Reality's Plaything by Will Greenway

Author:Will Greenway
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty-One

Bannor gestured to his left where he knew Laramis stood. The bulky silhouette outlined against the gnarled scale-bark tree could be no other than the paladin. A cool gust of mountain air rustled the leaves overhead, pushing tendrils of mist through the foliage. Bannor felt the perspiration on his forehead turning icy in the wintry morning breeze. The hair on his arms stiffened.

He saw metal glinting from the corner of his eye. Orienting, he recognized Wren and Sarai creeping up parallel to him. The two women advanced shoulder-to-shoulder, passing through the undergrowth as silently as wraiths.

Bannor sniffed again. A rotting sourness tainted with sulfur still lingered in air; the smell of demon spawn.

In the last week, he'd become familiar with more kinds of abyssal creatures than he ever wanted. This particular malodor belonged to the snakelike echis.

The beast's body was similar to a human's except shiny gray chitinous scales took the place of skin. A yard long neck that ended in a dragon-like head protruded from between muscular shoulders. Added to the creature's ability to wield swords and knives, long claws instead of nails tipped its hands. A full array of serrated teeth lined powerful jaws. As the monsters hunted, they let out an undulating hiss that set flesh to crawling. Bannor had fought several, but experience made the battles little easier. Where echis lurked, Hecate's armored minions were never far away.

His fingers twitched around the hafts of his axes as he took cover behind the nearest tree. The damp ground squished underfoot.

Wren and Sarai's combined skills had led them here into the forests on the eastern slopes of the Westros Mountains. In different times, Bannor would have derided the idea that the Malanian army would have sought refuge in Corwin's territory but the world was under attack now. All forests were the domain of the elves and no-one had time to dispute their trespassing.

He squinted up through the tree-line. Rising from a fleecy girdle of gray-tinged clouds the stair-stepped face of Jhared peak gleamed in the ocher light of dawn. Snow ran down its sides like rivulets of white icing on a betrothal cake. Jhared pass was where Sarai figured the main Malanian host must have situated their base camp. Being located in rough terrain, guarded on two sides by sheer rock walls and surrounded by snow and trees it seemed a logical spot.

The problem lay in getting there without being shredded by avatar forces or punctured by elven arrows.

A crunch of breaking vegetation made Bannor freeze. He sensed Wren and Sarai do the same, bodies crouched low and oriented to the northeast. To his left, the hum of steel quietly leaving the sheath sounded from where he last saw Laramis.

His heart beat faster and he gripped his axes. After dozens of battles, he would give almost anything to avoid another fight. His aching muscles and upset stomach cried out for them to simply be left alone.

Between the boles of the trees, he saw the breeze flicking through the brambles.

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