《The Ship That Went to Sea》Chapter 1.1

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He seethed and clenched every muscle in his body to keep still and not writhe with the pain. He knew by now that moving made it worse. He drew in another breath through his nose and blew out shakily through clenched teeth. He could have drawn on paper every stroke of the lash. The ointment, meant to heal, also stung in each cut turning his back into a dazzling white network of pain. Today had been bad.

He focused on the sensation of his breath blowing past his teeth. He closed his eyes and tried to search for a memory or even a fantasy to take him away but could find nothing. No other thought could get through the walls of rules and pain in his mind. All he could do was feel his pain and keep breathing.

The door of his small cell opened and the abbot walked in. He was a tall man, thin but broad shouldered. His hands were long, reaching, and precise. He wore the same robes as all the other monks but none could doubt on seeing him, this man held all the others in his power.

"Brother Tornas, you have made a worthy sacrifice today. Our goddess will be most pleased." He crept across the room with silent long legged grace. The Abbot stood over him and stooped down. A long hand reached out to the thin blanket. "Now let's just see to your wounds." The pain exploded in his back and it felt like his skin was on fire as the blanket was torn away. There could be no greater pain, until the abbot reached his hands and touched his back.

Tornas woke screaming in a long boat of the Bonnie Bounty. He panted greedy breaths as he looked around and realized where he was.

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"You really need to stop doing this" a gruff voice came from above. Tornas looked to see the dragon born first mate Sezjeck staring down at him. Tornas could not stutter out a response before he spoke again "come on then, Captain Esmerelda says to make ready the ship for port" Tor climbed out of the longboat and back onto the deck. He stuck his hand in his pocket to make sure it was still there, a matter of impulsive habit by now. He hated the dreams. But maybe with the stone he could destroy them. Of course that would mean he would have to stop running away and go back to face the monster who had raised him.

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