Read Online Cloudfyre Falling - a dark fairy tale by A. L. Brooks - Free Book Online
Authors: A. L. Brooks
Tags: fantasy action adventure fiction novel epic saga, fantasy adventure mystery, fantasy about supernatural force, giants, monsters adventure, witches witchcraft, fantasy action epic battles, world apocalypse, sorcerers and magic
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out their judgement upon me? Why are they not
aflight then? Why are they screaming and racing about the earyth like mad rats?
Why are they not darkening the skies in plague
numbers?
He crouched there pondering all
this. Until he realised the squealing had fallen silent, and the
peculiar beasts were gone.
5
Biting rain hammered Gargaron most
of the morning. He sat nervous, watching the dead and dying sheep
and mules. He kept expecting the dark critters to return. To draw
him out. But he never moved from his spot.
He ached. It were the first thing
he’d known when his eyes had flickered open from sleep. Ached deep
down in his bones. He blamed first the travel of the last few days,
all the leg work, the walking. To Precipice and back, lugging wife
and daughter. And then trudging to his current location, hefting
heavy pack and great sword. Aye, it were not anything he weren’t
unaccustomed to (he were a hunter after all, walking and
shouldering heavy prey came with the job) but the stress of all he
had seen and lost, the sheer anguish of it all, had put an
exhaustion in him he could not fathom.
Then he recalled the shockwave
that had rolled over him during the night. How he had trembled and
quaked so violently in its grip.
Strange
shockwaves, and now these dark things , he
thought. What on Cloudfyre is
happening?
He were in no
rush departing. “ One who makes blind haste
runs blindly to his doom ,” his father
would say often. Never more true than
right now , Gargaron
knew.
Thus, although
those howling shapes had moved off, he sat there cautious,
patient. It be a trap , he kept reminding himself. To draw
me into the open .
So he remained there for hours at
the fringe of the woods using the Brawny Twisters as cover,
surveying the ongoing Steppe from safety of hill and
copse.
But half the
morning came and went and there were no renewed sign of these
strange dark things. Still, all the death he had witnessed since
leaving Hovel gave him cause for much suspicion. Perhaps they are out there somewhere hidden.
Hidden and waiting for me to emerge.
He wished, not
for the first time, that he knew how to wield Hor’s old hammer. He
might feel a tad more at ease if he’ had the power of such a famed
weapon at his disposal.
‘ And yet, Drenvel’s Bane or no, I
cannot stay here day and night,’ he reminded himself.
Keeping an ear open, and eyes
peeled, he packed up his camp and with greatsword in hand, made to
finally strike out for Autumn. It would be his final leg before he
reached possible salvation. He would have the eyes of his Nightface
to aid his trek. He would remain vigilant, alert, and lash out at
anything that came at him. But as he were about to depart, a sudden
snort came from somewhere behind him.
He spun about, gripping his sword
in both fists, and ducked down behind the Brawny Twister; its
writhing arms squirming about his face, shoulders and legs. He
peered between its wormy limbs and, alarmed, saw a shape in the
rain across the opposite edge of the copse.
Ha , he thought, I were wise to wait. Whatever those black demons are, they
have lost their patience and come for me now!
He remained poised where he stood,
frozen in a defensive stance, legs ajar, one planted slightly
forward of the other, thick fingers curled tight about the haft of
his sword. He were alarmed that his Nightface had not alerted him
to the beast sneaking up on him. Had it not recognised the creature
as a menace? Had it not seen it?
Whatever the case, there it stood,
the monster, tall, black, unmoving. Watching him.
6
The figure remained unmoved. As if
it waited for Gargaron to make first play.
Ha, it knows
nothing of my resolve. Indeed his father
had observed in Gargaron at an early age such resolve. When out
hunting gorse and fleim, his father had been impressed by
Gargaron’s determination, steadfastness, doggedness, tenacity. Even
as a young boy, Gargaron had possessed the ability to wait, with
the stillness of a stone,
aflight then? Why are they screaming and racing about the earyth like mad rats?
Why are they not darkening the skies in plague
numbers?
He crouched there pondering all
this. Until he realised the squealing had fallen silent, and the
peculiar beasts were gone.
5
Biting rain hammered Gargaron most
of the morning. He sat nervous, watching the dead and dying sheep
and mules. He kept expecting the dark critters to return. To draw
him out. But he never moved from his spot.
He ached. It were the first thing
he’d known when his eyes had flickered open from sleep. Ached deep
down in his bones. He blamed first the travel of the last few days,
all the leg work, the walking. To Precipice and back, lugging wife
and daughter. And then trudging to his current location, hefting
heavy pack and great sword. Aye, it were not anything he weren’t
unaccustomed to (he were a hunter after all, walking and
shouldering heavy prey came with the job) but the stress of all he
had seen and lost, the sheer anguish of it all, had put an
exhaustion in him he could not fathom.
Then he recalled the shockwave
that had rolled over him during the night. How he had trembled and
quaked so violently in its grip.
Strange
shockwaves, and now these dark things , he
thought. What on Cloudfyre is
happening?
He were in no
rush departing. “ One who makes blind haste
runs blindly to his doom ,” his father
would say often. Never more true than
right now , Gargaron
knew.
Thus, although
those howling shapes had moved off, he sat there cautious,
patient. It be a trap , he kept reminding himself. To draw
me into the open .
So he remained there for hours at
the fringe of the woods using the Brawny Twisters as cover,
surveying the ongoing Steppe from safety of hill and
copse.
But half the
morning came and went and there were no renewed sign of these
strange dark things. Still, all the death he had witnessed since
leaving Hovel gave him cause for much suspicion. Perhaps they are out there somewhere hidden.
Hidden and waiting for me to emerge.
He wished, not
for the first time, that he knew how to wield Hor’s old hammer. He
might feel a tad more at ease if he’ had the power of such a famed
weapon at his disposal.
‘ And yet, Drenvel’s Bane or no, I
cannot stay here day and night,’ he reminded himself.
Keeping an ear open, and eyes
peeled, he packed up his camp and with greatsword in hand, made to
finally strike out for Autumn. It would be his final leg before he
reached possible salvation. He would have the eyes of his Nightface
to aid his trek. He would remain vigilant, alert, and lash out at
anything that came at him. But as he were about to depart, a sudden
snort came from somewhere behind him.
He spun about, gripping his sword
in both fists, and ducked down behind the Brawny Twister; its
writhing arms squirming about his face, shoulders and legs. He
peered between its wormy limbs and, alarmed, saw a shape in the
rain across the opposite edge of the copse.
Ha , he thought, I were wise to wait. Whatever those black demons are, they
have lost their patience and come for me now!
He remained poised where he stood,
frozen in a defensive stance, legs ajar, one planted slightly
forward of the other, thick fingers curled tight about the haft of
his sword. He were alarmed that his Nightface had not alerted him
to the beast sneaking up on him. Had it not recognised the creature
as a menace? Had it not seen it?
Whatever the case, there it stood,
the monster, tall, black, unmoving. Watching him.
6
The figure remained unmoved. As if
it waited for Gargaron to make first play.
Ha, it knows
nothing of my resolve. Indeed his father
had observed in Gargaron at an early age such resolve. When out
hunting gorse and fleim, his father had been impressed by
Gargaron’s determination, steadfastness, doggedness, tenacity. Even
as a young boy, Gargaron had possessed the ability to wait, with
the stillness of a stone,
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