The Chestnut King by N. D. Wilson

Author:N. D. Wilson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Philosophy, Cousins, Fiction, rulers, Doors, Body, Kings and rulers, Families, Kansas, Fairies, Science Fiction, Royalty, Mind & Spirit, Magic, Family life - Kansas, Juvenile Fiction, Family life, Fantasy & Magic, United States, Space and time, People & Places, Magick Studies, queens, Action & Adventure, Family, General, etc, Kings, etc., Metaphysics
ISBN: 9780375838859
Publisher: Random House Digital, Inc.
Published: 2010-01-26T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Red-shirts marched the walkway. Cracking whips kept the slave heads down. The captain stood in front of Frank, with his hands behind his back.

“Stand up!” he demanded. “Now.”

Frank smiled. “Can’t. Tried. But can’t.”

The captain pulled keys from his belt and bent down to unlock Frank’s shackles. “What have you been doing, Francis? Trying to take your hands off?”

Frank’s arms fell loose, and he stood slowly, refusing to look at his wrists, though he heard Dots gasp behind him. He nudged Monmouth’s clothes with his toe. “He went out the hatch. The back door for the dead.”

“We are a great distance from land,” the captain said. “It is only a shadow on the horizon.”

“Must be a swimmer,” said Frank. “Why else would he leave his clothes?”

The captain looked around inside of Frank’s eyes and then scanned the hold. “Why would he leave you?” he asked. “Did he learn the lesson I did so many years ago? Was it time to shake off the horrible taint of your family? Only fools stand with you.”

“Maybe,” said Frank. “But here you are, right beside me, little Roderick from Hylfing. How close do you have to get before you’re tainted?”

The shorter man turned and stood chest to chest with Frank, flaring wool-filled nostrils. “Your family is done. Hylfing will be just another northern port, smelling of fish and poverty. You will not survive the anger of the emperor.”

“We’ve survived worse, but then you know that already.” Frank patted the captain on the cheek. His wrist was banded with blackened blood.

Roderick knocked Frank’s hand away and drew a knife from his belt. Behind him, the sound of a long chain snaking through a hook and collapsing to the deck echoed in the beams. And then another. And another. Three at once. Chains were dropping on both sides of the walkway.

Green leaves sprouted from the beams of the ceiling. Silver bark began to wrap them. The soldiers on the walkway stepped back, ducking, pushing to get out from underneath the creaking growth.

An oar slid in from its oarlock and cracked a soldier in the temple. And then, from both sides, slaves leapt from their seats, yelling, brandishing chains.

The soldiers fired crossbows into the swarm, but the bodies tumbled on. A big man, with dark skin and a bald head above his full beard, cracked bones with his blows. The soldiers were trampled like grapes, whipped with chains, and crushed with knees and feet. James stepped through the mob of skin and anger and grabbed the captain’s wrists. He dropped his knife and tried to twist away. James cracked him head to head, and the big man stepped from behind James and looped a chain around the captain’s neck.

“No!” Frank yelled. “No! Deal with him later.”

A space cleared around the ladders. Crossbow bolts were pouring down into the hold. The slaves, still yelling, sending taunts up through the decks, stripped weapons off the killed soldiers. There was no fear. These men had forgotten to care for their lives long ago.

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