Read The Wasteland Soldier, Book 3, Drums Of War (TWS) for Free Online Page A

children burst into view, clutching sacks, some of them bulky. Yelling, they scattered toward the trees. The Churchmen unleashed a barrage of arrows and three bodies went down. The remaining two looters swerved and looped over the grassland, not looking back. Duggan barked orders at his men and a group of soldiers gave chase into the trees.
    Quinn was about to rush over and help but the commotion had stirred Daniel.
    “Liss? Liss? Lissa? Is that you, Lissa? Lissa? Lissa? Where are you, Lissa? Liss? Lissa?”
    His voice began to crack into ragged splutters and coughs. As she reached the cottage door she heard choked sobs.
    She closed her eyes, clenched and unclenched her fists.
    “I’m coming, Daniel.”
     
     
     
    The Churchmen yanked a scrawny boy to his feet. Two of his fellow looters lay unmoving in the grass, peppered with arrows.
    “Little bastard’s still alive, Captain.”
    He wriggled and spat and cursed but they pinned his arms. Duggan ignored him for the moment and crouched beside the bodies.
    “Collect up everything they stole,” he said, lifting the head of the first looter, revealing the pale face of a boy, possibly ten or eleven years old, eyes wide open and staring. He let the head drop. “Make sure it’s returned before the congregation have finished.”
    The second looter had stringy black hair. He snatched a handful, tugged the head back and saw it was a girl, only seven or eight years old. Face down, it had been impossible to discern any difference. One of his daughters was the same age. He placed a gloved hand beneath her chin and carefully lowered her lifeless head into the wet grass.
    Grim-faced, rain drilling against his helmet, he turned to the prisoner. An arrow was lodged deep in his thigh. Blood trickled along the shaft and down his leg. His blotchy skin was filmed with perspiration and he was panting heavily.
    “Didn’t you fancy attending Holy House this morning, Billy?”
    “You killed Daisy and Roger,” spat Billy. “You’re dead, knee bender.”
    His lips were drawn back across an uneven row of yellowed teeth. His gnarled eyes brimmed with hate.
    “Where are you camped?”
    “Fuck off,” he shouted, beads of sweat dribbling over his nose. “I’m not telling you a thing, knee bender.”
    Duggan slapped him hard across the face, shocking the insolence from the stupid boy. His men were in the woodland, hunting down the remaining two thieves. Sal and the rest of the gang wouldn’t be too far away. He hoped they would return soon. It had already taken too long.
    “Tell me, boy.”
    “Get fucked, knee bender.”
    “Where’s your Dad? Where’s Sal?”
    “You killed my brother and sister. Bastard knee bender.”
    Duggan could still hear the singing from the Holy House. The congregation were blissfully unaware of what was happening. It was better that way. He did not want the pressure of a baying mob.
    “If we don’t treat that wound you’ll lose your leg, Billy. Tell me where the camp is and we’ll help you.”
    “I’m telling you nothing.” Billy was gasping for air. “We’re gonna get you, knee bender. You and … you and your fat bitch whore wife. We’re gonna …”
    Duggan yanked at the arrow in the boy’s leg. Billy screamed. Tears poured from his eyes.
    “Do you want to be a cripple? A cripple who pisses himself? Do you know what happens to a thief who cannot run, Billy?”
    “Leave me alone.”
    Duggan glanced at the bodies in the grass. He lunged at Billy and twisted the arrow a second time.
    “Tell me.”

 
     
     
     
    FOUR
     
     
    “Clarissa?”
    “She’s dead, Daniel.”
    He was a bag of rippled skin pegged to weakening bones and stuffed into a rocking chair beneath layers of blankets. He was in the corner, in the shadows, curled beside the window, the wooden shutter closed and latched. Quinn stepped toward him. She could feel the heat of the open fire. His head was lowered. Spittle dribbled over his lips, tears wept from his right eye. The