The Forever Man (W.A.R.P. Book 3) by Colfer Eoin

Author:Colfer, Eoin [Colfer, Eoin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Young Adult, Adventure, Historical, Childrens
ISBN: 9780141361109
Amazon: B00T8S1HSY
Goodreads: 25531328
Publisher: Puffin
Published: 2015-06-23T07:00:00+00:00

Drop Chute

Riley ran like Lucifer himself was on his heels, which in a very real way he was – for when the mysterious explosion lit up the night sky Riley felt his own pace suddenly increase as the explosion’s shock knocked out whatever beam of attraction the wormhole had thrown around him.

And, if I am freed, then so is Garrick.

But he could not stop to look, for there was no time to spare as, in Riley’s experience, wherever there was riotous mayhem it was either Garrick or Chevie at the nub of it. Since Garrick was to the rear, hopefully incapacitated, then it must be Chevron who was close to this latest havoc.

Not too close, Chevie. Not too close.

For it would be heartbreaking to be almost in sight of the girl and then to lose her.

Riley had a sudden horrifying thought that almost halted his gallop.

Could I bear to see Chevie’s dead form? Could I stand to feel her grow cold in my arms?

Riley increased his pace and weaved through the trees, feeling dread like an icy fist gripping his heart.

I will not allow that to happen.

So he ran on, praying to the Lord above that his feet, made careless by desperate haste, would not snag on a root. His bones would not heal like Garrick’s. If he stumbled into a rut or a sinkhole while running at this peg, his ankle would snap like kindling and he would be forced to lie in the mud till Garrick toddled over to do the job he’d been hankering after.

Lady Luck smiled on Riley for once and allowed him to dodge disaster as he ran, virtually blind, over the treacherous ground and dodged between trunks that loomed from the mist like the masts of long-abandoned ghost ships. In Riley’s mind the trees creaked and groaned as he flitted past.

Riley’s luck ran out when he earned a ducking for himself in a shallow pool and he crawled out, covered with death stink and pond scum. The chill set his teeth chattering and weighed down his clothes, which was his primary concern.

Oftentimes I’ve smelled worse and shivered more and that will pass, he thought. But tardiness could cost me everything.

On he ran towards the flaming tree till it towered above him and its flames set steam rising from his clothes. The branches burned like a penny sparkler, and the trunk was blackened but as yet uncombusted.

Riley did not have to search far for the perpetrators of the fire. The militiamen were so jolly and boisterous that they might have been toasting muffins on the heat and setting up a sing-song. And, at their feet, a wriggling sack with Chevie’s boots sticking out of the opening.

Chevie in a sack. And not for the first time.

Riley was consumed by a heady mixture of emotion. There was fear in the mix, and rage too, which might have been manageable was the brew not topped off with love.

He made a sound that was somewhere between a death rattle

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