The Bones of the Earth by Scott Hale

The Bones of the Earth by Scott Hale

Author:Scott Hale [Hale, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scott Hale
Published: 2015-06-09T04:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER XX

There was little they could do but stare at the gaping hole above. Blood trickled and streamed down through the layer of roots ruptured by the beast. The sunlight, which seemed so severe, poured through the hole and revealed the grisly scene in all its detail. While there were still remains of Geharra and Alluvia scattered across the chamber, the majority of the dead seemed to have been taken topside by the creature.

Lucan groaned as he yanked pieces of rock from his forearm. “We need to go.” His voice shook as he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Vrana said. It’s the attack on the village all over again. “I didn’t know. If I had known, I wouldn’t have dropped it, went out there with it …”

Deimos shushed her. “We didn’t either, Vrana. We all took a look at it.”

“What was that?” R’lyeh asked, trembling; one more trauma and there would be nothing left of the girl.

“Let’s get above ground first,” Deimos said, trying to remain calm, while Serra moved aside rocks that had fallen in front of the tunnel.

Vrana felt numb. There was nothing she could do but keep going. She wiped the blood off the hilts of her daggers so as to grip them better. She set the bow on the ground; its string had snapped free of the stave. Bjørn would be mad, but she didn’t care. Serra took the remainder of her arrows and consolidated them with his own. She found herself staring at R’lyeh, and R’lyeh at her, as though one was waiting for the other to say something.

“Where are we?” Vrana asked as she heard the beast lumber overhead.

“Near the mountains, the eastern side of the city, I believe.” Deimos had one last glance at the area, too wary to brave the blood-slickened ramp for more evidence. “Let’s go, before we can’t get away from it.”

Lucan, sounding dizzy, said, “I think that’s it. That’s why they captured Alluvia.”

R’lyeh turned around, desperate to hear his theory.

“People will come now, and they’ll find the masks,” the Beetle continued. “If they’re convinced we can do something like this, then they’ll either worship us or, the more likely of the two, hunt us to extinction.”

They were still near the hollow when they heard it: nails, scratching frantically at stone, and breathing, fast and hoarse and fevered. Vrana noticed the shine of Serra’s eyes as he turned to face the hollow, bow and arrow in hand. Lucan pressed himself against the cobblestone wall and dabbed his fingers at the bloody hole in his mask. He asked Serra what he saw, but there was no reply. R’lyeh tried to leave Vrana’s side for the Piranha’s, but the Raven took her by the wrist and held on tight. The sounds grew louder, desperate. Serra nocked an arrow and pulled it back as far as his body would allow and waited.

A hand—rather, a claw reached up and clamped down onto the ramp. Another followed, and then there was a head, a pulpy mass of flesh that housed a dented skull and two sunken eyes.



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