Robinson Crusoe 2245: (Book 2) Read Online Free

could play would be fun to watch.”
    Friday gnashed her teeth. She had made a pact with herself when Arga’Zul took her captive the second time. She would care only for herself. There was survival and escape. Nothing more. And yet this child, with her auburn hair, fair skin, and empty eyes reminded Friday of someone, though she didn’t want to admit whom.
    For a full moon she had been aboard the ship, emptying water pans and serving food. In all that time, she had talked with no one.
    Nameless. That is what you are , thought Friday. May the Goddess bless you to stay that way.
    “Stubborn,” Arga’Zul said, pushing Friday away.
    He continued down the deck until he reached the forecastle. There, he leaned over the railing to stare out at the passing lands as a gaggle of geese flew south overhead.
    “It will be an early winter,” Arga’Zul muttered to himself.
    There is much to do.
     
    Deep in the bowels of the aft of the ship was a narrow recess where Friday slept.
    The remaining prisoners were kept in a cage not far from her, packed so tightly they could barely breathe. Most were taken captive as slaves or sold to breeders. They were fed little, rested less. More often than not, they died within a few weeks. The lucky ones dropped dead from exertion. The unlucky, to the barbarous whims of the evil men upstairs.
    In the five months since her recapture, Arga’Zul’s ship—which Friday had learned was named Spinecrusher —had docked at the Bone Flayer’s home village once. It was on the river far to the south and run by Arga’Zul’s brother, Baras’Oot, their king. It had once been an ancient city of note, but no one knew its name. It might have faded into memory were it not for a building in the shape of a pyramid.
    The land around it was flat and dull, but it contained the largest bazaar Friday had ever set eyes on. Trade partners came from all over the region to buy and sell slaves, livestock, and weapons. Often, those buying were the same ones who had been stolen from.
    Of all the terrible things Friday had witnessed, none could compare to the cruelty inflicted upon her own people. The Bone Flayers valued the Aserra above all other prizes. They paraded them through the streets like trophies. They were beaten, broken, and flayed. Many sat in cages at the corners of the bazaar, left to beg for food until they died, sometimes longer. When Friday was first marched through the city, she locked eyes with many of these poor souls. They always looked away in shame.
    Arga’Zul planned a similar fate for Friday, but he understood one of the cruelest gifts was patience. Friday would not die before he saw her broken.
    He was in for a very long wait.
     
    The nail groaned loudly as it struck metal. Friday paused, waiting to hear if anyone reacted to the sound.
    Her eyes had grown keen in the darkness. Even from here, she could make out the bodies of the slaves sleeping in the stockade. She was about to turn away when she saw a pair of eyes watching her from within the bars. It was the nameless girl. Friday saw no danger, so she put a finger to her lips and motioned for the girl to go back to sleep.
    For three months, Friday worked every night after the ship had gone silent, using the iron nail to chip at the wood around the mount of her shackles. The wood was old but hardened. It had only begun to loosen in the last few days.
    Once, at the beginning of summer, a young male slave was brought aboard whom Friday did not like. He had a habit, this slave, of turning up around her. When he made an overture of kinship that first week, she spurned him. The slave grew insistent, urging her to escape with him, but she denied him until, one day, he disappeared altogether. She heard he had been hanged from the mainsail, but she never saw his body.
    Friday knew she would only have one attempt at escape. After that, she would either be beaten or killed. Neither option truly scared her. The only option that did was the idea of being