No Heart for a Thief (Malitu Book 1) by James Lloyd Dulin

Author:James Lloyd Dulin [Dulin, James Lloyd]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: G & D Publishing
Published: 2023-01-23T13:00:00+00:00

Wooden planks scraped my bare feet. An indistinguishable murmur filled the air. A small crowd milled about. Brown faces and long, gray braids. My people. Several clay brick and wood buildings formed the background. Nomar. The town square. The caller’s stage. My father’s workshop would have been around the corner.

I tried to move, but two pairs of rough hands stretched my arms to either side. Torrel grinned with all his teeth, digging his fingers into my left arm. His eyes were blank. No emotion. No recognition. I yanked against his grip, and he held me tighter.

“Don’t struggle, little brother. This is for your own good.” Jonac stood to my right with a wild smile and the same empty gaze. “I know your secret, little brother.”

“We all know,” Rena said from the front of a crowd full of dead eyes and manic grins.

My breath drowned out the noise. Pulses of air stuttered in and out of my nose.

“You know what they say, ‘No heart for a thief. No safe haven,’” Jonac whispered into my ear. “‘Only a grave will do.’”

The boards beneath me creaked, and every head turned towards the sound of the footsteps. The town priest walked towards me with his red robe billowing behind him, his face veiled to the world, and his damn gaudy medallion jangling around his neck. His pale hand emerged from his oversized sleeve, holding a clear crystal.

Fear and hatred churned the acid in my belly. My captors held me firmly, no matter how much I jerked. I listened for The Song, for an echo, but only the priest’s footsteps broke the silence. There was no one to help me.

The priest approached with the crystal, and it began to glow green. It felt as if my blood would leech out from every pore. I screamed. My skin stretched like a net trying to hold a thrashing salmon. My body threatened to fall apart into a mess of blood and bone.

Then all fell silent.

I collapsed like a cloth doll, held aloft between Jonac and Torrel’s grasp. The Seed swirled within its prison.

Jonac leaned towards me, his breath hot against my face. “Blessed Mother, it would be a shame to waste a good spirit.”

Rena presented a dagger to the priest. I hung loosely between the two nomads, too empty to resist. The priest drew back the blade and thrust it into my belly.

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