Read Online Fate Defied: The Silent Tempest, Book 3 by E. J. Godwin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: E. J. Godwin
Tags: General Fiction
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could not accept that his life had ended so quickly, so needlessly. Long minutes passed as she crouched in the bitter wind, Ada suddenly a land of desolation, all its magnificence and beauty gone. She longed for a companion—anyone—to rescue her from the vast, oppressive loneliness.
But there was no one, and if she was to survive, she needed to act soon. The struggle in the snow and the lack of air had drenched her body with sweat, and she shuddered with the first stages of hypothermia.
Telai forced herself up, tottering in the gale. It was vital that she find her team, or at least her sled, by nightfall. She dug in the area from which she had emerged, lowering her head into each hole in an attempt to hear whines or faint movements. The sun crept toward the high western wall of Crooked Pass, and the short winter day began to decline. Everything she needed was on that sled: food, clothing, even a small supply of firewood for an emergency. But her laser lay buried beneath a hill of snow.
At last her persistence revealed a narrow leather strap looping above the surface. She pulled and dug, dug and pulled, and out came the snow-plastered head of a dog. With a few yelps and whines he struggled free; his efforts helped the others wriggle out, and one by one they all emerged, freezing cold and none too healthy, but alive.
The sled was another matter. The combined strength of Telai and the dogs, all weakened, could not free it from the packed snow, forcing her to cut the harnesses. In the meantime the day was waning fast, and she feared none of them would survive the bitter night.
But the effort returned some warmth to her body, and the dogs, loyal and well trained, never left her. They sat close, screening her a little, licking and biting the snow and ice from their fur and between their toes. Telai inspected them all. For the most part she found only welts and scrapes from their tumble with the sled; yet one dog limped heavily, and growled and nipped at her when she pressed against his haunch. As the sun turned the snow a pink pastel the animals settled down, indifferent to the catastrophe they had survived, and dug their usual burrows for the long night ahead.
All except Slink, that is, her team’s leader. He sat alert, ears erect, sniffing the air. Perhaps he had scented more Hodyn, but nothing she saw held any threat.
Though the wind had dropped, it still whistled about her in brief, swirling gusts. She trudged wearily to the half-buried sled to rig some sort of shelter, but the persistent Slink distracted her. Still alert and restless, he whined anxiously, attention fixed upon the darkening slope.
Telai scanned the bitter landscape. Her eyes saw nothing, ears heard nothing beyond the cry of the wind.
In an instant her heart was leaping. “Slink! Find, find!”
With a gruff bark the dog sprang forward. She leaped for the sled, wrested the spade free of its bindings, and followed him up the slope. It was difficult to keep up with Slink, who was already far ahead, roaming back and forth with his nose to the surface. Dared she hope?
Inch by inch the dog homed in on the source. Telai caught up, desperate to help, yet could only stand and wait in mounting frustration. The sun had fallen well beneath the high cliffs by now, the sky was darkening, and she feared night would fall before she could find Tenlar.
Slink gave out a bark. Telai fell beside him and started digging, careful not to plunge the spade too deeply, hoping with all her might that Tenlar was still alive.
To keep the hole from collapsing she was forced to angle it down the slope, forming a trench. Each layer was packed harder than the last, and her arms grew weaker by the minute. Suddenly the snow erupted beneath her. She fell back, startled. A body struggled free. Slink backed off, panting clouds of moisture into the air, while Telai cried out and reached down to help her comrade from the snow.
It was not Tenlar. It was Beggar, his lead dog, the one
But there was no one, and if she was to survive, she needed to act soon. The struggle in the snow and the lack of air had drenched her body with sweat, and she shuddered with the first stages of hypothermia.
Telai forced herself up, tottering in the gale. It was vital that she find her team, or at least her sled, by nightfall. She dug in the area from which she had emerged, lowering her head into each hole in an attempt to hear whines or faint movements. The sun crept toward the high western wall of Crooked Pass, and the short winter day began to decline. Everything she needed was on that sled: food, clothing, even a small supply of firewood for an emergency. But her laser lay buried beneath a hill of snow.
At last her persistence revealed a narrow leather strap looping above the surface. She pulled and dug, dug and pulled, and out came the snow-plastered head of a dog. With a few yelps and whines he struggled free; his efforts helped the others wriggle out, and one by one they all emerged, freezing cold and none too healthy, but alive.
The sled was another matter. The combined strength of Telai and the dogs, all weakened, could not free it from the packed snow, forcing her to cut the harnesses. In the meantime the day was waning fast, and she feared none of them would survive the bitter night.
But the effort returned some warmth to her body, and the dogs, loyal and well trained, never left her. They sat close, screening her a little, licking and biting the snow and ice from their fur and between their toes. Telai inspected them all. For the most part she found only welts and scrapes from their tumble with the sled; yet one dog limped heavily, and growled and nipped at her when she pressed against his haunch. As the sun turned the snow a pink pastel the animals settled down, indifferent to the catastrophe they had survived, and dug their usual burrows for the long night ahead.
All except Slink, that is, her team’s leader. He sat alert, ears erect, sniffing the air. Perhaps he had scented more Hodyn, but nothing she saw held any threat.
Though the wind had dropped, it still whistled about her in brief, swirling gusts. She trudged wearily to the half-buried sled to rig some sort of shelter, but the persistent Slink distracted her. Still alert and restless, he whined anxiously, attention fixed upon the darkening slope.
Telai scanned the bitter landscape. Her eyes saw nothing, ears heard nothing beyond the cry of the wind.
In an instant her heart was leaping. “Slink! Find, find!”
With a gruff bark the dog sprang forward. She leaped for the sled, wrested the spade free of its bindings, and followed him up the slope. It was difficult to keep up with Slink, who was already far ahead, roaming back and forth with his nose to the surface. Dared she hope?
Inch by inch the dog homed in on the source. Telai caught up, desperate to help, yet could only stand and wait in mounting frustration. The sun had fallen well beneath the high cliffs by now, the sky was darkening, and she feared night would fall before she could find Tenlar.
Slink gave out a bark. Telai fell beside him and started digging, careful not to plunge the spade too deeply, hoping with all her might that Tenlar was still alive.
To keep the hole from collapsing she was forced to angle it down the slope, forming a trench. Each layer was packed harder than the last, and her arms grew weaker by the minute. Suddenly the snow erupted beneath her. She fell back, startled. A body struggled free. Slink backed off, panting clouds of moisture into the air, while Telai cried out and reached down to help her comrade from the snow.
It was not Tenlar. It was Beggar, his lead dog, the one
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