The second siege: book two of the tapestry by Henry H. Neff

Author:Henry H. Neff [Henry H. Neff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Jeunesse
ISBN: 9780375892363
Published: 2008-08-15T07:39:50+00:00

A funereal silence filled the transport pod. Cooper seemed preternaturally calm as he placed the kris across his lap and methodically double-checked his bootlaces and the fastenings on David’s backpack. Cinching the straps a bit tighter, he handed the bag to Max.

“Keep this with you,” he said quietly. “Don’t give it up.” “What are you planning to do?” asked Mr. McDaniels hoarsely.

“I don’t know,” replied the Agent, looking out the window and breathing deeply.

The pod glided down the tube’s moderate decline before banking smoothly around a turn that deposited them into the enormous entry hall. Redwoods stretched toward shafts of artificial sunlight as the pod skimmed past abandoned tables and chairs and the café, whose espresso machine sputtered plumes of steam. Far ahead were the gates—a tall rectangle of swimming torchlight where distant ogres seemed no more than matchsticks propped against the great silver doors.

The ogres appeared considerably larger as the pod approached. The monsters loomed twelve feet tall, with gnarled limbs, swollen bellies, and wet eyes that leered with piggish cunning from under gladiatorial helmets. Two dozen of them stood lining the open doors, careful not to extend even a toe over the gate’s threshold. Beyond them, Augur waited astride a horse that Max now saw was no living thing at all but an undead construct of pale bone and sinew beneath its ornate plating.

The skeletal horse’s teeth champed and ground together; bone slid smoothly over bone while the horse pranced restlessly from side to side in a jingle of plates and straps and stirrups. Nick took one look at the hollow eyes and made an agitated hissing noise Max had never heard before. Grizzly-like claws extended from between the lymrill’s toes, and he scratched frantically against the windows.

“Don’t look at them,” said Max, squeezing his father’s hand as the pod slowed to a halt.

Mr. McDaniels made a sound in his throat but did not respond.

Max began to sense the same terrible coldness he’d experienced in Marley Augur’s crypt the previous year. It was an unnatural feeling, a cadaverous chill of icy bogs and frostbitten graves that crept up the fingernails and slid under the skin to tunnel deep within the marrow.

“I can’t breathe,” his father croaked.

Max was confident his father would persevere; he was more worried about David. His roommate looked like a small lump of uncooked dough that had been wedged into a corner of the pod. For all of David’s uncanny knowledge and power, Max knew he had never experienced anything like this before. Marley Augur was a far cry from the lonely spirit they’d encountered during their Acclimation.

Cooper exited the pod, keeping his wary eyes on the ogres as the rest clambered out. The blacksmith was a terrible figure indeed as he looked down upon them, proud and grim as an ancient king. Beyond the horseman was a sea of sputtering torches and glinting teeth that waited in breathless silence.

“We’ve done as you’ve asked,” Cooper said. “Remove those barricades so they can close the gates.”

“You do not command here,” said Marley Augur in a voice deep and cold.

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