A Prayer of Freaks and Sinners by D. Elias Jenkins

Author:D. Elias Jenkins [Jenkins, D. Elias]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-20T22:00:00+00:00

9

It lay before them at the end of a long valley. Huge broken rocks sat shattered along their route and geysers of hot ash sprayed fumes into the air.

The Torrent, a mile across. A fuming mass of stormclouds twisted into a bulging lumpy sphere. It rippled and undulated, growing boils of churning vapor that burst into lightning and deflated. No visibility through the maelstrom. No way to gage what lay inside. Only what myths and old books had told them. And visions.

Alfred and Deena had not spoken with the other aspirants about their recurring visions. Some part of them wanted to believe that it a freak coincidence that they both shared waking dreams. If happening to the others too, that would dispel all doubts. They would know that what lay ahead of them was nothing but nightmares and death.

Peyter leaned across on his horse and spat a gobbet of phlegm onto the ground. He shrugged at the Torrent.

"Looks bigger up close."

Deena rolled her eyes at the flat faced lad and spurred her horse past him.

"Things do, idiot."

Peyter opened his mouth to reply, but smart ripostes not being his strength, he sat in his saddle and grumbled, glancing at the Torrent growing ever closer.

Deena rode up level to Invar, who sat like a hunched bear on his big horse. A grey fur drawn around him and his beard flecked with frost. Deena gave him a respectful little nod and spoke.

"So what's the plan master Invar? What do the books tell us about getting inside?"

Invar raised a snow dusted brow.

"Very little, I'm afraid. Although our good brother Latherus states that he just released Angall's Whisper when he was next to the maelstrom, and it opened for him. Your fellow aspirant Alfred over there managed to translate something similar from some of the old texts. Isn't that right Alfred?"

Alfred looked up when he heard his name. He had been lost in his own private terrors. His hands gripped the reins so hard his knuckles had turned white. He had woken up before dawn, staring at the grey stone ceiling, and trying to figure a way out of this day. He had built up some courage over the past week, but it had drained from him this morning like a puddle beneath melting ice. He looked up and saw Invar and Deena staring at him, both with a familiar air of impatience and sour temper. Alfred cleared his throat but his voice still quavered a bit.

"Erm, yes, that's correct. It seems our little puff of holy fire is good for more than lighting candles, or sinking ships as I’ve heard in your case Deena."

Deena, in no mood for japery, just scowled at him then resumed her slow canter onwards. The straw haired girl Farah drew her hood back and stared at the Torrent ahead.

"We just ride straight up to it and wave our hands about until something happens?"

Sebastian snorted at her. He sat tall and regal in his saddle, his shoulder-length blonde hair blowing. He looked every inch an arrogant prince.

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