Kelfor- the Orthomancers by Gillian Andrews

Author:Gillian Andrews
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9788469756539
Published: 2017-09-25T22:00:00+00:00

Far, far behind, between the Rift of Abaloss and the Great Chasm, the Thrall is feeding.

Unfortunately only one of the bodies was still fresh when he found the place of fighting. He knew the meat was old and stale, but he is still disappointed not to find living flesh. Blood thickens on death, coagulating into tasteless lumps.

Graven eats, all the same. He needs sustenance. To find her. To follow her. He can still trace her scent even all this time after she has passed. And he is getting closer. If it weren’t for the huge rifts and chasms which crisscross this planet, he would have caught up with her long ago. But the rifts are hard to negotiate; they challenge even Graven’s intelligence and stamina.

Nothing is following him. Nothing can follow. And nothing will. The Raths will never expose themselves to the elements, nor to a creature that can kill them so easily. They never stopped to consider what they were creating! Graven shows his teeth as he contemplates the race which made him. Who would have thought the Raths could taste so bad?

Graven forces himself to swallow. These Scoriats are only good to eat when fresh; they stick in the gullet if not. Still, food is food. Calories must be administered. And the Plains of Teygar are not well-stocked for the hunt. There are few animals, and those that do eke out an existence here are mostly cold-blooded.

Even while he is eating, Graven is using his sense of smell to find traces of her. The remnants of molecules are so few and far between that he almost has to intuit where she has passed. He is on the right track, but the passing of time fades her scent to little less than a faint temptation which hints of better things to come. He must find her. He must smell her again. He has a bond with her now. A bond forced onto him by the Raths, impossible to break. This, he knows, is what they intended. To make him an implacable killer. They have succeeded beyond their wildest expectations.

Graven dips his massive head to the carcass again. This Scoriat was young. Even after some time dead, it is still tender. The razor-sharp teeth rip into the strong muscles that make the dead soldier such a good source of meat. As Graven chews he looks out to the horizon with those clouded eyes of his. There is a promise of death in them.

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