Blood of Ten Kings by Edward Lazellari

Author:Edward Lazellari
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

CHAPTER 23

THE CRAWL

1

Despite the clear blue sky, the town was thick with a drab mood. Rumblings and a gray line to the west hinted at a soaking soon enough. The consensus was to get across the bridge as fast as possible—not to seek cover in Meadsweir. Only hills and forests awaited them on the other side of the river, settlements having long been abandoned since Meadsweir went dark; bears and wolves were known elements they could take their chances with.

Shops and homes, tightly spaced, lined the street. They were worn with age but otherwise intact—no indication of unnatural disasters. The street ran straight for sixty yards and then curved down to the left toward the river. This was a true street of stone and mortar, not the grubby muddy roads of Yarmouth and Crowe’s Porte. Rusting sewer grates denoted advanced drainage. They certainly did have money and people at one time. The usual clop, clop, clop of the horses echoed too loudly for comfort in the desolation. The shadows grew long as the sun fell toward the rumbling line of clouds; they were the only thing that moved in this life-sized diorama and it played tricks on the mind. Not a rat, nor a bird, was evident. Even the insects shunned this place. It gave Daniel the heebie-jeebies.

Most residents had departed long before the final demise, but bodies cropped up sporadically along the street—mostly soldiers. These loyal (or stubborn) denizens were finely preserved for people who had died three centuries ago; except for a pinkish coloration, like severe sunburn, their decomposition was akin to couple of days. Time crawled in Meadsweir.

“Just hole up here,” Seth suggested to Daniel. “Farrenheil would never come looking.”

“We’re getting Danny to the Gate,” Cat said tensely. She glimpsed Lelani when she said this. It bothered Daniel to see discord among his friends.

“Please, silence yourselves,” Urry whispered.

The curve opened up to a circular plaza with an ornate fountain at its center; four phoenixes back-to-back chiseled from granite—the oxidized tips of water pipes peeked out from their open beaks like green worms. Surrounding the plaza were long-abandoned shops, taverns, inns, and half-timbered trade houses with gabled roofs and spackled white plaster that reminded Daniel of Bavarian architecture. Four streets led into this plaza; to the right, King’s Lane led to the castle, which despite its lower elevation by the river, still towered magnificently over all Meadsweir. Where the castle was, so too was the bridge.

“You guys feel that?” Seth asked. Daniel did not feel a thing; Seth was alone in his observation based on everyone’s expressions. “The air’s like pure oxygen,” he continued. “Feels like I just downed a Red Bull.”

“Well don’t fly away just yet,” Daniel said.

The rest of the town was the same—until they came upon a cluster of fallen soldiers … broken and mangled, clawed and bitten … but not consumed. Wagons and boxes that had been part of a barrier were sprawled all over the road—a last stand, if Daniel ever saw one.

“Whatever it is, it does not consume flesh,” Ladue noted.

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