Master of Chains - Jess Lebow [35]
Ryder looked down at the whip. There was no way he could escape, no way he could fight back, shackled to the other thirty-five men in the chain gang.
This was going to hurt.
Cobblepot brought the whip over his shoulder and snapped it once against the ground, sending dirt and dust into Ryder's eyes. Sitting on the ground, helpless, Ryder was reminded of the beatings his father used to give him as a child. The man used to take his belt off in preparation for delivering his punishment. Then he would slap the hardened leather against the sturdy oak table a handful of times. Ryder wondered what it was about the torturer that made him revel in the torment, why the first few blows seemed intended not to inflict physical pain but to increase the mental torment. Ryder already knew what was going to happen to him. He didn't need reminding. This was just a way to extend the pain. Make it not only last longer but also seep in further, so that it hurt deep inside as well as against the skin.
Straightening his back, Ryder crossed his legs underneath him as he had seen Nazeem do. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He did not know if he could find solace the way the tattooed man seemed to, but he had no better option.
The whip cracked again, then the familiar sting of leather crossed his chest. Ryder hissed at the pain. The tip of the whip was much narrower than his father's belt had been. The blow was so sharp; it felt like a razor carving into his skin. He tightened all the muscles in his body, trying to steel himself against the sensation.
Again the whip cracked, slapping his shoulder. The pain was so poignant that even with his eyes closed he could sense the mark it left on him. It was as if the backs of his eyelids held a map of his body, and he watched as the taskmaster drew lines upon it. Ryder got lost in this image, escaping into himself, away from the beating. He would take the best the taskmaster had to offer, and he would be stronger for it.
The taskmaster continued his beating, the blows landing one after another in a regular rhythm. He was trying to beat the humanity out of Ryder, trying to turn him into a version of the taskmaster-an animal with no respect for human life or dignity.
Ryder fought against this transformation. But the whip burned him, and with each new attack, he lost more ground. Though he battled against the pain, his grip on his humanity was slipping. The whip's sting was all-consuming, and he lost track of all other sensation. He was adrift in a world of pain, and it was all he could do to hold on and not break down.
The whip struck the side of his face. Ryder breathed then braced himself for the next blow.
It never came.
"Bandits!"
Ryder opened his eyes.
The taskmaster was several paces away, looking out to the west. In front of him, a few of the guardsmen were scrambling to get to their horses. The rest however, were in a fight for their lives.
A band of mounted bandits had come out from behind the boulders and encircled the guards as they began preparing the camp for the night. They wore baggy pantaloons and loose-fitting tunics that fluttered behind them as they rode. Every one of them had wrapped their heads and faces with scarves, leaving only their eyes exposed. They carried a hodgepodge of mismatched weapons-the spoils of other raids-and they howled as they descended upon Lord Purdun's guardsmen.
Taskmaster Cobblepot was rushing now to the guardsmen's aid, swinging his whip over his head, Ryder and the other prisoners seemingly forgotten.
Ryder's body throbbed from the lashing he'd received, but somehow the pain felt diminished by the sight of the bandits. Under different circumstances, he might have been terrified. But right then, anyone who would fight Purdun's men was all right with him.
Nazeem leaned over. "Are you all right?"
Ryder shook his head. "I've been better."
This made Nazeem laugh. "I've never seen a man take such a beating without even making so much as a whimper. You are very brave."
A second wave of billowing riders rode out of the trees behind