Knightfall~the Infinite Deep by David B. Coe

Author:David B. Coe [Coe, David B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07BPPDC5J
Publisher: Titan Books
Published: 2019-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The cage was what it sounded like: an iron prison set in the recesses of the Gold Prince’s small hold. Each of the Templars was led by two pirates into the pen. When all were inside, another of Gaspar’s men secured the cage door with a lock, also made of iron, that was the size of Tancrede’s fist.

The hold itself was set near the stern of the ship, and separated by a wall from another forward hold. Tancrede assumed that the galley’s crew slept and ate in that other area. It had to be larger than this one. The air in their cramped hold was still and hot, and it stank of sweat and piss, rot and vomit. Tancrede breathed through his mouth until he started to grow accustomed to the stench. Aside from a few small slits in the wood, which allowed in a bit of light and too little fresh air, the hold had no openings save the hatch. Rat droppings dotted the uneven floor. A half-decayed rat carcass lay near the back corner of the cage.

Gawain toed the carcass, clearly disgusted. “It seems we have pets.” He kicked the carcass out of the cage.

Tancrede still bled from wounds on his head, neck, and arms. But several of his fellow Templars were worse off than he. Thomas had suffered the most grievous injury, a blow to his leg deep enough that Tancrede could see bone. It bled profusely. Sweat shone on Thomas’s long face. Dark, damp hair clung to his brow, and his breaths came shallow and quick.

“I could help him if they would let me,” Draper said, frustration tightening his voice. “We need to stop the bleeding, and he requires a poultice to prevent infection. Otherwise he could lose the leg.”

The wound on Gawain’s face needed attention as well. Tancrede had little confidence that these pirates would allow them any treatment at all. He rarely had cause to question Godfrey’s leadership, but in this case the commander had chosen poorly. Gawain had spoken true: a fight to the death would have been preferable to this.

He didn’t say as much, of course. He didn’t have to. Godfrey’s guilt weighed on him, curving his shoulders, haunting his pale eyes. The commander spoke not a word. He stood near the door to the cage and stared out toward the hatch, as if he might will Gaspar to come to them.

Landry, on the other hand, stalked the perimeter of their prison, scrutinizing every joint in its construction, and every plank of wood beneath their feet. As he completed a circuit around the space, Tancrede joined him.

“What do you see?”

The young knight shook his head. “Very little,” he said. “No weak points in the bars. No rotted planks.” A bitter smile flitted across his lips. “And even if there were, with our arms bound like this there isn’t much we could do.”

“They’ll have to untie us eventually,” Tancrede said. “Unless they intend to feed us themselves.”

“What if they don’t plan to give us any food at all?”

“Gaspar said—”

“Gaspar is a liar.

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