Read Online Heirs of the Fallen: Book 02 - Crown of the Setting Sun by James A. West - Free Book Online
Book: Heirs of the Fallen: Book 02 - Crown of the Setting Sun by James A. West
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Authors: James A. West
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face from many cuts, and his skull felt cracked. He stumbled and collapsed.
“That, boy, was for speaking out of turn. This,” he said, kicking Leitos in the ribs hard enough to flip him onto his back, “is to make sure that you learned the first lesson.”
Leitos retched, but felt detached from his agonies and the situation. All thoughts of planning an escape had soared away. He had to act,
now
.
Groaning, he rolled to his belly. When he could see straight, he dared not look at his assailant, but rather focused on his fists sunk into the mud under his nose. Blood dribbled from his ruined lips in fat crimson drops onto the backs of his hands, staining his skin and mingling with the stinking mud. Below that, the fingers of one hand secretly clenched a river stone.
“Had enough … or do you need another lesson?”
Fury exploded within Leitos’s breast, threatening to drive back all his caution and sense. But if he gave in and attacked the Hunter outright, he would gain nothing, and more than likely lose any future chance at escape. Retaliate or bide his time? It was a difficult choice, left him grinding his teeth in frustration.
Over long moments, a sense of dark calm invaded his senses. He had made his decision, for good or ill. He began crawling away, first on his belly, then on his hands and knees, and then he was up, wobbling along on unsteady feet.
“Where are you going, boy?” the Hunter asked in derision. He made no attempt to follow, and Leitos judged that the man’s self-assurance was too great by far.
Grow strong and cruel
, Adham’s voice intoned, swirling like a sweet poison through Leitos’s veins. He kept walking, fueling his strength of will with an image of his grandfather standing tall against the
Alon’mahk’lar
.
“There is nowhere to go, boy,” the Hunter said, now sounding more irritated than mocking.
Leitos did not respond, just placed one foot in front of the other.
A little farther
. Dripping mud concealed the stone held in his fist, just in case.
He crossed the rising riverbank and scrambled up and over a sandy berm cut by the river when it flowed even higher than it did now. At his back, the Hunter had finally begun to drift after him.
Just a little farther.
To the fore, the desert stretched out, all sand, rock, and low-growing scrub made pungent by the rain. The only difference between when he had fled the mines and now was the storm had wetted the land, and clouds blotted the harsh sunlight. That last would soon end, for the storm had relented as it pushed farther north. Some many leagues south, dark clouds, having spent their wrath, were parting, showing patches of blue. Leitos trained his eyes on the west, and stumbled into a trot.
“BOY!”
The Hunter bellowed.
With a fleeting wish that he had never encountered the Hunter, that he had been able to remain on his little island where there was food, water, and safety in isolation, he stepped up his pace.
A moment later, he was running. His legs, stiff and shaky at first, soon found their rhythm; the muscles loosened, his stride lengthened. Hard breathing forced the last of the river water from his lungs, and he spat out the silty residue. The throbbing bruises from the Hunter’s blows faded. A single shout, incoherent for the rage it held, chased after him. Leitos did not heed it.
Let him catch me!
He laughed aloud, knowing a man so huge could not.
The sound of pounding feet, closing fast, evaporated his mirth.
Disbelieving, Leitos looked around. The big man was coming at a clip made all the more terrifying for its impossible speed. The Hunter’s hood still covered his face, but his motley garb streamed out behind him like the shredded wings of a bat.
Leitos bowed his head and ran faster. Where a rock or patch of prickly scrub presented itself as a barrier, he leaped over it. On the flat, his feet splashed through puddles, or dug into mud.
The Hunter matched his speed … then began closing the distance.
Leitos
“That, boy, was for speaking out of turn. This,” he said, kicking Leitos in the ribs hard enough to flip him onto his back, “is to make sure that you learned the first lesson.”
Leitos retched, but felt detached from his agonies and the situation. All thoughts of planning an escape had soared away. He had to act,
now
.
Groaning, he rolled to his belly. When he could see straight, he dared not look at his assailant, but rather focused on his fists sunk into the mud under his nose. Blood dribbled from his ruined lips in fat crimson drops onto the backs of his hands, staining his skin and mingling with the stinking mud. Below that, the fingers of one hand secretly clenched a river stone.
“Had enough … or do you need another lesson?”
Fury exploded within Leitos’s breast, threatening to drive back all his caution and sense. But if he gave in and attacked the Hunter outright, he would gain nothing, and more than likely lose any future chance at escape. Retaliate or bide his time? It was a difficult choice, left him grinding his teeth in frustration.
Over long moments, a sense of dark calm invaded his senses. He had made his decision, for good or ill. He began crawling away, first on his belly, then on his hands and knees, and then he was up, wobbling along on unsteady feet.
“Where are you going, boy?” the Hunter asked in derision. He made no attempt to follow, and Leitos judged that the man’s self-assurance was too great by far.
Grow strong and cruel
, Adham’s voice intoned, swirling like a sweet poison through Leitos’s veins. He kept walking, fueling his strength of will with an image of his grandfather standing tall against the
Alon’mahk’lar
.
“There is nowhere to go, boy,” the Hunter said, now sounding more irritated than mocking.
Leitos did not respond, just placed one foot in front of the other.
A little farther
. Dripping mud concealed the stone held in his fist, just in case.
He crossed the rising riverbank and scrambled up and over a sandy berm cut by the river when it flowed even higher than it did now. At his back, the Hunter had finally begun to drift after him.
Just a little farther.
To the fore, the desert stretched out, all sand, rock, and low-growing scrub made pungent by the rain. The only difference between when he had fled the mines and now was the storm had wetted the land, and clouds blotted the harsh sunlight. That last would soon end, for the storm had relented as it pushed farther north. Some many leagues south, dark clouds, having spent their wrath, were parting, showing patches of blue. Leitos trained his eyes on the west, and stumbled into a trot.
“BOY!”
The Hunter bellowed.
With a fleeting wish that he had never encountered the Hunter, that he had been able to remain on his little island where there was food, water, and safety in isolation, he stepped up his pace.
A moment later, he was running. His legs, stiff and shaky at first, soon found their rhythm; the muscles loosened, his stride lengthened. Hard breathing forced the last of the river water from his lungs, and he spat out the silty residue. The throbbing bruises from the Hunter’s blows faded. A single shout, incoherent for the rage it held, chased after him. Leitos did not heed it.
Let him catch me!
He laughed aloud, knowing a man so huge could not.
The sound of pounding feet, closing fast, evaporated his mirth.
Disbelieving, Leitos looked around. The big man was coming at a clip made all the more terrifying for its impossible speed. The Hunter’s hood still covered his face, but his motley garb streamed out behind him like the shredded wings of a bat.
Leitos bowed his head and ran faster. Where a rock or patch of prickly scrub presented itself as a barrier, he leaped over it. On the flat, his feet splashed through puddles, or dug into mud.
The Hunter matched his speed … then began closing the distance.
Leitos
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