Out of Shadows : Book 1 of The Darkplaces. by Oliver Carman

Author:Oliver Carman [Carman, Oliver]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2023-05-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Breath steamed from Brennan’s mouth, icy fingers slipping beneath his tattered clothes as he traversed the hillside. Yet his face burned with a fever. Half an hour ago—maybe less—it wouldn’t have taken a stretch of imagination to convince himself that he was dying of a sickness, a plague roasting his organs away from the inside. But as Dunn scrambled through the night, his own clothes crusted with white powder and dried blood, Brennan had a constant reminder: the dust was still pumping through both their bodies.

Dogs howled and the angry shouts of men followed. Dunn cowered, covering his head with his arms, hurling himself into the undergrowth.

“They’ve found us.” Dunn’s shrieked. The treetops came alive in a clamour of squawking and cracking wings, the light sleepers of the night providing a handy signpost to Brennan’s hunters, as if they didn’t have enough help already. Bracken and fir cones crunched beneath his boots, and Brennan lunged into the shadows and gripped Dunn by the shoulders, tearing him off the ground.

“Now look at me,” Brennan snarled, nose to nose with the lad, giving him a face full of his stinking breath.

“It’s found us. I saw it moving in the trees.” Dunn’s eyes were black pools, dancing frantically here and there as he struggled to break free from Brennan’s grip. There was a limit to his patience, and all things considered, Brennan reckoned he’d been very understanding in the light of the evening’s events. But much more of this behaviour and he’d abandon the lad to his own fate.

“It’s men and dogs that’s chasing us,” Brennan said. “Nothing else, but you carry on with this nonsense, you’ll get us both killed.”

Dunn’s chest heaved, “but I saw—”

“But nothing.” Brennan shook Dunn and the lad’s eyes rolled. “Do you hear me?”

Brennan couldn’t go through all this again. Three times he’d explained. Well, three times that Brennan could remember—it may have been more—and three times he’d had to shake some sense into Dunn. Yet on every occasion, it went the same way. A brief moment of clarity from Dunn; then moments later the madness took hold and the lad would tear off into the darkness. It was enough trouble for Brennan to keep a grip on reality himself without controlling Dunn. Whatever had been in that crate, Brennan reckoned it was for consumption with prudence, unless you were in the business of losing your mind. Dunn was caked in the stuff, and Brennan had inhaled a lungful, so he had some sympathy regarding how Dunn must’ve felt.

The last thing Brennan could recall outside the brothel was a rush like nothing he’d ever felt and then screaming and demented music inside his head. Next Brennan was up high, the wind rushing through his knotted hair and the stink of fire clinging to his body. Single-handed, he clung on to a gnarled tree, watching a strip of orange glow along the coast, whilst in the other hand, he gripped the hilt of the Sword of Fathers, the blade washed dark with blood.

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