Journey of Thieves (Legends of Dimmingwood Book 5) by C. Greenwood

Author:C. Greenwood
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2014-12-21T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

It was a small bolt of lightning I created, weak compared to the charge a more skilled magicker might have produced. But it shot through the air in a crackle of blue light and struck true against the base of a tall tower of rock nearby. The lower stones exploded in a shower of splinters and shards. The heavy rocks above suddenly had nothing to stand on and collapsed, rolling end over end down the mountainside.

Micanthria looked up, but in the path of the rockslide, she had only time to roar and spread her wings. Before she could take flight, the massive chunks of rock rained down on her with crushing force. In seconds, she was buried beneath the rubble.

I didn’t wait for the last rock to come to rest before rushing down the slope. Only when I stood atop the mountain of debris with the dust settling did I realize the dragon buried beneath was not going to come bursting forth again. She was thoroughly dead.

I went to Martyn then. The brutal force of Micanthria’s blow had knocked him safely free of the rockslide. But as I knelt where he sprawled on the ground, I knew he had escaped one death only for another. His chest was blood-soaked, and there was a ragged tear where the spike of Micanthria’s wing had ripped through him. He could not live long.

He was conscious and, on realizing I was beside him, grabbed my arm, nails digging painfully into my skin.

“You spoke the truth? About my father?” he gasped painfully, as if there had been no break since our last conversation.

“I swear it.”

“And he was avenged?”

“He was,” I promised.

Martyn coughed, and spots of blood formed at the edges of his mouth. “I followed… because I had to know.”

I imagined him determinedly crossing the desert on his injured leg, dragging himself from one water hole to the next these past two days, trying to keep up with me. All for an answer.

It was growing harder for him to speak, and he pulled me closer. “I have traded my life for yours… Repay me.”

I winced at the urgency of his grip. “How can I do that?”

“My young brother, Jarrod. Look after him.”

I nodded dumbly. I had no notion where I could find this Jarrod or what looking after him would entail. But I was in no position to refuse.

Martyn gazed past me, his expression growing fixed. I sensed his life slipping away, but I couldn’t let him go yet.

“Wait! I need the name of the man who hired you in Selbius. The member of the Praetor’s council who wants me dead.”

But he was already gone, his hand on my arm growing slack and falling away.

Disturbed by the way his staring eyes still looked like Brig’s, I drew down his eyelids. They would not stay closed, so I covered his face with his torn, blood-stained cloak.

Collecting my bow from the ground near his lifeless corpse, I felt hollow inside. This young man had not been my friend, had in fact spent most of our short acquaintance trying to kill me.

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