CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was the noise. Hundreds of people, most of them wearing the robes of Mordum’s priests, were gathered around a large pit that had been dug. Aramis guessed it must have been created recently, as the dirt was dark and fresh.
The crowd was chanting, but he couldn’t make out the words. The ringing in his ears was hindering him from making out their words. He also had a pounding headache. He was standing upright, bound by thick ropes across his legs and chest. Aramis tested their strength. They didn’t budge. He tried to summon his blade, but nothing happened. The connection he felt to the Mark was nonexistent. Glancing down, he saw why.
His tattoo had been cut and the skin was pinned back, keeping the two pieces from touching. Disgust
