to preserve his own life which would be forfeit if he didn’t obey his lord. Tallison sensed the hesitation and turned back to the guards who were clutching burnt fingers. “Kill the brotherlord!”
    The guards hesitated; the brotherlords were powerful and commanded a thousand men each; to kill one would cause considerable unrest and resentment. They looked to their lord in case he had a change of heart but Tallison just repeated the command. The guard leader gave a brief nod of acknowledgement and all four drew their long, curved swords.
    “Stop.” said Jonderill quietly. “Enough people have died for me.”
    He walked forward and stared down at the cage, every fibre of his body screaming at him to run, even if that meant his death. Instead he wrapped his arms protectively in front of him, crouched down and moved backwards into the cage. He closed his eyes and prayed for the end to come quickly as the door snapped shut behind him.
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CHAPTER FOUR
    Kings, Captains and Commanders
     
    “Have you ever done anything like this before?”
    Commander Gadrin looked up from the map which was spread out on the camp table in front of him and studied the prince, trying to discern if there was any doubt in the young man’s face. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t accept that Newn would indeed be his king and wasn’t still the little boy he had put on his first pony. He had served King Hormand for years and had always known that his spoilt son, who used to cry if his own sons didn’t let him win whatever game it was they were playing, would one day be king. The boy had changed into a man, and given time he would be as good a king as his father had been. He only hoped there would be time and their current enterprise wouldn’t end in tears.
    “No, Your Majesty, but then again no one has. There hasn’t been a major conflict in the six kingdoms since before your father was a boy. Even the war between Leersland and Sandstrone was little more than a border skirmish.”
    Newn thought about it for a moment, trying to find the right