The Spook's Sacrifice by Joseph Delaney

Author:Joseph Delaney
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781407049014
Publisher: RHCB
Published: 2011-02-23T00:46:18+00:00

We finally descended through a pine forest, then crossed the arid plain towards Meteora. I knew that the monasteries were built on high rocks, so even if we'd wandered too far south, we should still be able to see them from a good distance.

On the second day of our journey we thought we saw dust rising into the sky on the horizon. It could have been Mam's party – or maybe it was the maenads who'd attacked them. So to avoid the risk of capture we kept our distance.

Then at last, to the north-east, we saw the rocks of Meteora. The closer we got, the more spectacular they appeared. Rising from green thickets of trees and scrub, huge pillars of rock, sculpted by the elements, towered above us. And perched on their summits were the famed monasteries. It seemed impossible that such buildings could have been constructed on those perilous heights, let alone made secure enough to withstand the ravages of weather and time.

The small walled town of Kalambaka lay at the foot of the rocks, bordered to the south by groves of olive trees. Shielding my eyes against the sun, I searched the horizon. Mam had feared that we might be too late, but there was as yet no sign of the Ordeen's citadel.

We skirted the town and made our camp deep within the thickets below the rocks, hiding away from any watchers. Only the monks could look down on us from their strongholds.

The town was lit by lanterns strung on ropes between the houses; they moved to and fro when the wind was up. That first night we spent hours watching them: the stars above slowly wheeling about the sky from east to west while the lanterns danced below. We ate well too. Alice caught some rabbits and they proved to be as succulent as any we'd tasted in the County.

On the second night, while we were eating, Alice sniffed danger and stood up quickly, her finger to her lips. But her warning came too late.

A massive shape came out of the trees into the clearing where we were eating. I heard a snort and a metallic sound, and at that moment the crescent moon appeared from behind a cloud, conjuring up a gleaming silver apparition before our startled gaze.

It was a horseman dressed in chain-mail, two great swords attached to his saddle. And what a horse he rode! This was no heavy lumbering beast such as those used to draw barges or pull wagons back in the County; it was a thoroughbred, fine and high-stepping, with an arched neck and a form built for speed. Its rider was a warrior from head to toe; he had an aquiline nose and high cheekbones, long hair and a full moustache that obscured his mouth.

The rider drew his sword, and for a moment I thought he intended to attack, but he simply indicated that we should leave the clearing. We didn't argue; we simply turned and headed into the trees.

At dawn we realized that this warrior was a scout, clearing the way for his followers.

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