Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) by Brent Lee Markee

Author:Brent Lee Markee [Markee, Brent Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Coming of Age, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Epic, Teen & Young Adult
Amazon: B010CCNJH6
Published: 2015-06-23T04:00:00+00:00

Mine

They had gone down into the mines to work twice since his fight with the Orc. His last two periods of sleep had been restless. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel Warak’s cold gaze on his back. His two Goblin friends had apologized several times for drawing the Orc’s attention to the boy, and though he was mad about the fight he couldn’t hold it against his fellow slaves. He had asked them what it was that they had been saying to the other Goblins, and they had replied with half answers that he didn’t really believe.

It didn’t really matter what they had said to the other Goblins. He knew that they must all think him an oddity. A child working the mines alongside them. Their speculation on what was wrong with him or who he had angered reached his ears in the small hours of the night, as they had with the previous group of slaves who had died in the cave-in.

There were only two people in the cell who didn’t look at him like he had some sort of sickness. One was Warak’s Orc companion Grelesh, who since the fight had looked upon the boy as if he were clay in need of molding. The other was the strange, squat Goblin that sat away from the others. His light blue eyes held a gleam of intelligence that the boy had only seen reflected in the eyes of the Blood Mage that had helped deliver the new batch of slaves. Those eyes tickled a memory in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite catch hold of it.

Where have I seen that color before?

They had just begun mining when the boy realized that he wasn’t at the end of the line of miners. He had been the last one out of the cell for so long that he hadn’t realized the squat Goblin had waited for him to get into line before him. The realization interrupted his rhythm long enough for one of the guards to yell at him to get back to work. Several dozen swings later he looked over to see the squat Goblin eyeing him as the man’s powerful body swung relentlessly at the rock in a powerful staccato.

“What?” The boy whispered in goblin.

“Who, and what are you?” The Goblin replied in a language that the boy knew he had only heard before in his dreams. Draconic.

“I don’t know, and what are you?” The boy replied in the low hisses of the dragon tongue.

A small smile crept onto the face of the squat man. “I am Pershanti. My people are called the Grenaldins in the old parlance.”

“Well, pleasure to meet you Pershanti, I’m called Tunnel Rat, boy, or freak, take your pick.”

“Tunnel Rat might be who you are now, but it is not who you were, nor is it who you will become,” Pershanti said, his rhythm uninterrupted by the conversation he was holding in whispers with the boy.

“What will I become, then?” the boy asked, his swings making a counterpoint between his neighbors every other swing.

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