In a Time of Treason by David Keck

Author:David Keck
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780765351708
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2009-04-28T04:00:00+00:00

22. The Banished and the Lost

Durand slithered down, barking knees and shoulders against the mere wall as he spun like a fisherman’s weight. They were looking down on him: Lamoric, Kieren, the Duke. In another window, he saw Deorwen, her eyes alive with dread.

And then the rope ended, slipping through his knees to drop him into the frigid grip of the mere.

He clamped his jaw against the urge to hiss at the sudden cold. There were archers on the nearest pier; the splash was enough without cursing.

Casting round, he spotted the raft—little more than wreckage—and, with the thing firmly under his ribs, he kicked himself slowly out of bowshot. Never a great swimmer, now he was hampered by Lamoric’s parting gift: a token no man of Gireth could ever mistake: the Sword of Judgment, now slung like an anchor around his neck.

For the better part of an hour, he kicked. Muscles locked in wandering spasms as he aimed for the black horizon. The yellow loops of the castle’s mere wall dwindled over his shoulder, though he was still nearby when the last refugees in the old fortress sank into sleep and left him alone in the dark.

Soon the waves were his horizon. He could see no more than a few yards in any direction.

Overhead, mists of thin light drifted among the hard points of the stars. With difficulty he found his way among the Lords of Heaven with their shields and spears until he came upon the lodestar around which all the others turned. With the lodestar on his left hand, he kicked his way eastward.

He thought of Deorwen behind him. He wondered how long she had watched.

Rhythm closed around him. He beat his feet. He scarcely felt the blind squeeze of the mere around his legs or the drag of his long linen undershirt billowing. He fought an urge to climb up on his few planks to see how far he could see: they’d never hold him. He might have been alone under the Heavens.

Then something splashed.

Durand froze.

Two broad leagues from any land, something stamped water into spray: hooves. He had expected to drown, for the cold and dark to beat him, the rivers were still whispered full of ice. The Banished had always stalked the wastelands between man’s firelit circles.

“Host of Heaven,” he gasped. Ranked waves walled him in, his breath loud between them.

Hoofbeats circled, flashing spray. Then there was a liquid thunder, as though some sea-beast was hauling a warship down by its anchor ropes.

“Host of Heaven,” Durand swore and kicked with all his strength.

Something was rising before him, black with rot. Rushes hung. He saw a broad curve like the stern rail of some sunken ship, but, as the water streamed away, he understood: it was a massive sweep of horns and a broad brow of hair. A bovine head broke the surface before him, rotten and bulking greater than the whole carcass of a festival bull. The milky globes of its eyes shone like pale lanterns, while its nostrils disgorged torrents of bottom clay.

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.