Escape from Bythos by Phil Tucker

Author:Phil Tucker [Tucker, Phil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Fiction
Published: 2016-06-09T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Enderl hauled himself up onto the narrow ledge, then balanced on his stomach for a moment before grunting and pushing himself up to his knees. He was high above the cavern floor, and would never have been able to make the climb in his armor. It felt strange to be without it; the heavy plate gave him a sense of invulnerability, a sense that had been proven illusory by the cavekiller. Could one harvest that monster's legs for weaponry? He'd never seen the like, shearing through breastplate and greaves as if they were soft leather.

He turned carefully and looked down at Zekko. The slave was holding a lance in each hand, and at Enderl's nod tossed the first up. He had to practically throw it like a spear, hurling it up so that Enderl could reach out and snatch it out of the air. A good throw -- the Bythian had strength to him. The second came up just as neatly, and Enderl set them both against the wall.

It was a hell of a drop from here -- seven yards onto rock floor. Still, if all went well he'd be falling onto a writhing, snapping cavekiller. He snorted. That was much more comforting.

Zekko picked up Enderl's blade and lowered himself to a crouch, then tapped the pommel against the ground. He did so again, harder, and then continued tapping every two seconds. The Bythian had assured Enderl that the cavekiller would come, that the monsters had learned to associate that sound with mining -- which meant the presence of humans and rich veins of ore, both sustenance in some strange way.

Enderl rubbed his hands against the corner of the ledge, working grit into the seams of his callused palms, and then took up the lances. He held them like daggers, points down. He'd have no control over them beyond a direct fall onto the monster's back.

He almost smiled. What a way to die. For years he'd dreaded dying in some makeshift infirmary after a battle, rot and gangrene claiming his life after a minor wound. No, this was best. It was fitting to die screaming defiance into the face of an overwhelming foe.

He crouched down, lances hanging below him, and watched the Bythian. What a strange man. He'd never seen such self-awareness in a slave. Perhaps he'd never looked, but this man was different, caught up in some trial of his own, some personal devilment. It made him bold, which was useful today but probably a fatal flaw in the long run. Yet here he was, showing the kind of bravery Enderl would expect from a Black Wolf, not a miner. And his words had been beyond strange. Either he sacrificed everything or he turned rabid dog. Didn't he know the fate of all rabid dogs? How could that be an option? Perhaps, then, he was simply choosing the best way to die: put down by Ennoians or consumed by a cavekiller.

The rhythmic clinks rang out over and over again, and Enderl tightened his grips on the lances.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.