Read Online A Skillful Warrior (SoulNecklace Stories Book 2) by R.L. Stedman - Free Book Online
Authors: R.L. Stedman
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of an old man. In the dreamlight it looked like a tower of gold.
I heard a cough and a harsh voice, speaking strange words. Behind the tree, more men on horseback regarded the army’s destruction. Unlike the rearguard, they appeared calm, almost oblivious to the death about them. One of the riders lifted his hand, brushed the mane of his horse. The man’s hand! My heart paused. Those fingernails! Long and curved and tipped with bronze, they seemed more like talons, or knives than the tips of a man’s hand. These nails meant one thing - a magician.
A magician could see me in my dream state. Any second now, they’d look up and I would have no chance. N’tombe and Rinpoche together had barely managed to survive one of these men. What chance had I against five?
The air above the men shimmered with gold as far to the west the setting sun reached the sea. But the magicians seemed indifferent to the world’s glory, uninterested in the doomed men. Above, the golden sunlight seemed to thicken, moving like a snare or a rope. Or a many limbed snake.
Intent in their own plots, the magicians didn’t seem to notice the cords of woven light. What had N’tombe said? I go to weave a net. It fell about them, pulled tight. The web of light lifted men and magicians from their horses. It was like watching fish, struggling against the mesh.
Screaming, the soldiers tumbled into each other, their elbows and knees catching each other in the face. The magic workers, though, were calm. One of them thrust a nail tip against a strand, muttered something. They could see the threads! A flare of red fire, the cord broke.
The net, heavy with struggling men, began to rock as if pushed by an invisible hand. At first the movement was tiny, mere judderings, but it built momentum quickly, swaying from side to side until the bundle of men swung across the cliff-edge, over the empty space.
Seeing this, even the magicians began to panic. Howling their impatience, they clawed and struck at each other, at the other soldiers. Blood dripped from their faces, where they’d stabbed each other with their knife-like nails. They looked more like wild beasts than men.
Too slow. The net burst wide, showering the men with sparks. They dropped, down into the abyss. Out they tumbled, soldiers and soothsayers both. All fell.
One of the magicians looped a cord of light towards the cliff edge, and stayed his fall, but I fashioned a knife of gold from the forest’s light, and cut it in two. I might feel a little sorrow for the soldiers, but I had no pity for these magic workers. They would have destroyed me, if they could. As Will had said; you can’t feel sorrow all the time.
So many men, so quickly destroyed.
I nearly didn’t see the thin trail along the clifftop. At first it looked like the sort of track that goats or sheep, might make. Except goats or sheep don’t wear shoes — and in the soft mud were the imprints of horses. Will and Jed must have come this way!
With the fall of the army, our journey would be safer. I would find N’tombe, and she would waken, and together we would go in search of Will and Jed. And then we would look for this weapon, wherever it was. But first, we would have to pass the broken remains of the army. There would be flies, and bits of bodies, and a terrible smell. Which would be disgusting. Still, better than the alternative of being taken captive or killed. I turned back towards the cave.
I stumbled over the man by accident. Half-hidden under a cairn of rock, he lay beside a damp, mossy wall. The golden light of the forest arched all about him, but where the man lay all was dark.
There was something compelling about this man. In the shimmer of golden light, it was hard to see his face, hidden as it was beneath the stone’s shadow. One of the army, he had the same slim beard and long moustaches, the brown-yellow skin. Who was he? A long, half-healed cut, a knife slash from forehead to jaw, puckered his skin and twisted
I heard a cough and a harsh voice, speaking strange words. Behind the tree, more men on horseback regarded the army’s destruction. Unlike the rearguard, they appeared calm, almost oblivious to the death about them. One of the riders lifted his hand, brushed the mane of his horse. The man’s hand! My heart paused. Those fingernails! Long and curved and tipped with bronze, they seemed more like talons, or knives than the tips of a man’s hand. These nails meant one thing - a magician.
A magician could see me in my dream state. Any second now, they’d look up and I would have no chance. N’tombe and Rinpoche together had barely managed to survive one of these men. What chance had I against five?
The air above the men shimmered with gold as far to the west the setting sun reached the sea. But the magicians seemed indifferent to the world’s glory, uninterested in the doomed men. Above, the golden sunlight seemed to thicken, moving like a snare or a rope. Or a many limbed snake.
Intent in their own plots, the magicians didn’t seem to notice the cords of woven light. What had N’tombe said? I go to weave a net. It fell about them, pulled tight. The web of light lifted men and magicians from their horses. It was like watching fish, struggling against the mesh.
Screaming, the soldiers tumbled into each other, their elbows and knees catching each other in the face. The magic workers, though, were calm. One of them thrust a nail tip against a strand, muttered something. They could see the threads! A flare of red fire, the cord broke.
The net, heavy with struggling men, began to rock as if pushed by an invisible hand. At first the movement was tiny, mere judderings, but it built momentum quickly, swaying from side to side until the bundle of men swung across the cliff-edge, over the empty space.
Seeing this, even the magicians began to panic. Howling their impatience, they clawed and struck at each other, at the other soldiers. Blood dripped from their faces, where they’d stabbed each other with their knife-like nails. They looked more like wild beasts than men.
Too slow. The net burst wide, showering the men with sparks. They dropped, down into the abyss. Out they tumbled, soldiers and soothsayers both. All fell.
One of the magicians looped a cord of light towards the cliff edge, and stayed his fall, but I fashioned a knife of gold from the forest’s light, and cut it in two. I might feel a little sorrow for the soldiers, but I had no pity for these magic workers. They would have destroyed me, if they could. As Will had said; you can’t feel sorrow all the time.
So many men, so quickly destroyed.
I nearly didn’t see the thin trail along the clifftop. At first it looked like the sort of track that goats or sheep, might make. Except goats or sheep don’t wear shoes — and in the soft mud were the imprints of horses. Will and Jed must have come this way!
With the fall of the army, our journey would be safer. I would find N’tombe, and she would waken, and together we would go in search of Will and Jed. And then we would look for this weapon, wherever it was. But first, we would have to pass the broken remains of the army. There would be flies, and bits of bodies, and a terrible smell. Which would be disgusting. Still, better than the alternative of being taken captive or killed. I turned back towards the cave.
I stumbled over the man by accident. Half-hidden under a cairn of rock, he lay beside a damp, mossy wall. The golden light of the forest arched all about him, but where the man lay all was dark.
There was something compelling about this man. In the shimmer of golden light, it was hard to see his face, hidden as it was beneath the stone’s shadow. One of the army, he had the same slim beard and long moustaches, the brown-yellow skin. Who was he? A long, half-healed cut, a knife slash from forehead to jaw, puckered his skin and twisted
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