David Gemmell - Shannow 02 by Ghost King

Author:Ghost King [King, Ghost]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The beast which had been Pallin moved at ferocious speed, hammering into the group before they could run. Rhiall, the slowest to move, was hurled ten feet in the air to land unconscious by a tall rock. The others were thrown to the ground, where they scrambled to their feet to sprint for the relative safety of the trees. Thuro dived to his left, rolling on his shoulder and rising as the beast reared up on its hind legs, its great talons raking the air. The prince drew his gladius and backed away. The bear advanced, dropped to all fours and charged again. This time Thuro leapt high, coming down on the beast’s back with sword raised; but he could not plunge it into the creature’s neck, knowing what it once had been.

The bear began to thrash around, seeking to dislodge the young warrior. In his efforts to hold on Thuro dropped his sword; it fell to the beast’s back and a blinding white light blazed from the blade. The bear dropped without a sound and Thuro jumped clear of the falling body. The bestial features softened and the young Briton watched as the fur shrank back to reveal the half-human face he recalled from the first meeting deep in the caves. He retrieved his sword, noting the heat emanating from the blade—and the answer came to him.

“Laitha!” he shouted. “Come quickly!” She ran to him and gazed in horror at Pallin’s deformed features.

“Kill it quickly before it recovers.”

“Give me your bracelet. Now!” Swiftly she pulled the copper band clear and Thuro took it and held it to the twisted face. Once more light blazed and Pallin’s features softened still further.

“What about the arrows?” whispered Laitha. “Culain touched those also.”

Thuro nodded and she raced across the clearing to fetch her quiver. One by one Thuro touched the arrow-heads to the stricken half-beast—and each time more of the man emerged. At last the magic was exhausted and Pallin’s face was clearly more human than before, but the taloned paws remained and the huge sloping, fur-covered shoulders. His eyes opened.

“Why am I not dead?” he asked, his anguish terrible to hear.

The guards ran forward and knelt before him.

“This young man restored you, Lord,” said Baldric. “He touched you with his magic sword. Your face . .

.” Baldric swept off his brass helm and held it before Pallin’s eyes. The man-monster gazed at his distorted reflection, then turned his sad blue eyes on Thuro.

“You have only delayed the inevitable, but I thank you.”

“My friend Prasamaccus has another twenty arrows that were touched by magic. When he returns I will bring them to you.”

“No! Against Astarte we have no magic. Keep them safe. I am doomed, though your aid should grant me another month of life as a man.” He looked down at his terrible hands. “As a man? Sweet gods of earth and water! What kind of man am I?”

“A good man, I think,” said Thuro. “Have faith. What magic can do, magic can undo.

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