Can't Look Back (War for Dominance Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

turned, carefully avoiding the spear points, hoping the new voice represented an island of sanity in his ocean of woe. Once again, he was mistaken.
    The new voice belonged to the leader of the men, who lounged in the shade of a large tree while the troops guarded the road. Although the leader wore the same color scheme as the soldiers, he had a coat of mail that covered his upper half. As he approached, John could see that the leader didn’t have a spear like his troops; he had a sword that was long, sharp and very, very pointy. John had a good view of the sword’s point as the leader waved it in his face.
    “I haven’t done anything wrong,” pleaded John. “I came here to help solve a crime.”
    John couldn’t tell if they understood him, but his speech appeared to confirm something for the soldiers. They nodded their heads at each other, talking among themselves in their language. The ring of spear points drew closer to his waist.
    The leader said something to John in what sounded like the same language, ending with a “Tongart grestch!” When John didn’t move, other than to shrug his shoulders, the leader pointed to the ground at John’s feet and said again, “Tongart grestch!”
    Realizing that the leader wanted him to get on the ground, John started to kneel, but didn’t do it fast enough for the soldiers. One of the troops behind him planted the butt of his spear in John’s back and thrust forward, knocking John face-first to the ground. The soldier moved to stand next to him, the butt of the spear between John’s shoulder blades, pinning him to the ground like an insect on a mounting board.
    “Hey,” John said in protest, spitting out a mouthful of dust. He noticed that several of his front teeth were loose now, too.
    If the soldiers heard him, they gave no notice as they tied his hands behind his back with the professionalism born of many years of practice. John couldn’t move his hands. Trying to do so only caused the rope to chafe his wrists. His shoulders felt like they were on fire and would both pop out of their joints at any moment.
    The leader gave a command, and two sets of strong hands grabbed him and stood him upright. The tears of pain running from John’s eyes made muddy tracks down his face. With another command, the soldiers pushed him forward. When he didn’t keep walking, one of them shoved him with the butt of his spear, causing him to stumble forward. All of the soldiers laughed.
    This is so unfair, thought John. All I wanted to do was help.
     
     

Chapter 8
     
     
    The soldiers marched John down the road and into the small town, going most of the way through it. His arms and hands went numb after a couple of minutes although John couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or bad. While they no longer hurt as much, he figured the blood loss to his hands and arms was probably doing irreparable damage to them.
    Hot, tired, hungry and near exhaustion, he didn’t remember much of the walk. Most of the inhabitants seemed to be human in appearance, although some may have been too tall or short, or maybe even the wrong color. John couldn’t tell; it was all a haze. It seemed like those that had small children tried to keep them from seeing him.
    Eventually, the soldiers marched him into a building. It might have been 15 minutes later; it seemed like forever. The room they walked into had a desk and a table, with a number of doors ringing three of its walls. A tall man dressed in the same color scheme as the soldiers opened a thick wooden door on one of the walls. John was unceremoniously pushed into a small room on the other side of the door.
    He stumbled, but before he could fall, strong hands grabbed him. The soldiers cut loose his hands and then shoved him forward again. His vision went red in agony as blood returned to his damaged arms and hands. He didn’t see the low pallet in front of him which caught him in the shins. His arms were numb and useless, unable to break his