Kyrik and the Wizard's Sword (Kyrik Sword & Sorcery 3 by Gardner Francis Fox

Author:Gardner Francis Fox [Fox, Gardner Francis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gardner Francis Fox Library
Published: 2017-09-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter EIGHT

The Tantagolian never moved. Harakan bounced off his broad chest, at which his fists hammered like gnats' wings. Almost casually, Kyrik lifted his big hands, put them on the magician, and raised him off the roof.

"Be quiet, little man, or I'll toss you onto the cobblestones. Now, what's this all about?"

"What are you doing with Ruthvale?"

"Only what he deserves. Watch and see." He bent over the king, removed his garments after freeing his wrists and ankles, and tossed them to Harakan. "Put them on. It'll protect you from the wind."

"And my clothes?"

"I'll put them on him. You can't walk around in those stinking rags you're wearing."

Harakan looked at him suspiciously. "Where am I going to walk to?"

Kyrik was too busy putting his rags on the king to answer him. When he was done, he raised Ruthvale to a shoulder and stepped out upon the metal pole. The magician gasped, barely breathing.

He ran across the pole, dropped down onto the cage. Ruthvale was moaning, but the Tantagolian ignored him. He held the king in his hands, then lowered him into the cage.

Murder glared at him from the royal eyes. The muscles worked in Ruthvale's throat and face, but he could utter no words with the gag in his mouth. "Your guards will find you eventually," Kyrik said cheerfully. "By that time you may have second thoughts about putting magicians in cages like this."

He dropped him into the cage, then closed and fastened the trapdoor. The king of Uthapor was kicking the bars, making an unholy racket, but Kyrik ignored this to step up on the pole and run lightly over it to the roof.

Harakan had not moved. He stood in the royal garments with the wind blowing his cloak, and scowled.

"I don't know why you set me free, and I suppose I should be grateful, but you've spoiled everything. Ruthvale will blame me for what's happened, and he won't take me back into his favor again."

"Deliver me from fools," Kyrik grunted. "If that's what you call being in Ruthvale's favor, I wouldn't want to have him mad at me."

"You don't understand. He was punishing me, but he would have forgiven me in time and let me out to be his wizard again."

"Instead, you're coming with me, out of Uthapor.”

"By the fiends of Avernol, I'll do nothing of the sort. I'm going to Japhet, who's the captain of the royal guards, and tell him exactly what happened, and that I had no part in it."

Kyrik smiled gently and put a hand to the mage's neck. His fingers tightened slowly. Harakan sobbed, caught that massive wrist in his two hands, and tried to push it away. He might as well have been trying to bend an iron bar.

"Little man, you'll do what I say. If you don't, I'll leave your dead body here for the birds to pick at."

"Ruthvale will send his army after us. They'll capture us and he'll see to it that you take a long time dying."

"Not if we leave now.

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