Hammerhold Tales: Thrallborn Read Online Free

or when an open wound was dragged along the rugged earth. Those sorts of wounds were appearing more frequently as the long march continued.
    Sawain tried to return to his feet three more times in the first hour, only to be struck down again by his ruthless taskmaster. By the third time, Sawain did not have the strength to rise again. His tunic was torn ragged and soaked in blood. His legs were throbbing with excruciating pain. He did not have the energy to hold back his tears or cries of pain as he bounced along.
    Sawain fought with all he had left to stay conscious despite the wracking pain that constantly besieged his body. Small rocks had embedded themselves in the bloody gashes the ground tore into his flesh. They marched on for another hour. Sawain felt the life slipping from him. He was tired. Though he bounced along, things didn’t hurt as bad anymore. He was just going to sleep. His eyes drooped, but before he fell asleep, he felt two strong arms lift him from the ground. His first reaction was a jolt of fear until he opened his eyes. He saw the blurry image of an older man’s face. It was a well chiseled, heavily bearded and balding visage that he recognized. It was Simir, the Thrall-father. Though shackled and suffering the stings of the gnoll’s lash, Simir hoisted Sawain like a broken animal in his arms. Sawain was so grateful that the pain had stopped. He would have thanked Simir for his act of selfless compassion, but the line keeping him in the waking realm had been severed and he drifted into dark unconsciousness.
    “Sawain, wake up, child.”
    Light flooded into Sawain’s vision as he obeyed the familiar voice of a woman. A blurry face hovered above him. As it came into focus, it was the face of a beautiful elf with braided blonde hair. Her emerald eyes sparkled and her slim face radiated kindness. She smiled as he looked onto her.
    “M-mother?”
    Sawain felt her warm hand brush his face as her image began to fade.
    “It’s time to wake up, child. There is much to do still.”
    His mother’s face faded away like it was made of smoke. The light grew brighter as the world flooded his bleary vision. He was laid upon his back. He could smell the smoke from camp fires. He took a deep breath. As his lungs filled with air, his entire body sent waves of pain to his brain, snapping him to complete consciousness. He grit his teeth and let out a weak groan as he tried to sit up. A big hand pushed him back down.
    “Stay still, child. You’re in bad shape.”
    The gruff baritone voice of Simir comforted Sawain slightly. He looked around him from where he lay. He was underneath a small lean-to and lying on a bundle of old blankets. A small turf fire burned behind the old man. Other thralls huddled around similar fires and lean-tos. The gnoll raiders sat in a ring around the slaves, watching them closely.
    He was bandaged and wrapped in linens. He could feel some sort of sticky salve against most of his skin. It was uncomfortable, yet he was uncomfortable no matter how he turned. He decided to turn his attention to Simir.
    “You saved me. Why?”
    Simir smiled and let out a half chuckle, “You were slowing us down.”
    Sawain smiled, “Well, thank you, Simir. I am in your debt again.”
    Simir rubbed his balding head. His eyes twinkled like gems set in his weather and labor-worn tan face.
    “There’s no need for that, Sawain. Your mother put you in my care when she died. I would have dishonored her memory by letting her son die. If you want to repay your debt, do so to another soul in need.”
    Sawain nodded weakly. Simir reached for a gourd at his side.
    “Here, take a drink of water, don’t need to dry out.”
    Sawain accepted the water gratefully and choked on it as he attempted to drink laying down. Once he drained the gourd, Simir took it back. The old man stroked his black and gray beard as he leaned back. His eyes settled on the darkening horizon.
    “Gonna be a long night. Best get some sleep. The