Dragonfire by Karleen Bradford Page A

unable to invade his mind as he had been doing more and more, and had lost track of him?
    Dahl’s thoughts began to race. If that were so, then he had scored a victory. He was within the castle itself, and the Usurper knew it not! A small flame of hope began to kindle itself inside him. The bargaining finally came to an end. Dahl had been so busy with his thoughts that he had not heard the final price, nor did he now care. The leader of the band passed Dahl’s tether over to the guard, turned his horse and rode away. The guard called to one of the others and handed Dahl over to him.
    “Take him to the stables. Chain him until we are ready to use him.”
    This guard marched Dahl along a path that led around and behind the castle. The courtyard stank and ran with sewage. A wretched woman, stooped and bent with age, emerged from what had to be the kitchens and emptied a bucket of slops onto the cobbles. Immediately, two mangy curs appeared and began to fight over the bits of garbage. Stables ran along one side. Only here was there any semblance of cleanliness. Each horse was well groomed andshining; the straw within each stall was clean. Not so, however, was the stall into which Dahl was thrown. The straw here was befouled and had not been changed in months. The stench was such that it stung Dahl’s eyes and took away his breath. Chains ending in wrist shackles were fastened into one wall. The guard untied Dahl’s hands, then forced them into the shackles and clicked the locks shut.
    “How long must I stay here?” Dahl burst out. “What is to be done with me?”
    The guard looked at Dahl as if he were mad.
    “You dare to speak?” he growled. He drew his sword and swung it with one smooth motion. Dahl tried to duck, but his movements were limited. The flat of the sword hit him on the side of the head, just above the dragon’s burn, drawing blood. “Speak again and it will be your last sentence, slave. I do not show mercy twice.” He swung around on his heel and left.
    Dahl sank down onto the filthy straw. He could stand or sit leaning against the wall, but nothing else. It was noon now, and the sun was at its hottest. His head ached with the pain of the sword blow. To add to his torment, flies buzzed around his head, lighting on the thin stream of blood that flowed down his temple. He couldn’t reach to wave them off. Sweat poured down into his eyes. He could do nothing about that either. Within minutes he began to itch. Fleas undoubtedly kept him company in thisdisgusting bed. On top of everything else, hunger began to gnaw at him. He had had nothing to eat that day. Even the dry grain of the Sele would have been welcome now.
    A scuffling at the entrance to the stable startled him. A lean, hungry-looking brown dog skulked in. For a moment Dahl’s heart leaped, but the dog snarled and cringed back out.
    The side of his face burned. He had lost the jar of ointment the Sele had given him in his struggle with the man who had captured him. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Black dizziness finally overwhelmed him.
    He awoke later that afternoon. His head throbbed and his cheek burned even more deeply. Other slaves came to tend the horses, but no one came near Dahl or spoke to him. To his hunger was now added a raging thirst. As the day wore on, the heat became more intense; the stall where he was imprisoned, stifling. He was tempted to call out to one of the others, but the thought of the guard stopped him. None of the slaves spoke a word as they worked. Dahl watched them. They were all young boys or men, all emaciated and sickly looking. Even the youngest ofthem was bent, with disease or discouragement, or more likely both. Their faces were blank, almost as if they were unconscious.
    A sudden commotion startled him. In one of the stalls a horse—a magnificent roan—reared and let out a cry of fury as a slave entered. Its hooves lashed out. One caught the slave full on the side of the head.