Blood Prophecy by Stefan Petrucha

Author:Stefan Petrucha [PETRUCHA, STEFAN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC000000
ISBN: 9780446584449
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2010-11-01T00:00:00+00:00

14

The jagged line of the hole above him reminded Jeremiah Fall of the edge of a broken bowl he’d once seen on the floor of Mary Vincent’s humble kitchen. She’d been ladling soup into some earthenware the Algonquin had given grandfather when a scalding drop hit her hand. She was forced to drop the bowl, but the half sphere didn’t shatter; it split down the middle. And there it was, right above him, all these years later, the same shape, only instead of orange bits of carrot floating in broth, white clouds rolled in a blue sky.

Can I not remake you like the bowl? the Lord said to the prophet.

“Haven’t you done that already?” Jeremiah asked.

The thrown canvas wasn’t far. Unable to stand, he pressed his heels into the earth and flexed his ankles to pull himself nearer. Once close, he edged the cloth between his feet and maneuvered it along his body until he could grab it with his hands and cover himself.

He strained to hear, hoping to tell how far off Skog and his men were, but couldn’t. Whatever it was that allowed him to detect them at a distance had left with the stone. Perhaps Bandias himself, fed up with Jeremiah, had switched allegiances to the Abenaki.

He could wait for night, but that would give them hours of travel time. Skog seemed masterful in many ways. Even if Jeremiah got out, it was possible he wouldn’t be able to see their trail. If he were going to follow, he had to do it soon.

He looked up and around, and saw the boulder that graced the pit’s edge. They must have left in a hurry. Hylic’s thick rope remained tied around the rock, its unseen length somewhere on the ground above.

Maybe there was another way out.

He whistled for Al-Hawa. He doubted that, after seeing how she followed Jeremiah’s commands, Skog would take her with them. Had Skog killed her? He feared for the horse, but then her smell came to his nostrils. The black equine head poked over the edge of the pit and looked down obediently.

“Push the rope down here,” he said, expecting her to comply.

The horse gazed at him with uncomprehending eyes.

She understood when called, could rear and run and do whatever else was in her nature, but whatever bond linked them did not provide a dictionary. Much as Puritan angels and demons lay at the base of Jeremiah’s understanding, Al-Hawa still thought like a horse.

Unwilling to surrender, he tore a long strip from the canvas. Sorting through the rocks fallen near him, he found the one that most resembled the boulder above. He twisted the canvas strip, to make it look more like a rope, and then tied it around his rock.

“Al-Hawa,” he said, making certain he had her attention. Pointing to the stone and canvas string, he used his fingers to mimic a horse’s four legs and head. He trotted his hand up to the strip, then used his middle finger to push the “rope” away from the stone.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.