CHAPTER THIRTY
Thor lay deep in the blackness of the pit, the smell of earth in his nose, his entire body aching. Somewhere up above he heard the muffled shouts of soldiers. He managed to open his one good eye, the other swollen shut, as he strayed in and out of consciousness. It was dark and cold down here, at least a dozen feet below ground, and the light that filtered down, although not bright, made him squint. He tried to move, but every part of his body felt too bruised and broken. He had never known what aching was until this moment. He felt as if he had battled a million men.
He tried to move his wrists but felt them still shackled by the Akdon cuffs; all the strength he’d once had sapped from his body. He could feel all of his energy leaving him, right at the spot where the shack
