Read Online Heights of the Depths by Peter David - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Peter David
Ads: Link
to—at the very least—shake her loose.
Instead the bir dropped to all fours and then threw itself to its side. Clarinda barely had time to yank her leg clear, repositioning herself. Had the creature landed with its full weight upon her, she would have been permanently crippled.
Even as she shifted her position atop the bir, she never lost the solid hold of her fangs in its throat. As the blood flowed from the creature and into her, the bir became weaker while Clarinda became progressively stronger. Toward the end, as the bir writhed in her grasp, it became less and less aggressive and she knew that she had it. The danger was past and she had provided sustenance not only for herself but for her unborn child.
Suddenly, with no warning at all, something grabbed her by the back of the throat and flung her clear of the bir. She sailed across the space and slammed into a tree, rebounding from it and hitting the ground. She had enough time to get her hands and feet under her and she landed, in a crouch like a wolf preparing to spring.
“Bartolemayne,” she whispered.
That was indeed who was standing in front of her. It was Bartolemayne, the most formidable and dangerous of all the Piri. He had taken advantage of her in the same manner that she had managed to catch the bir unawares; he had approached her from downwind. And she had been so engrossed in her meal that any sounds Bartolemayne might have made as he approached on foot went completely unnoticed.
Bartolemayne was rarely seen around Subterror. He was considered the right hand of the Mistress, and because of that, he best served Sunara as a ranging spy. Bartolemayne came and went as he wished. None were more adept at hunting, fighting, or accomplishing whatever Sunara Redeye required.
Unlike most of the Piri who were wiry and lean nearly to the point of desiccation, Bartolemayne was massively built. Not on par with an Ocular, but a head taller than any other Piri and as wide as three of them. His hair was long and flowing rather than a stringy mess as was the case with most males, and his eyes burned a pale green, which was a most unusual color for a Piri and an indicator at an early age that Bartolemayne was destined for achievements far beyond those of most Piri.
That, and the fact that all his teeth were fangs. Not just tucked in neatly on either side, as was typical for Piri, but every single one. When he grinned, which was often and never good news for the individual he was grinning at, they were frightening even to a Piri.
A half dozen more normal Piri were clustering in around Bartolemayne, jumping around excitedly, their knuckles dragging on the dirt. They were whispering her name, “Clarinda, Clarinda,” dodging and moving as if she were attacking them.
The bir was lying nearby, trembling. It tried to get to its feet and fell over, still too weak to move. The Piri noticed it and looked hopefully to Bartolemayne. He gave a single nod and they sprinted toward it, covering the poor suffering creature like army ants. The bir howled as the Piri bit down wherever on its body they could, seemingly not even caring if they hit veins. They just wanted to feast.
Bartolemayne did not bother to join them. He was far too superior to the rest of them to engage in such a group meal. Instead he returned his attention to Clarinda, who was frozen in the defensive position she had assumed.
“Your mother misses you, Clarinda,” he said softly. That was how he always spoke, sometimes so quietly that it was barely above a whisper. “She misses you ever so much.”
“And that’s why she sent for you.” It was all clear to her now.
He nodded slowly. “Of course. To bring her wayward child home.”
She knew it was a waste of time to try to appeal to Bartolemayne’s sense of mercy. It was well known that he had none. But she needed to do something, just to buy herself some time. “I have no future with our people. You must know that.” She had to raise her voice
Instead the bir dropped to all fours and then threw itself to its side. Clarinda barely had time to yank her leg clear, repositioning herself. Had the creature landed with its full weight upon her, she would have been permanently crippled.
Even as she shifted her position atop the bir, she never lost the solid hold of her fangs in its throat. As the blood flowed from the creature and into her, the bir became weaker while Clarinda became progressively stronger. Toward the end, as the bir writhed in her grasp, it became less and less aggressive and she knew that she had it. The danger was past and she had provided sustenance not only for herself but for her unborn child.
Suddenly, with no warning at all, something grabbed her by the back of the throat and flung her clear of the bir. She sailed across the space and slammed into a tree, rebounding from it and hitting the ground. She had enough time to get her hands and feet under her and she landed, in a crouch like a wolf preparing to spring.
“Bartolemayne,” she whispered.
That was indeed who was standing in front of her. It was Bartolemayne, the most formidable and dangerous of all the Piri. He had taken advantage of her in the same manner that she had managed to catch the bir unawares; he had approached her from downwind. And she had been so engrossed in her meal that any sounds Bartolemayne might have made as he approached on foot went completely unnoticed.
Bartolemayne was rarely seen around Subterror. He was considered the right hand of the Mistress, and because of that, he best served Sunara as a ranging spy. Bartolemayne came and went as he wished. None were more adept at hunting, fighting, or accomplishing whatever Sunara Redeye required.
Unlike most of the Piri who were wiry and lean nearly to the point of desiccation, Bartolemayne was massively built. Not on par with an Ocular, but a head taller than any other Piri and as wide as three of them. His hair was long and flowing rather than a stringy mess as was the case with most males, and his eyes burned a pale green, which was a most unusual color for a Piri and an indicator at an early age that Bartolemayne was destined for achievements far beyond those of most Piri.
That, and the fact that all his teeth were fangs. Not just tucked in neatly on either side, as was typical for Piri, but every single one. When he grinned, which was often and never good news for the individual he was grinning at, they were frightening even to a Piri.
A half dozen more normal Piri were clustering in around Bartolemayne, jumping around excitedly, their knuckles dragging on the dirt. They were whispering her name, “Clarinda, Clarinda,” dodging and moving as if she were attacking them.
The bir was lying nearby, trembling. It tried to get to its feet and fell over, still too weak to move. The Piri noticed it and looked hopefully to Bartolemayne. He gave a single nod and they sprinted toward it, covering the poor suffering creature like army ants. The bir howled as the Piri bit down wherever on its body they could, seemingly not even caring if they hit veins. They just wanted to feast.
Bartolemayne did not bother to join them. He was far too superior to the rest of them to engage in such a group meal. Instead he returned his attention to Clarinda, who was frozen in the defensive position she had assumed.
“Your mother misses you, Clarinda,” he said softly. That was how he always spoke, sometimes so quietly that it was barely above a whisper. “She misses you ever so much.”
“And that’s why she sent for you.” It was all clear to her now.
He nodded slowly. “Of course. To bring her wayward child home.”
She knew it was a waste of time to try to appeal to Bartolemayne’s sense of mercy. It was well known that he had none. But she needed to do something, just to buy herself some time. “I have no future with our people. You must know that.” She had to raise her voice
Similar Books
