Verge of Darkness (Threads of Fate Book 1) by Ollie Odebunmi

Author:Ollie Odebunmi [Odebunmi, Ollie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Epic Anthologies
Published: 2017-02-13T07:00:00+00:00

The Ghost Fortress

Masrel the blacksmith twisted in his seat and looked down the long column that stretched back as far as he could see. The sad sight was made up of men and women old and young, and children; some on foot and others squeezed on wagons and carts piled high with belongings

Masrel wasn't a happy man. Somehow, he had been chosen leader of the convoy fleeing the terror of the Gualich. It didn't sit easy with him having all that responsibility. He glanced at the woman perched next to him on the wagon's uncomfortable seat. His wife Sula, a thin hatchet-faced woman kept her eyes fixed ahead.

Muttering an obscenity under his breath, he wondered how he had got himself in this situation. He had begun to question what he had seen at Petras Park. Perhaps Casca had imbibed too much of his own wares with all this talk about demons coming to drink their souls. Could be they had been nothing but wild dogs after all.

And here he was on a wagon with his wife and two children, and as much of his worldly possessions he could pack, fleeing to the mountains. He cursed again. His mistress, Lorell, sat on the other side of him. She had no one else, and he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave her behind.

Sula had poured scorn on all the talk of demons and didn't see the sense in leaving her home and belongings for an uncertain future in the mountains. Her ire had deepened when he told her Lorell would be coming with them. He had surprised himself at his insistence, for her sharp tongue had always shrivelled him.

Now, he was doubting the wisdom of his actions. He glanced at Lorell. Like Sula, she ignored him, keeping her gaze to the front. Sayler's tits, he thought, now neither of them would even acknowledge him.

He’d had to put up with their icy silence since they left Petralis. Glancing at Lorell again, he couldn't help but admire the lines of her face; the pert upturned nose, flashing dark eyes and full lips. He felt a faint stirring in his groin. Sayler's tits, man, he chided himself, get a hold of yourself!

The convoy was making painfully slow process. It could only go as fast as its slowest member, and Masrel was determined none would be left behind. Someone rode up to him. It was Kalas the tracker. “I think we need to stop soon,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “The old ones and children are tired and need to rest. There is an abandoned fortress not too far ahead. It is an ideal place to stop for a spell.”

Masrel nodded. “Aye, we could all do with a rest. The heavens know I would love to get off this pigging wagon and ease my sore backside. Why don't you ride back and pass word we’ll be stopping soon.

Kalas grimaced in sympathy. “My backside don't feel too good neither. It's been a while since I've spent so long in the saddle.

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