Break his arm #79

So instead, you swing before the youth can react…and hit him in the stomach.
You knock the wind from his body, which is followed by extremely loud wheezing.
“Wow,” whispers Dorbane, “nice hit. I’m surprised he didn’t vomit.”
“I was trying to break his arm,” you whisper back.
“Oh.”
After several coughs, the boy looks up, his face red and stressed.
“Please,” he pleads, “don’t kill me. I’m just as much of a victim as those people.”
Valda spits on him, “Lair.”
You pull the Gypsy back. “What’s going on here? Why the hostages?”
The youth shakes his head, “I don’t know the plan. I was paid to wear this outfit, to keep people from asking questions. In return, I was supposed to get enough silver to help my mother and I survive this winter on the farm.”
It sounds plausible, but you don’t buy it.
“Why didn’t you run away?” you ask.
He smiles weakly, “I did. That’s why I was sitting here, by the fire. Gunther there caught me, brought me back…and his larger buddy, Keelan, said if I moved from this spot—he’d slit my throat himself.”

If you believe him, go to page #9
You want to believe him, but you have to make sure. Go to page #83