The Staff and the Sword 03 A Draw Of Kings by Patrick W. Carr

Author:Patrick W. Carr [Carr, Patrick W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042080, FIC009000, FIC009020
ISBN: 9781441263421
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2014-02-18T00:00:00+00:00

23

THE CITY OF FIRE

ERROL’S LUNGS HEAVED as they strove to make the distance that would grant them safety from the spawn. Leaves as large as his torso whipped across his face as he struggled to keep the pace the holy man, Adayo, and the chieftain, Phamba, demanded.

Tek’s weight, shared with Merodach, added no more than perhaps ten pounds to Errol’s burden. The sailing captain remained fit, despite his years of land-locked exile, so he was still able to do his part, but the speed the Ongolese required threatened to undo them all. A few paces behind, Rale ran with the determination of one who had decided his heart would burst before he quit.

Tek tripped, then fell, taking Errol down with him. Phamba growled and pulled his sword, advancing on the gasping figure of the ship’s captain.

Tek stared up at the broad gleam of the blade, panting. Waiting. “Tell Brandy I loved her as much as the sea.”

Errol scrambled to put himself between Phamba and Amos Tek.

“Move, lad,” Tek said. “I can’t make the run. I’ve turned my ankle. It won’t bear my weight.”

“Then we’ll carry you,” Errol said without looking back. “Get up on your good leg so you can wrap your arms around Merodach’s shoulders and mine.”

Adayo drew his sword, mirroring Phamba, the tip coming within inches of Errol’s chest. “Stupid pale one, would you die for him?”

“We won’t die.”

The holy man turned his head and spat. “The ancients will devour you if you do not cross the river before sunset. At night, this jungle belongs to them. He will not make it.” He gestured with the blade. “Move, pale one. Better I kill your comrade quickly with the sword than leave him for the twisted ones. They keep their prey alive as long as possible while they devour it. Would you wish that for him?”

The holy man’s simple description sent pulses of fear down Errol’s spine. “Then leave us. We will make the crossing or not, but I won’t leave him.”

Adayo shook his head. “You do not have that choice, Errol Stone. You have given me your name, your complete name. By the law of our land, you are mine to command.” The holy man’s gaze bored into him, and the blade neared his throat. “I ask you again, would you die for him?”

Movement at the corner of his eye pulled his gaze. Guards held Merodach and Rale, a blade at each man’s throat and a point at their belly. Errol tried not to shrink from Adayo’s threat. Rale and Merodach offered no help, their eyes, one pair blue like the sky and the other gray, were resigned. He swallowed. Were either of those captains in charge, Tek would be dead already. They were men of the watch, accustomed to sacrifice—theirs or someone else’s.

He couldn’t do it. They might all die for the sake of a gimpy sea captain, but he would not be the means of a friend’s death.

Fury contorted Adayo’s face. “Move, northlander. Move if you would live.

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