Mage of Silence
Coming January 14th, 2012 from Silver Publishing
Castien, a mute elven mage, and a young half-elf thief, Theirn, join forces in an attempt to rid their land of an evil Lord. Their feelings deepen as they travel across the seas to spy on a mage/prince who enslaves his subjects.
Castien struggled to his feet for a moment, one hazel eye already swollen closed, his blond shoulder-length hair hanging in a tangled mass around his thin face and distinctively pointed elven ears. Then he collapsed once again to his knees. Rough hands grabbed his arms, pulled him up, held him erect.
"You will tell me!"
Castien summoned up a miniscule amount of moisture in a mouth dried from screaming, spat and watched it land on the toe of the Baron's boot. The Baron scowled then nodded to the man behind Castien and the lash bit into his already bloody, torn back. About to say more, the Baron turned instead when the door at the top of the curved stone stairs opened and a warder beckoned to him. He strode up to growl with anger at whatever he was being told and then pointed to Castien and ordered the guards to put him back in his chains. Castien bit back a cry of agony as they pushed him roughly against the jagged stone walls and affixed his wrists with irons to hang him so, being less than average height, his toes barely touched the flagstone floor.
The Baron came back to stand face to face with Castien. He twisted his hand in Castien's hair to force him to look at him as he snarled, "Think," while he pointed to the instruments of torture that filled the room. "Ponder your fate if you remain silent. You have one hour while I take care of pressing business then…" He smiled harshly before he turned away to beckon for the others to follow him.
As the door clanged shut behind them Castien groaned, the bite of stone on his flayed back taking him into blackness for a moment. He struggled to regain consciousness and through swollen eyes he searched the room. The only light came from the fire in a pit at the center of the chamber. Iron bars rested on one side of it and he knew that all too soon they would be heated and used on him in a futile attempt to make him talk.
Castien felt himself weaken as blood dripped slowly from his wounds. With luck, he thought, if one could call it that, I will be beyond torturing by the time he returns. His chin sank to his chest and darkness claimed him.