When Beldren woke, the shed was dimly lit by the sun. His empty stomach clenched and growled. His dry throat felt tight and scratchy. Though he worked up a mouthful of saliva, the thick, warm fluid did little to quench his thirst.
His friends hung, their legs bent and their bodies dangling by their arms. His own shoulders screamed from having done the same and he wondered how long they were supposed to live like this. There had to be a way to escape
A slave brought water, but no bread. Beldren gulped his portion and watched as Patrick tried to hold the liquid in his ruined mouth. The side of his face had doubled in size and a yellow crust formed over the incisions. Beldren remembered enough from his uncle's physician act to know that it was badly infected. Without treatment, Patrick woul
