Medalon by Jennifer Fallon

Author:Jennifer Fallon [Fallon, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Women Warriors, Mothers and Daughters, Fantasy Fiction, Fiction, Fantasy, General, Gods, Women Soldiers, Epic
ISBN: 9780765309860
Google: u5dzIR9VgwAC
Amazon: 0765348667
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2000-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

R’shiel was marched, none too gently, through the corridors of the Administration Building. The walls were brightening rapidly and people stared as she was marched out into the streets toward the Defenders’ Headquarters. Eventually they reached the narrow hall that led into the cells where only last night, she had come to rescue Tarja. The corridor was lit with smoky torches. The Citadel had been built by the Harshini, and they had no need for prisons. The cell block was an addition erected later by the Sisterhood. R’shiel tripped on uneven flagstones in the seemingly endless corridor, until finally, in a spill of yellow lamplight, she found herself in a large open area filled with scattered tables and shadows.

“What’s this?”

“This is the Probate who helped them last night,” one of her escort explained. “The First Sister wants her locked up.”

“Bring her here,” the Defender said. R’shiel could detect the sneer in the man’s voice. She looked up, focusing her eyes on the captain and was rewarded with a startled laugh. “Well, well, well! If it isn’t Lady High ’n’ Mighty herself!”

The sergeant who held her frowned as he looked at the young captain. “Don’t get too excited, Loclon. She’s still a Probate.”

“Go to hell, Oron,” Loclon snapped.

“Not at your invitation, thanks,” he retorted. The sergeant thrust R’shiel at Loclon and marched off.

Loclon stood back and let her fall. “Get up,” he ordered.

R’shiel stood slowly, aware that she was in some kind of danger. She grimaced at the ugly scar marring his once-handsome face. Loclon took exception to her gaze. He backhanded her soundly across the face. Without thinking, she lashed out with her foot in retaliation. Loclon dropped like a sack of wheat, screaming in pain, clutching his groin with both hands.

“You bitch!”

“What’s the matter?” R’shiel shot back. “Haven’t felt the touch of a woman there for a while?”

She regretted it almost as soon as she said it. Loclon was livid, and she had little chance to enjoy her victory. She was overwhelmed by the other guards who held her tightly as Loclon pulled himself up, using the corner of the table for support. This time he punched her solidly in the abdomen, making her retch as she doubled over in agony. He drew back his fist for another blow but was stopped by his corporal.

“Don’t be a fool, sir,” he urged. “She’s a Probate.”

Loclon heeded the man’s advice reluctantly. “Get her out of my sight.”

R’shiel was dragged across the hall into a waiting cell. The door clanged shut with a depressing thud. Holding her bruised abdomen, she felt her way along the wall, using it for support. Barking her shin on the uneven wood of the pallet, she collapsed onto it. Shaking with pain, R’shiel curled into a tight ball on the narrow pallet and wondered what they had done with Tarja.

Time lost all meaning for R’shiel in the days that followed her arrest. Only sparse daylight found its way into the cells. Only the begrudging delivery of meals and the changing of the guard regulated her days.

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