Celadonian Tales Vol: 1 Blood and Brass Read Online Free Page B
Author: Walter Shuler
Pain overwhelmed him and blinding white lights danced before his eyes. Then everything went dark, truly dark.
***
He came back from the murky depths of unconsciousness to pain. His head ached and throbbed, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Matt tried to open his eyes, but everything was blurry and indistinct. Vertigo washed over him and he snapped them shut once more.
What happened? He could feel something cold and sticky on the back of his neck. Matt tried to raise a hand to his head, but nothing happened.
Still groggy, he shook his head at the pain, and immediately noticed something else. He was leaning against something rough and hard that tore at his injured skull with the motion. What is this? He had his suspicions, though. Matt was becoming more aware now. Another attempt to raise his arms offered the same results. His hands were bound behind his back. As his faculties recovered, the rope biting into his wrists became obvious and painful.
He remembered the squeal of the door hinges and the blow to his head. Someone had surprised him, and Matt had a pretty good idea of just who that was.
Forcing his eyes open brought on another wave of vertigo, but Matt was determined. As his vision stopped swimming, he was able to take stock of his surroundings. Dim light illuminated the room, but the source of illumination was not immediately visible, because a huge stone table blocked his vision. It was a cold, white light, though, not the warm flicker of torches or candles.
The room was walled in stone, most of it rough and undressed. A flash of color told Matt all he needed to know – the red door through which he had entered, now shut tight, stood in the wall on his left. He was still in the treasure room, then. Glancing down to his belt told him his captor had taken his kit and his dagger.
A groan from his left made Matt whip his head around in alarm. The movement ignited agony in his skull, but he ignored it. Near him was another man, bound and lying on his side on the floor. A spill of dark hair hid the man's features from the thief, and the low light cloaked most of his body in shadow.
A scraping sound drew Matt's attention back to the rest of the room. Whatever it was came from beyond the table. It seemed that he should know the sound, but he could not place it. Footsteps echoed off the stone then, blocking out most of the scraping sounds. The footsteps drew nearer and Matt strained to catch a glimpse of his captor above the table.
A dark silhouette appeared. Whatever the light source was, it was behind the figure, and Matt was left with little but frustration; he could make out a fashionable coat, and the gleaming hilt of a sword on the figure's hip. His frustration ended a moment later when the figure spoke.
"Ah, Matthias, I'm pleased to see you're awake," Iharan's unctuous voice seemed to ooze around the room.
"So you did sell me out," Matt's voice came out as a croak. Iharan laughed, seeming to enjoy the scene.
"Sell you out? My dear man, I haven't sold you out at all! I practically opened the door for you myself!"
"And now? You'll hand me over to Sen, and then I'll hang." Matt's anger made his voice stronger.
"Sen? Pah! Why would I give you to that fool of a merchant? No, we have other plans for you."
"We?" Matt asked. "You mean the poor sot next to me?"
Iharan turned to stare at the man lying bound next to Matt. A strange look moved across his face; something hungry lurked beneath the servant's urbane façade.
"Him? No, Matthias, not him. Do you really not know who that is?" The servant seemed in a horrible good humor.
"No, should I?" Matt wondered if it really mattered.
"Ah!" Iharan moved forward to stand before the man, one hand extended toward him. "I present the great merchant himself!" Iharan executed a courtly bow. Matt felt his face redden at the mockery.
At the name, the prone man lifted his head, the dark hair that had hidden his features fell away and Matt’s pulse raced. It really was
***
He came back from the murky depths of unconsciousness to pain. His head ached and throbbed, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Matt tried to open his eyes, but everything was blurry and indistinct. Vertigo washed over him and he snapped them shut once more.
What happened? He could feel something cold and sticky on the back of his neck. Matt tried to raise a hand to his head, but nothing happened.
Still groggy, he shook his head at the pain, and immediately noticed something else. He was leaning against something rough and hard that tore at his injured skull with the motion. What is this? He had his suspicions, though. Matt was becoming more aware now. Another attempt to raise his arms offered the same results. His hands were bound behind his back. As his faculties recovered, the rope biting into his wrists became obvious and painful.
He remembered the squeal of the door hinges and the blow to his head. Someone had surprised him, and Matt had a pretty good idea of just who that was.
Forcing his eyes open brought on another wave of vertigo, but Matt was determined. As his vision stopped swimming, he was able to take stock of his surroundings. Dim light illuminated the room, but the source of illumination was not immediately visible, because a huge stone table blocked his vision. It was a cold, white light, though, not the warm flicker of torches or candles.
The room was walled in stone, most of it rough and undressed. A flash of color told Matt all he needed to know – the red door through which he had entered, now shut tight, stood in the wall on his left. He was still in the treasure room, then. Glancing down to his belt told him his captor had taken his kit and his dagger.
A groan from his left made Matt whip his head around in alarm. The movement ignited agony in his skull, but he ignored it. Near him was another man, bound and lying on his side on the floor. A spill of dark hair hid the man's features from the thief, and the low light cloaked most of his body in shadow.
A scraping sound drew Matt's attention back to the rest of the room. Whatever it was came from beyond the table. It seemed that he should know the sound, but he could not place it. Footsteps echoed off the stone then, blocking out most of the scraping sounds. The footsteps drew nearer and Matt strained to catch a glimpse of his captor above the table.
A dark silhouette appeared. Whatever the light source was, it was behind the figure, and Matt was left with little but frustration; he could make out a fashionable coat, and the gleaming hilt of a sword on the figure's hip. His frustration ended a moment later when the figure spoke.
"Ah, Matthias, I'm pleased to see you're awake," Iharan's unctuous voice seemed to ooze around the room.
"So you did sell me out," Matt's voice came out as a croak. Iharan laughed, seeming to enjoy the scene.
"Sell you out? My dear man, I haven't sold you out at all! I practically opened the door for you myself!"
"And now? You'll hand me over to Sen, and then I'll hang." Matt's anger made his voice stronger.
"Sen? Pah! Why would I give you to that fool of a merchant? No, we have other plans for you."
"We?" Matt asked. "You mean the poor sot next to me?"
Iharan turned to stare at the man lying bound next to Matt. A strange look moved across his face; something hungry lurked beneath the servant's urbane façade.
"Him? No, Matthias, not him. Do you really not know who that is?" The servant seemed in a horrible good humor.
"No, should I?" Matt wondered if it really mattered.
"Ah!" Iharan moved forward to stand before the man, one hand extended toward him. "I present the great merchant himself!" Iharan executed a courtly bow. Matt felt his face redden at the mockery.
At the name, the prone man lifted his head, the dark hair that had hidden his features fell away and Matt’s pulse raced. It really was
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