Wayfarer Redemption #02 - Pilgrim by Sara Douglass

Author:Sara Douglass [Douglass, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Epic, Fiction, General, Music, Genres & Styles, Pop Vocal
ISBN: 9780730491989
Google: FVIWnEMyifgC
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2010-10-01T05:11:47+00:00

He should never have let her ride to the hunt. He should never have given her the horse that killed her. He should never have let her near a horse, for the gods' sakes, when she was five months gone with their child.

Now she was dead, crushed beneath the horse that failed a single stone fence.

Their child, never given the chance of life, was dead.

As was the woman before him, and the child she carried.

Both dead, or as good as.

From the stake in the heart of the chamber snaked a chain that almost — but not quite — extended as far as the surrounding circular walls.

At the end of that chain was bolted a woman. Naked. Smeared with filth, for she would allow none near to clean her.

And savage. She snarled and spat at Zared, her eyes clouded with insanity and demonic rage. Her fingernails had been torn free in her desperate attempt to claw across the floor to reach him.

Blood smeared the tiles and her pale skin.

Zared's eyes flitted down to the faint swelling of her belly. Her body lived, but Leagh was dead to him.

As was the child.

Zared's eyes filled with tears. It was his fault. He should never have let her ride with Askam. He should never have trusted Askam!

Leagh — or what had once been her — snarled and jerked at the chain that had been bolted to her left ankle. She spat, trying every way her mad mind knew to reach him ... to hurt him.

Her only purpose in life now was to destroy the man who sat weeping on the chair just out of her reach.

"I love you," he said.

380*

40

The Sea Worms had decimated the twenty-strong fleet. Most of the ships had been attacked and crippled or sunk in the initial attack, and in the cold late afternoon air, as the survivors huddled on the gritty beach, the Worms attacked the remaining floating vessels from the safety of the bay's depths. In one moment a ship floated peacefully, the next it would rock violently as teeth sunk into its keel, ripping away timbers and exposing the belly of the ship to the invading icy waters.

Theod, as all those who survived the sinking of their ships, had swum to shore with only bare minutes to spare before the onset of the mid-afternoon despair. They'd frantically dug themselves holes in the loose shale of the beach with limbs shaking with cold and exhaustion and fear, burying themselves even as the grey corruption rolled over the mountains.

Many had not covered themselves in time, and they and the horses which had managed to escape the holds of the sinking ships, had succumbed to the madness.

Now the horses floated in the water, useless hulks of skin, flesh and bone. Maddened, they had forgotten to swim, and had died drowning in despair.

The men, either those in the water or those who'd found the beach, but not the safety of shelter, had scuttled away into the first gullies of the Murkle

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