The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 28

Lillian looked like she was about to faint. Sam had only seen that expression on her face on a few scattered occasions. It was never good.

"And you're absolutely sure?" she asked the woman, her voice shaking.

The peasant's unpleasant face twisted into a scowl that made her countenance even less attractive. "Yeah, I am. It was all over town this mornin'. How come you lot didn't know?"

Lillian, pale as death, didn't get the chance to answer. Sam watched in awe as a deathly quiet stole over the crowd, broken by the faint sound of rain on the rooftops. The tension and anticipation were so thick in the air, you could've cut them with a knife. And then he heard it. The rattle of chains on cobblestones.

A strange sort of fear set the fast rhythm of Sam's heart and made it echo in his ears, the only sound in the square. It wasn't fear for himself, or any of the people around him. It was fear for his friend.

Frozen to the spot like he was, he didn't react fast enough to catch Lillian when she started pushing through the thick of the crowd. All he managed when his arm shot out for her wrist was to grip her sleeve before she slipped away, lost in the throng.

Blast it.

"Lillian!" he hissed, pushing past a frizzy-haired, dark-skinned elderly man on crutches and trying futilely to see over the endless heads. He had to stop her. She was going to get herself killed. In the state she was in, there was no telling what she'd do.

And he really, really didn't want to have to rescue two of his friends from the dungeons. Especially not with Crynia barely half sober, and Chad, who was tripping over his own feet half the time.

Sam caught a glimpse of Lillian's dark hair as he squeezed between two paunchy, mustached gentlemen in silk tailcoats who sent him condescendingly disapproving looks as he passed them. Lillian was only a few feet ahead. But so was the inner edge of the crowd.

The people had gathered around a five-foot-high wooden platform constructed in the middle of the square. A post stood in the middle, thick leather straps nailed to it.

Just before Lillian hit the edge, Sam caught her arm and yanked her back. Before she could hit him or pull away, he wrapped his fingers around her other arm and wrenched them behind her back as gently as he could.

"Let go of mffmm!" Her protests were muffled when he clapped a hand over her mouth, temporarily releasing his hold to spin her around and face him, ignoring the wary looks he was receiving.

"Listen to me, will you?" he hissed as she squirmed against his hold, green eyes wild and teary. Gods, he hated seeing her fall apart like this. "Do you think getting caught is going to help him? We can't rescue him right now, not here. It'll cost us all our heads."

A tear slipped down her cheek and landed on his knuckles, but she closed her eyes and nodded, and he let her go.

"You don't understand, Sam," she said desperately, voice thick, digging her nails into her scalp. "You didn't see him. A flogging would be difficult to recover from, even if he was in perfect health. But after how they beat him? Sam, he'll be killed."

Sam swallowed deeply. His throat felt thick at the thought of losing his friend. But before he could speak, a cheer went up from the crowd.

And with a sickening rattle of chains, Nyle was shoved up the stairs and onto the platform.

Sam was amazed that he was still standing, much less able to walk. His shirt was bloody and torn, his shaggy blond hair matted and filthy. His skin, previously a healthy tan, was covered in colorful bruises ranging from black to blue to sickly yellow. There was a particularly dark welt just below his eye, swelling it shut, and blood had dried below a cut on his lip.