Read Online Dreams of Fire and Gods 2: Fire by James Erich - Free Book Online
Authors: James Erich
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Love & Romance
Ads: Link
replied, “I had hoped to learn more about this mysterious barrier or… whatever is preventing your men from entering the valley.”
Eivan stood abruptly, causing his guards to snap to attention. “Then come along. I will show you myself. Then you, my friend, will leave my camp.”
While a flustered Father Gednon was escorted to a tent where he could reside and set up a field temple for the soldiers, one of Eivan’s men gathering up the priest’s belongings, Eivan led Donegh out of the tent and into the forest.
Donegh was surprised none of the soldiers went with them. It was just he and the Commander, and it wasn’t long before the camp was out of sight. Donegh could still hear the sounds of voices and hammering and laughter and the other noises made by a large body of soldiers in camp, but all around him and Eivan was nothing but trees and brush.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll assassinate you when we’re away from the camp?” Donegh was unable to refrain from asking at last, his voice dripping with contempt.
“You?” Eivan scoffed. “You’re still a boy. The day I can’t defend myself against a single opponent without crying out for aid is the day I retire my commission.”
Donegh was tempted to test his skills at unarmed combat right then and there. The commander was at least a head taller than he was and far more muscular, but Donegh was skilled in taking down opponents without allowing them to land a single blow. He could conceivably have Eivan on the ground with a dagger at his throat before the man had a chance to react.
It was only his Sight that allowed him to see Eivan’s sudden movement as the man lunged for Donegh’s forearm. Donegh dropped to the ground and rolled away, but the Commander leapt over him and caught him as he was rolling back to his feet. Eivan grasped his tunic in a powerful grip and yanked him off balance. Donegh twisted around and grabbed both the man’s forearms, redirecting the momentum of Eivan’s attack so the Commander was lifted off his feet.
Both of them crashed to the forest floor, sending a spray of dead leaves into the air. Donegh held onto Eivan’s sinewy forearms as he rolled over on top of the man. But Eivan kicked upward violently and launched the small assassin through the air. Donegh landed in dead leaves and brush.
He rolled back onto his feet, drawing his knife from his belt as he did so, and crouched on a bed of partridgeberry, braced for another attack.
But the attack didn’t come. Instead Eivan climbed to his feet and laughed aloud. “Good! But you should never have let me grab you to begin with.”
There was something wrong with Donegh’s head. He felt oddly dizzy and disorientated, and there was a strange dark, hollow feeling, as if a hole had been cut in his brain. It didn’t hurt, really. But it was disturbing and a little frightening.
He fought against the feeling, forcing himself to focus on the enemy at hand. “Is that what this is?” he asked, attempting a contemptuous sneer. “A test?”
“An amusement,” the Commander said, brushing dirt and dead leaves off his tunic. “I meant to throw you into it.”
“Into what?”
“The boundary. I was planning on tossing you across the line to see if you would fall unconscious, as my men have.”
“And what would that have accomplished?”
“Not much, I admit,” Eivan replied with a cold smile, “but if you remained conscious, it would have given us some additional information regarding the nature of the magic at work. And if you’d fallen unconscious, then I would have had the pleasure of leaving your vile carcass there to rot, or perhaps be devoured by wolves.”
Donegh stood—a bit shakily—and glared at the commander, his knife clutched tightly in his hand. The temptation to rush Eivan and drive the blade deep into the man’s throat was strong, but Eivan had a strength advantage in a direct confrontation, and Donegh still felt unsteady. “I simply wanted you to show me a
Eivan stood abruptly, causing his guards to snap to attention. “Then come along. I will show you myself. Then you, my friend, will leave my camp.”
While a flustered Father Gednon was escorted to a tent where he could reside and set up a field temple for the soldiers, one of Eivan’s men gathering up the priest’s belongings, Eivan led Donegh out of the tent and into the forest.
Donegh was surprised none of the soldiers went with them. It was just he and the Commander, and it wasn’t long before the camp was out of sight. Donegh could still hear the sounds of voices and hammering and laughter and the other noises made by a large body of soldiers in camp, but all around him and Eivan was nothing but trees and brush.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll assassinate you when we’re away from the camp?” Donegh was unable to refrain from asking at last, his voice dripping with contempt.
“You?” Eivan scoffed. “You’re still a boy. The day I can’t defend myself against a single opponent without crying out for aid is the day I retire my commission.”
Donegh was tempted to test his skills at unarmed combat right then and there. The commander was at least a head taller than he was and far more muscular, but Donegh was skilled in taking down opponents without allowing them to land a single blow. He could conceivably have Eivan on the ground with a dagger at his throat before the man had a chance to react.
It was only his Sight that allowed him to see Eivan’s sudden movement as the man lunged for Donegh’s forearm. Donegh dropped to the ground and rolled away, but the Commander leapt over him and caught him as he was rolling back to his feet. Eivan grasped his tunic in a powerful grip and yanked him off balance. Donegh twisted around and grabbed both the man’s forearms, redirecting the momentum of Eivan’s attack so the Commander was lifted off his feet.
Both of them crashed to the forest floor, sending a spray of dead leaves into the air. Donegh held onto Eivan’s sinewy forearms as he rolled over on top of the man. But Eivan kicked upward violently and launched the small assassin through the air. Donegh landed in dead leaves and brush.
He rolled back onto his feet, drawing his knife from his belt as he did so, and crouched on a bed of partridgeberry, braced for another attack.
But the attack didn’t come. Instead Eivan climbed to his feet and laughed aloud. “Good! But you should never have let me grab you to begin with.”
There was something wrong with Donegh’s head. He felt oddly dizzy and disorientated, and there was a strange dark, hollow feeling, as if a hole had been cut in his brain. It didn’t hurt, really. But it was disturbing and a little frightening.
He fought against the feeling, forcing himself to focus on the enemy at hand. “Is that what this is?” he asked, attempting a contemptuous sneer. “A test?”
“An amusement,” the Commander said, brushing dirt and dead leaves off his tunic. “I meant to throw you into it.”
“Into what?”
“The boundary. I was planning on tossing you across the line to see if you would fall unconscious, as my men have.”
“And what would that have accomplished?”
“Not much, I admit,” Eivan replied with a cold smile, “but if you remained conscious, it would have given us some additional information regarding the nature of the magic at work. And if you’d fallen unconscious, then I would have had the pleasure of leaving your vile carcass there to rot, or perhaps be devoured by wolves.”
Donegh stood—a bit shakily—and glared at the commander, his knife clutched tightly in his hand. The temptation to rush Eivan and drive the blade deep into the man’s throat was strong, but Eivan had a strength advantage in a direct confrontation, and Donegh still felt unsteady. “I simply wanted you to show me a
Similar Books
