Of Shadows and Dragons by B. V. Larson

Author:B. V. Larson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: B. V. Larson
Published: 2011-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

-11-

They were ushered to a room and brought hot stew and hot brandy. Gruum sipped and sniffed the food distrustfully.

“My good man,” said Therian in amusement, watching him. “They would not bother to poison us, should their intent be to break their word.”

“Something is not right here, milord,” Gruum responded. Reluctantly, he dipped a crust of bread in the stew and chewed. The flavor was good, but he could not enjoy it.

“Something is not right?” asked Therian. “I rather would say that nothing is right here. This is a cursed placed full of cursed beings. And I do not hesitate to include ourselves in that description.”

“I’ll not be able to sleep here,” said Gruum sitting on a cold, musty bed. The sheets so cold as to be half-frozen, but he had to admit the goose feather mattress was softer even than the snow outside.

“As you will,” Therian said. He folded his cloak over a trunk and addressed his own featherbed.

“What do you think they are doing with that poor girl, milord?”

“Hopefully, they are allowing her to get some sleep before dawn grays the windows.”

Gruum finished his food, then fretted and stretched on the bed. The sleep of exhaustion crept upon him and snatched away his mind. He could not resist the velvet blackness of slumber.

Sometime later, in the stillest hour of the night, his eyes snapped open. Had something entered the room with them? He sat up.

There, in the corner of the room, a pool of deep shadow lay. This was strange only because there was no bright light. The windows had grayed with the dawn, but there was no sunlight. Nothing, at least, that could be responsible for casting a shadow of such black depth.

“Milord?” whispered Gruum. He watched the shadow. Did it twitch? No, it could not have. His eyes ran to the ceiling, expecting to see an assassin hanging there, but there was none. There was nothing in the room that could have cast that shadow. No source of harsh light, nor an object to block it.

As Gruum watched, the shadow did move. There could be no doubt of it. The darkness left the corner. It crept to the foot of Therian’s bed, where it halted and lay in an ovoid puddle like thick, spilled ink.

“Milord?” Gruum called, his voice louder.

“What is it, man?”

“There is something… something that lies at the foot of your bed.”

“Yes,” said Therian, sighing. “Take care not to step in it. Do not turn the beam of a light directly upon it, either.”

Gruum thought these statements over for a moment before speaking further. While he watched, the shadow crept beneath the thick, round posts of Therian’s bed. Gruum was reminded of a cat, withdrawing from unwanted scrutiny.

“What is it, sire?”

“Do you not recognize it?”

Gruum blinked, and watched as the last of it moved under Therian’s bed and vanished completely. He could feel the presence of it, as if it watched him.

“It is the substance we left upon the roadway, is it not?” Gruum asked.

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