Hammerhold Tales: Thrallborn Read Online Free Page A

herb salve I used on you has some magical properties. It’s not much, but it’ll lessen your pain.”
    Sawain raised an eyebrow, “Where did you find that?”
    Simir smiled, “Old Southern Fells concoction made of a pair of herbs native to these parts. I had to do a lot of convincing the gnolls that you weren't any good to them dead. Had to take a guard patrol with me, but it was worth it to keep my oath to your mother. Now, enough talk, you still need to let the salve do its work.”
    Sawain nodded again and closed his eyes to await sleep. Simir’s voice filled his ears as he struck up an old song he had heard many a night throughout his life. As Simir sang, one by one, the other thralls joined in.
    We slave, we toil for the setting sun
    Through sweat and blood and pain
    Rest now, my child, your work is done
    Until the sun rise again.
     
    Sleep now and remember the hero foretold
    The freer of thralls and imprisoned!
    The defender of justice from faraway hold
    His someday appearance envisioned!
     
    The Hero who wields the keening blade
    Slayer of the tyrant king,
    Riding forth from forlorn glade
    For his rising do we sing.
     
    For freedom does this hero-lord fight
    Against tyrants and slavers and greed
    With sword and spear, he brings forth light
    Before him, night’s shadow recede.
     
    Sawain scowled at the song as he drifted into a troubled sleep. What good would a hero king do for us now? The only ‘hero’ I’ve ever seen in my life was my slave-holding father. If that’s what a real hero is like, I hope I never meet another hero again. Some birthday this turned out to be.
    Sawain stood on a moonlit hill overlooking a forest glade that glistened with snow. He could hear the crackling of fire, but it was soon replaced by the thundering of hooves. An armored figure bathed in light riding a gleaming horse emerged from the dark glade. Sawain had to cover his face to keep from being blinded. When he dropped his arm, he stood before a king in his great hall. The king’s face was bathed in light.
    The king called out a strange name.
    “Here I am,” Sawain was surprised that these words came from his mouth.
    The king spoke again, but the words were unfamiliar. He spoke in a tongue that was old. Perhaps it was as old as the world itself. Sawain spoke, but the words did not come. The king placed his hands on Sawain’s shoulders and shook him violently. Sawain snapped awake. Simir’s face came into focus.
    “Time to rise, child.”
    The gnolls were prodding the thralls to their feet, barking commands and yanking them along. Simir helped Sawain to his feet. It was a painful process. The salve deadened some of the pain, but it was still a miserable experience. The Alpha gnoll appeared beside the two thralls. He shoved Simir to the side as he stared Sawain down. The monster’s smug grin stirred a fire within Sawain’s chest.
    “Well, well, the dumb child can still walk. Good. Get in line, child. Show me you can obey my words, unless you don’t feel like walking today. That can be arranged.”
    Sawain grit his teeth hard to keep from lashing out and forfeiting his life to the gnoll. He hesitantly walked over to the other thralls, glaring hatefully at the alpha the whole way. The alpha grinned and shackled Sawain to the others. Simir fell in beside him and was bound. He did not show any emotion as the gnoll snarled at him. Once the bully gave up trying to get a reaction, camp was quickly broken and the caravan was on the move again.
    Sawain’s body ached, especially where the shackles rubbed against his raw skin. The salve did little to stop the pain. He could not imagine how bad it would hurt without it. Despite his battered body, the soles of his feet were in good shape still. He took solace in the fact that he could at least not complain of sore feet.
    An hour into the march, Simir muttered to Sawain, “You were wise to do as Hilmr told you. He may be a gnoll, but he is still your new master.”
    Sawain