Read Online Fury of the Seventh Son (Book 13) by Joseph Delaney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joseph Delaney
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even half the ability of Mab Mouldheel would see that I was on their trail. Then again, there were many nonmagical means of protecting themselves against pursuit.
Once the witches knew that they were being followed, they might wait in ambush. A couple of them would peel off to the side and make their way back toward me. It would be impossible to tell that this had happened until it was too late.
Thatâs exactly what they did.
But there were more than two.
Five witches lay in wait for me.
The rain had stopped, and the clouds were in shreds. The sun had dropped below the horizon; soon the light would begin to fail.
I was now moving at a slow jog. Before long I would have to stop and snatch a few hours of sleep. As I moved into a forest, I immediately sensed that something was wrong. It was too quiet. The birds should not have been roosting yet. Seconds earlier, the countryside had been filled with song. Now, in the deeper gloom beneath the branches, all was silent.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone running toward me from behind and to my left. Without breaking stride, I swung hard, widdershins, with the base of my staff. There was a dull thud, and the satisfying feel of contact with a skull. My attacker went down, and I ran on.
However, Iâd made a mistake, and I knew it. I heard the voice of Grimalkin in my head; a fierce rebuke filled with scorn. Fool! Fool! that imaginary voice cried. That one will get up and attack again. You are greatly outnumbered. Kill or be killed!
That was what she would have said. Now I had one enemy behind me as well as many ahead. So I pressed the button on my staff to release its blade. Next time I would show no mercy.
Suddenly a long-haired witch burst out of a group of saplings close by. She attacked, shrieking like a banshee, scattering dead leaves with her pointy shoes. She wielded a blade strapped to a pole, and I saw that her lips were flecked with foam. She looked demented, insane with hatred and anger. I barely had time to lift my staff, but somehow I parried her blade and then flicked it upward so that it arced away from her.
She ran to retrieve her weapon, but I came round in a circle and attacked quickly, thrusting the blade of my staff under her ribs and into her heart. She screamed and fell, and I ran on. I needed to get out of the trees so as to see other attackers earlier.
When I emerged from the forest, three more witches were waiting. They were Pendle witches; their brown garb, long skirts, and leather jerkins marked them out as Deanes. They waited in a line, their eyes watchful, confidently wielding their long blades. They looked much more formidable than the previous two.
âYouâre a fool to follow us, boy!â the tallest one jeered.
All three began to cackle.
âIâll drink his blood!â one cried.
âIâll take his thumbs!â shrieked another.
The third one drew her finger across her neck. âIâll cut off his head,â she said softly, her voice hardly more than a whisper. âThat will please our master!â
I thrust my staff, blade first, deep into the soft ground, and drew the sword and a daggerâthe Bone Cutter. They were more flexible weapons.
The ruby eyes in the skelt hilt of the sword seemed to glow in the gloom under the trees. Then both eyes began to drip blood. The sword was hungry.
A second later the dagger also began to bleed.
I concentrated, waiting for them to make a move.
Let them come to me. . . .
They did. All three attacked at once.
CHAPTER X
T HE P URSUIT
T HE battle was fast and furious, and I had no time to think. All I could do was react as they pressed home their attack. More by luck than skill, I managed to kill two of them: a slash with my sword against a neck, an upward thrust with the dagger, and it was done.
The third witch ran back into the wood.
I followed. She was fast, and by the time we came out of the trees again, I hadnât managed to close
Once the witches knew that they were being followed, they might wait in ambush. A couple of them would peel off to the side and make their way back toward me. It would be impossible to tell that this had happened until it was too late.
Thatâs exactly what they did.
But there were more than two.
Five witches lay in wait for me.
The rain had stopped, and the clouds were in shreds. The sun had dropped below the horizon; soon the light would begin to fail.
I was now moving at a slow jog. Before long I would have to stop and snatch a few hours of sleep. As I moved into a forest, I immediately sensed that something was wrong. It was too quiet. The birds should not have been roosting yet. Seconds earlier, the countryside had been filled with song. Now, in the deeper gloom beneath the branches, all was silent.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone running toward me from behind and to my left. Without breaking stride, I swung hard, widdershins, with the base of my staff. There was a dull thud, and the satisfying feel of contact with a skull. My attacker went down, and I ran on.
However, Iâd made a mistake, and I knew it. I heard the voice of Grimalkin in my head; a fierce rebuke filled with scorn. Fool! Fool! that imaginary voice cried. That one will get up and attack again. You are greatly outnumbered. Kill or be killed!
That was what she would have said. Now I had one enemy behind me as well as many ahead. So I pressed the button on my staff to release its blade. Next time I would show no mercy.
Suddenly a long-haired witch burst out of a group of saplings close by. She attacked, shrieking like a banshee, scattering dead leaves with her pointy shoes. She wielded a blade strapped to a pole, and I saw that her lips were flecked with foam. She looked demented, insane with hatred and anger. I barely had time to lift my staff, but somehow I parried her blade and then flicked it upward so that it arced away from her.
She ran to retrieve her weapon, but I came round in a circle and attacked quickly, thrusting the blade of my staff under her ribs and into her heart. She screamed and fell, and I ran on. I needed to get out of the trees so as to see other attackers earlier.
When I emerged from the forest, three more witches were waiting. They were Pendle witches; their brown garb, long skirts, and leather jerkins marked them out as Deanes. They waited in a line, their eyes watchful, confidently wielding their long blades. They looked much more formidable than the previous two.
âYouâre a fool to follow us, boy!â the tallest one jeered.
All three began to cackle.
âIâll drink his blood!â one cried.
âIâll take his thumbs!â shrieked another.
The third one drew her finger across her neck. âIâll cut off his head,â she said softly, her voice hardly more than a whisper. âThat will please our master!â
I thrust my staff, blade first, deep into the soft ground, and drew the sword and a daggerâthe Bone Cutter. They were more flexible weapons.
The ruby eyes in the skelt hilt of the sword seemed to glow in the gloom under the trees. Then both eyes began to drip blood. The sword was hungry.
A second later the dagger also began to bleed.
I concentrated, waiting for them to make a move.
Let them come to me. . . .
They did. All three attacked at once.
CHAPTER X
T HE P URSUIT
T HE battle was fast and furious, and I had no time to think. All I could do was react as they pressed home their attack. More by luck than skill, I managed to kill two of them: a slash with my sword against a neck, an upward thrust with the dagger, and it was done.
The third witch ran back into the wood.
I followed. She was fast, and by the time we came out of the trees again, I hadnât managed to close
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