Murthen Island: Book Two: Tales of Golmeira by Ratcliffe Marianne

Author:Ratcliffe, Marianne [Ratcliffe, Marianne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: fantasy, young adult, lesbian
ISBN: 9780993400124
Published: 2015-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-seven

It was a long wait for night to fall. Jerenik began to fidget.

‘I’m bored.’

Ithgol hissed at him, but he would not be silenced.

‘I’m starving to death here.’

‘I’ll kill you myself if you can’t be quiet.’

‘Typical Kyrg. Always offering to kill something. If only you turned your violent urges towards something we could eat. A nice vizzal perhaps? There must be something to hunt on this wretched island.’

‘Fine.’ Zastra stood up. ‘I’ll go.’

Ithgol rose with her.

‘I will join you. If I have to stay here, I will kill him.’

‘I would help,’ offered Jerenik, ‘but I should probably rest. I could have brain swelling.’

‘As if your head could possibly get any bigger.’ Zastra adjusted his bandage, and reassured him that his brain was very much still inside his skull.

‘I’ll enjoy the peace even if we don’t find anything,’ Zastra remarked as they left Jerenik behind. Ithgol responded with a low rattle of agreement.

The sandy island was dry and there was little vegetation, none of which looked edible. Ithgol crouched down and snuffled the air. He froze and then followed an invisible trail that led towards a flat rock. Zastra sniffed the air too, but all she could detect was the faint saltiness of the sea. With a rapid flick of his wrist, Ithgol lifted the rock and impaled a small yellow lizard with the tip of his scythal blade.

‘Is it edible?’ Zastra asked suspiciously.

‘Not delicate enough for your stomach, Golmeiran?’

Zastra didn’t think the lizard looked very appetising, but her belly was grumbling.

‘One’s not going to be enough.’

Ithgol began sniffing the air again.

‘Can you really smell them?’

‘Kyrgs often track by scent. Our womenfolk are best at it.’

‘Womenfolk?’ It had never crossed Zastra’s mind that there must be female Kyrgs. She wondered whether they were as ugly as their menfolk. They ventured deeper into the island, where the terrain became increasingly rocky. Ithgol sniffed out three more lizards. Close to the base of a steep hill, they found a large stream and the Kyrg used his strength to lift rocks from the stream bed, unearthing some green-coloured shellfish. As he lifted a particularly large stone, a river snake as long as his leg was startled out of its slumber. Zastra speared it with her knife.

‘That should do even for Jerenik.’

‘Don’t be so sure. He eats even more than he talks.’

‘I would say that was impossible, but I’ve seen him at breakfast and I think I’d have to agree with you.’

They headed back. To break the silence, Zastra asked a question that had been in her mind ever since her first day aboard the Wind of Golmeira.

‘Why don’t the other Kyrgs like you?’

Ithgol didn’t break stride.

Zastra sighed. ‘Between you and Jerenik, there’s one normal person. He never stops talking, and you never say anything.’

‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘How can I understand if you don’t tell me? Look, you saved my life, which in my view makes us friends. Friends talk to each other.’

Ithgol slowed his pace and half turned towards her.

‘You would be friends with a Kyrg?’

Zastra shrugged.

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