Hunt for Valamon by Mok DK

Author:Mok, DK [Mok, DK]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spencer Hill Press
Published: 2015-04-06T23:00:00+00:00

TEN

He’d cried for her to stop as shadows spattered into blood. The dead weight of Garlet’s body had fallen from his shoulders as hands clawed at him, the hiss of steel slashing through the air. Finally, Seris had run, the brigands’ screams chasing him like winged creatures through the disfigured trees. He’d run until the noises must have faded behind him, but still they echoed in his ears.

He ran until he staggered, then staggered until he crawled, the land gradually firming beneath him. Finally, he lay exhausted on sprays of fine grass, beneath a half-bare canopy of leaves. His mind was still a mess of blood and death and hanging bodies, of curses and trades and things that slithered in the darkness, behind a face that wasn’t really there.

He felt like he was burning up with a strange fever. He seemed to drift between wakefulness and delirium, memories or premonitions of war bleeding through his mind. Death and destruction, wherever she went. A curse that couldn’t be controlled, couldn’t be stopped, only broken. A power that consumed everything around it, including Elhan…

Seris heard footsteps approaching, cutting through his groggy thoughts. Curled in the roots of a tree, he peered up to see a pale figure stepping into the moonlight, her skin spattered with crimson. The long dagger in her hand still dripped with fresh blood.

“Boy, that was a sticky one,” said Elhan. “I’m just going to lie down a minute.”

Like a collapsing titan, she keeled over slowly, falling forward onto the soft grass. Seris stared at the dagger in Elhan’s loose fist, his thoughts seething like a ball of frenzied eels. Quietly, he crept to her side, pulling the dagger from her limp hand. He took a shaking breath, his fingers pulling the bloodied fabric gently from the wound on her back. The deep slit was still pulsing weakly.

Seris carefully slid his hand beneath the matted hessian and placed a palm over the wound. He reached out with Eliantora’s gift and focused. The stab was deep and clean—the blade would have come out the other side if it hadn’t struck her sternum. Yet somehow—Seris concentrated—it had miraculously missed her lungs, spine, and every major blood vessel. A finger’s breadth further to the left, and it would have struck her heart.

He whispered a prayer and bent his thoughts towards stopping the blood. He felt the energy beginning to flow through him, and then it abruptly ceased, like a river running dry. Seris blinked, then concentrated, trying again. This time, nothing happened.

He felt a flutter of panic, reaching out desperately for Eliantora’s presence. For one horrible moment, he wondered if Eliantora had abandoned him. His mind raced urgently through his actions over the past few weeks, trying to think of possible transgressions. He’d been in proximity to a bangle, but he hadn’t worn it. He hadn’t gotten any piercings, juggled live fish, or licked blood from anyone’s face—all of which Eliantora frowned upon very seriously.

Seris closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reaching out again.

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