tortured me weren’t great at reading emotion or intent. They specialize in pain. The only emotion they recognize is suffering.”
“We’re wearing our uniforms, though…”
Sanders couldn’t help glancing down at his crinkled blue uniform. He gave a quick look back and saw most of the uniforms to the front of the progression were also blue. He shrugged. “Blue isn’t an unusual color. Just keep your body language relaxed.”
“Most of these guys were at that battle, sir. Hard to be relaxed when you know what kind of pain they can inflict.”
Sanders ground his teeth in frustration as one of the Graygual took out his sword. The other followed suit a moment before an intense, searing pain cut out Sanders’ thoughts. It felt like hot coals were dumped into his head while claws raked across his throat. Searing heat pierced his gut and churned his stomach.
“Push through the pain and take them down. That’s the only way to end this!” Tears of agony trailed down Sanders’ face. He kicked the sides of his horse. The animal burst forward into a gallop, heading straight for the enemy. Hooves sounded off behind him as the men followed, not to be deterred by the mind power.
His eyes were attacked next, like hot needles pricked into his pupils. He squinted, trying to block out the pain. He leaned forward to increase the horse’s speed. His horse screamed. It reared, throwing him back. He clutched the reins and squeezed with his knees, barely holding on.
The horse screamed again, bucking wildly. Sanders’ body ripped to the side. His weight carried him as the horse bucked again, throwing him completely. His eyes snapped open in time to see the ground rushing toward his face. The torrent of pain cut off for a moment, giving him time to feel the full effect of his cheek smashing against the hard dirt. His head bounced, dizzying his thoughts.
More horses screamed. Face on fire but his body fine, Sanders bounced up and ripped out his sword. Only one man managed to hang on to the back of his animal. The rest were on the ground, scrambling up just like him. Then the second attack came.
Pain lanced his body, buckling his legs and stabbing his head. Bursts of light flashed behind his eyes. Claws raked down his chest. He staggered forward, falling, sword out, desperately trying to keep going. Trying to get at those Inkna. He couldn’t get off his knees, though. He couldn’t fight whatever they were doing to him enough to get to his feet.
A shiny, black boot crunched the dirt and stones in front of him. Another joined it. Sanders looked up through tear-drowned eyes. A black uniform with a red circle and four red slashes stared back at him. An immaculate sword came up, reflecting the late afternoon light in its polished blade.
“We have heard about you. Westwood Lands, yes? The man with scar. Big brave man. Your head will make the perfect warning for this Cap-a-tan I have heard about. And perhaps the Being Supreme will give me a nod for doing what the Inkna failed to do and kill you.” The tip of the sword came up. The flat of the blade touched the underside of Sanders’ chin and applied pressure. Sanders kept his head down, resisting the unspoken command to look up.
“Ah. Proud. There are ways around this, of course.” The blade tilted until the sharp bite of metal cut into his soft flesh.
Sanders sucked in a breath, but did not raise his head. They were going to kill him anyway, what was the point in going quietly? To that end, he said, “You know, I really hate your accent. It sounds like you’re chewing shit when you speak. And it’s Captain . Cap-tain.”
The pain keeping him grounded surged, stabbing through his body and knocking him forward onto his hands.
“You see? There are ways to make you obey,” the Graygual said.
“You’re not making me obey, your minions are. Doesn’t count. You’re still a pansy with your shiny boots and stupid, swirly sword. I’d call you a girl, but I know a girl who
“We’re wearing our uniforms, though…”
Sanders couldn’t help glancing down at his crinkled blue uniform. He gave a quick look back and saw most of the uniforms to the front of the progression were also blue. He shrugged. “Blue isn’t an unusual color. Just keep your body language relaxed.”
“Most of these guys were at that battle, sir. Hard to be relaxed when you know what kind of pain they can inflict.”
Sanders ground his teeth in frustration as one of the Graygual took out his sword. The other followed suit a moment before an intense, searing pain cut out Sanders’ thoughts. It felt like hot coals were dumped into his head while claws raked across his throat. Searing heat pierced his gut and churned his stomach.
“Push through the pain and take them down. That’s the only way to end this!” Tears of agony trailed down Sanders’ face. He kicked the sides of his horse. The animal burst forward into a gallop, heading straight for the enemy. Hooves sounded off behind him as the men followed, not to be deterred by the mind power.
His eyes were attacked next, like hot needles pricked into his pupils. He squinted, trying to block out the pain. He leaned forward to increase the horse’s speed. His horse screamed. It reared, throwing him back. He clutched the reins and squeezed with his knees, barely holding on.
The horse screamed again, bucking wildly. Sanders’ body ripped to the side. His weight carried him as the horse bucked again, throwing him completely. His eyes snapped open in time to see the ground rushing toward his face. The torrent of pain cut off for a moment, giving him time to feel the full effect of his cheek smashing against the hard dirt. His head bounced, dizzying his thoughts.
More horses screamed. Face on fire but his body fine, Sanders bounced up and ripped out his sword. Only one man managed to hang on to the back of his animal. The rest were on the ground, scrambling up just like him. Then the second attack came.
Pain lanced his body, buckling his legs and stabbing his head. Bursts of light flashed behind his eyes. Claws raked down his chest. He staggered forward, falling, sword out, desperately trying to keep going. Trying to get at those Inkna. He couldn’t get off his knees, though. He couldn’t fight whatever they were doing to him enough to get to his feet.
A shiny, black boot crunched the dirt and stones in front of him. Another joined it. Sanders looked up through tear-drowned eyes. A black uniform with a red circle and four red slashes stared back at him. An immaculate sword came up, reflecting the late afternoon light in its polished blade.
“We have heard about you. Westwood Lands, yes? The man with scar. Big brave man. Your head will make the perfect warning for this Cap-a-tan I have heard about. And perhaps the Being Supreme will give me a nod for doing what the Inkna failed to do and kill you.” The tip of the sword came up. The flat of the blade touched the underside of Sanders’ chin and applied pressure. Sanders kept his head down, resisting the unspoken command to look up.
“Ah. Proud. There are ways around this, of course.” The blade tilted until the sharp bite of metal cut into his soft flesh.
Sanders sucked in a breath, but did not raise his head. They were going to kill him anyway, what was the point in going quietly? To that end, he said, “You know, I really hate your accent. It sounds like you’re chewing shit when you speak. And it’s Captain . Cap-tain.”
The pain keeping him grounded surged, stabbing through his body and knocking him forward onto his hands.
“You see? There are ways to make you obey,” the Graygual said.
“You’re not making me obey, your minions are. Doesn’t count. You’re still a pansy with your shiny boots and stupid, swirly sword. I’d call you a girl, but I know a girl who
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