The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal) by Brian Beam

would be left unchecked to bring terror upon Amirand.  Therefore, I reacted as I always did in situations like this.
    “Be careful, those things above your eyes look ready to bite,” I said without a hint of tashave leaf effects, flashing Jefren a condescending smirk.  The only thing I have to say about what happened next is that backhanded strikes hurt, especially when leather bracers are involved.  The small bit of pride in insulting my captor was masked by the taste of blood on my tongue.
    Jefren snorted.  “You do not look like much to me,” he rasped, the hoarseness of his voice making him sound as if he’d smoked a pipe his entire life. 
    “Trust me, Jefren,” Kait cut in as she stepped forward into the tent.  “Korin is worthy of one of the stones—more so than the men we have now.  I saw how he fought.  This man’s had training.  If not for my magic, I doubt we could’ve taken him.  Also, we can use him to find the Kolarin.”  Her eyes stayed on me the entire time, her full lips frozen in a lofty smile.
    Jefren’s eyes narrowed until I couldn’t even tell if they were open.  “Are you certain?  He is so young.”
    “As certain as my hatred for the Rizear-blighted beasts that will soon feel our wrath,” Kait’ answered smoothly.
    “I trust you,” Jefren conceded, taking his eyes from me and starting for the tent flap.  “Briscott, fetch Oslen and have him take care of Korin, here.  If he lives, we’ll see what he knows about the Kolarin and strike camp.  I’ll be back to give him orders shortly.  I want him ready by this afternoon.  Understood?”
    “Yes, Jefren,” Briscott answered meekly, his face a mask of gloom.
    I took a little pleasure in the fact that Jefren couldn’t make a dignified exit, waddling due to the low ceiling of the tent.  Kait’ flashed me a devious, toothy grin before following after him.
    “I really don’t like him,” I muttered, shaking my head. 
    “He really was a good man once,” Briscott countered sullenly.
    “Well, that does me no good now.”  I exhaled slowly, trying to get my tensed muscles to relax.  Relaxing isn’t easy once you’ve discovered that you may not live through the next hour of your life.  “So, this might kill me.”  It wasn’t a question.
    Briscott’s once friendly face held nothing but regretful sorrow.  “I should’ve told you about this first . . . I just didn’t want to . . . I’m sorry.  Given the results we’ve had so far with the rocks, you have about as much chance of living through the process as not.  I’ll do all I can to make sure you make it through.” 
    Briscott turned, presumably to retrieve Oslen per Jefren’s orders.  Once this Oslen pounded one of the green gems into my chest, I’d also be subject to Jefren’s whims.  The very thought twisted my stomach and threatened to do the same to my sanity.
    “Briscott,” I called before he left the tent.  “Please tell me you were a physicker back in Gualain.”  It was a bit much to hope for with the poor stitching on my shoulder, but I was looking for any possible reassurance that I’d live through the day.  That I’d live to find a way to break free.  That I’d live to help my friends.
    “Sorry, just a simple sawmill operator,” Briscott answered with a ghost of a smile.  “I can make sure you get a nice coffin, though.”
    Even in such an ominous situation, I couldn’t help but laugh.
     
    ****
     
    Slamming the door to my room in a fit of childish anger, I threw myself onto the soft pallet that served as my bed.  I couldn’t believe how unfair Mother and Father were being.  All the other kids were allowed to play in the hills at the base of the Ravenspire Mountains.  I was stuck with parents who were scared I’d be attacked by grazils or hornbears.
    My door didn’t have a latch, so Max just pushed his way in and sat on his haunches next to the pallet.  His gray fur, striped with black, was, as always, cleaner