The Heretic (Beyond the Wall Book 1) by Lucas Bale

The Heretic (Beyond the Wall Book 1) by Lucas Bale

Author:Lucas Bale [Bale, Lucas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Matter Publishing
Published: 2014-06-24T07:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER TEN

Gambling

SHOUTS FROM outside shattered the hum of the camp. Hard voices edged with fear and anger. Sounds of a scuffle followed quickly, and the preacher turned from Jordi and pushed through the flap of the tent.

Shepherd glanced again at the boy—whose eyes were drawn to the preacher as he left—and then followed the preacher outside. As he lifted the flap and ducked under it, he saw two men wrestling in the snow. He watched the preacher stride over and, with both hands, grab the one on top and haul him off. The man kicked as he flailed backwards, and the preacher wheeled in place, flinging him away.

Strong guy.

Then he reached down and pulled the other man up. As he did so, the first man—perhaps embarrassed by the ease with which he’d been removed, or still in the throes of his fury—charged at the preacher.

Shepherd was about to call out, but stopped himself. He wanted to watch. Something about the preacher intrigued him, and he wanted to see how he handled the situation.

The man had not been thrown far, and covered the ground in a heartbeat. Yet, the preacher appeared to be expecting his reaction—and stepped aside smoothly. He kicked out and tripped the man, sending him again sprawling to the frozen forest floor.

Then he was on him. Shepherd almost didn’t see him move. Every action was precise and measured, as if muscle memory guided every feint and punch automatically. The preacher leapt onto the man and struck him once in the face, hard. Then he reached for the man’s throat, grabbed it with one hand, and leaned in close to his face. Their eyes met, and the man’s face became freighted with fear. The preacher whispered something to him and the man shook his head tightly.

The preacher eased off him and backed away. The man stared furiously at him as he stumbled to his feet.

Then the preacher spoke. ‘You’re afraid,’ he said. ‘I understand that. If the winter doesn’t kill us, men with weapons will. That frightens you. Let it. Accept the fear, because it will never go away. If you want freedom, you will need to fight for it. Every man, woman and child has a duty to live. Fighting amongst ourselves achieves nothing, and is exactly what they want.’

A crowd had gathered. Everyone in the camp had stopped and formed a circle around the scuffle.

‘We’re starving,’ one man shouted.

‘So many of us are sick and dying,’ a woman cried.

‘We need to leave here,’ another said. ‘Find somewhere safer. Vaarden knows the forest; he might know where we are.’

‘We can’t leave,’ a woman shouted. ‘The sick cannot be moved!’

The tumult began—each of them clamouring to be heard, shrieking their own desperate opinions and heedless to the opinions of others. Shepherd watched and shook his head.

They won’t last long.

The preacher let them argue. For a moment he contemplated them silently, then he turned and walked away. One of the women watched him go, and Shepherd saw the terror flood her eyes.



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