(eng) Mackenzie Morris by Angel of Darkness 6-10

Author:Angel of Darkness 6-10 [6-10, Angel of Darkness]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Chained and tethered in the stable like an animal, Xair stayed there on his side on the dusty straw, unable to sleep. After the day of being exposed to the heat and the sun without food, water, or clothing, he was beyond exhausted. But the second forced cleaning after the brutal whipping every hour had weakened his body. The slavers had applied generous amounts of soothing salve to the welts and cuts that crossed his back, buttocks, and thighs, but the raw skin still bled. The aching from being tied to the whipping post on his knees for an entire day kept him awake in groaning misery. He stared up at the starry sky through the gaps between the slats of the shoddily-constructed building. The night was quiet, the only sound the chirping of crickets in the nearby desert. The children and babies in other stalls in the stable had silenced hours before. That in itself made Xair sick to think of what it meant. What could those slavers have done to make the infants stay that quiet for so long? On second thought, he truly didn't want to know.

A middle-aged slaver with smooth features and short shaved brown hair entered the stable and made his way straight towards the back stall where Xair was recovering. He slid a small pack off of his shoulder then knelt down in the blood-streaked straw. He watched Xair carefully as he unlocked the chains and removed them. With delicate hands, he reached into his pack and retrieved a leather water-bag then held it above Xair's mouth. "Drink."

Xair groaned in pain as he pushed himself up on his elbows. His raw back stung and burned, but he desperately needed to cure his severe dehydration. He sighed as the cool water trickled onto his parched lips and he drank greedily, not caring if the slaver would try to stop him. Once the bag was completely empty, Xair moved to his knees in front of the slaver. The last thing he wanted was to still be seen as being challenging or uncooperative. At that point, he would have done anything to not be tied to whipping post again.

The slaver stood up then moved around behind Xair where he gently traced the raised welts and cuts that were oily with salve and caked with dried blood. "What is your name?"

His voice was parched and raspy as he managed to speak. "Xair. Xair Korvin."

"How do you feel, Xair Korvin?"

Xair stared down at the dusty floor where ants crawled around the corners and pieces of straw scattered in the breeze from the open doors. "Weak, sir."

"Tapper and the others did quite a job on you. I've brought you some clothes."

Xair glanced over to see the garments laid out on the straw. Knee-length baggy brown pants with laces up the sides, a sleeveless white tunic that kept the shoulders and chest exposed, and a pair of leather sandals with straps that wound up the leg to the knee.

"Go ahead and dress yourself.

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