The Sword Defiant by Hanrahan Gareth

Author:Hanrahan, Gareth
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780356516523
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

An embankment of packed earth lifted the road above the black mud of the Charnel marshes. This part of the road was smooth enough, which was a mercy to Alf. Healing potions could only do so much, and every jolt of the wagon sent a fresh shock of pain through his spine. It did not help that he had to share the wagon with Abbess Marit. Every time the wagon jolted, Alf cursed, and every time he cursed the Abbess gave him a dirty look and began another round of prayers.

By the third milestone, Alf had run out of curses, and had to start inventing new ones. By the fourth, he tired of the game and stared out at the undulating wastes. The guards moved warily, long spears ready to skewer any lurking undead. By nightfall, even at the wagon’s laggard pace, they would be clear of the Charnel and into the New Provinces proper.

In the distance, the outermost of the sentinel dragon-statues loomed above the marsh, curving northward like the claw of some buried beast. The remains of the League’s encampment on the northern flank were out there somewhere, lost in the mud. The sentinel statues were potent magical weapons. Once, the marshes trembled as the dragons spat bolts of magical energy, keeping the besiegers from pressing their attack on the city. Now, all was silent. The stone dragons had died with Lord Bone.

If those dragons woke, Necrad would again be invulnerable. He wondered if Blaise, with all his arcane mutterings and forbidden lore, could reactivate the defences. Blaise had to have thought of it. Blaise thought of everything.

The Abbess followed his gaze across the marsh. “Put your faith in the Intercessors,” she advised, “not the works of evil.”

“Those aren’t Bone’s work. Witch Elves built ’em.” Alf pulled the furs closer around him; if he had to sit in this cursed wagon and watch the world roll slowly by, at least he could be comfortable.

“It should all be torn down. It is a well of sin and corruption. In Summerswell, in certain circles, it is considered fashionable to have treasures out of Necrad in one’s home. They covet the vile things made by sorcery. Such greed leads down a perilous road to mortal sin.”

Alf grunted. His own vile thing– the sword Spellbreaker – was in a metal casket under his seat.

“There are places, Sir Aelfric, secret gatherings where sinners mimic the ways of the Witch Elves. They dress as the demons you so rightly defeated, and engage in unspeakable depravities.” Merit tapped his knee with a bony finger. “Alas that none of the Nine have the courage to speak out against such sin. Ye who confronted the evil one in his own fortress, you turn a blind eye to corruption at home. Alas that it was Peir who died – was he the only one among you who had faith?”

“You didn’t know Peir,” said Alf, “and you shouldn’t speak of what you don’t know.” Peir’s faith had run deep, but it was in people, in the Nine and their common cause, not in spirits and Intercessors.

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.