A Dream of Mortals by Morgan Rice

Author:Morgan Rice [Rice, Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Amazon: B00MBW0RSK
Publisher: Morgan Rice
Published: 2014-07-30T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Godfrey, awake, bleary-eyed, up all night long, slowly removed the red sash, holding his breath so as not to get infected by plague, lifting it over his head as he took in his surroundings in the dim pre-dawn light. All was finally quiet and still in the prison cell, the only sound that could be heard the breathing of the guard, steady and regular, and the gentle snoring of the prisoners. The time had come.

It had been one of the most harrowing nights of his life, reclining in a plague-infected pit, breathing into the red sash and trying his best to avert his mouth so as not to catch it. Godfrey sat up slowly, his muscles stiff, eagerly awaiting this moment all night. It had been a torturous night, one of the prisoners he’d been lying beside dying sometime during the night. Godfrey remembered the exact moment he had died, his face up against his, letting out one final gasp, his body quivering, then becoming stiff as a board. Godfrey had barely stopped himself from vomiting.

Godfrey had done his best to breathe in the opposite direction, and prayed to God with all his might that he didn’t catch whatever plague this fellow had. Godfrey figured there wasn’t much to lose: if he didn’t manage to escape, he’d be executed within hours anyway.

Godfrey, thanks to his overbearing King father, had been thrown into dungeon cells one too many times, even if only for a few days, his father always trying to impart to him a lesson he could never quite learn. Alert to the rhythms inside a prison cell, Godfrey took in all the sounds and senses of the prison environment, making sure all was ready before he pounced. A prison, Godfrey knew, had its own unique sounds and rhythms: he knew the sound a prison made right before prisoners were about to riot; he knew the sounds that preceded a guard beating someone down; he knew the sound of a new prisoner entering a block, and he knew the sound of someone about to be dragged away.

And most importantly, he knew the sound of a guard falling asleep.

Godfrey turned and trained his eyes on the Empire guard, standing beside the prison cell, his head drooping down, chin meeting his chest, shoulders slumped and relaxed. Just the way Godfrey wanted them. His eyes focused on the keys, a small set of silver keys on the guard’s waistband, and he knew the time was now.

Godfrey sat up stealthily, his body too heavy, wishing he’d lost fifty pounds. One of these days he’d quit drinking—but definitely not today. Godfrey slowly lowered the red sash and wrapped it instead around his waist; he knew it would come in handy later.

Godfrey slowly pushed himself up off the dead body, pushing off the plague-infested prisoner as he had been dying to do all night, elated to finally have his weight off of him, and then he slowly made his way to his knees. From there, he got to his feet, crouching.

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