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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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from the raindrops and sweat that had collected on the man’s skin.
Or
it has come to feast on dead flesh
.
As he knelt down by the Hunter’s side, it crossed his mind to smash the stone against the man’s temple, just as he had slammed another stone against the adder’s skull. The memory of the mangled mess he had made of the serpent’s head kept him from taking that action. It felt wrong to desecrate a corpse. Nevertheless, he held the stone overhead in one hand, and reached out with the other.
At the first touch, Leitos recoiled. The Hunter’s clothing was soiled, stiff, and greasy. Moreover, the man’s odor truly hit him for the first time, the stench of old sweat, rancid meat, and other unmentionable filth.
He had to know if the Hunter had any life left in him.
He had to know.
The sooner done, the sooner he could continue his westward journey toward the Crown of the Setting Sun, somewhere beyond the Mountains of Fire. For the first time, he was amazed to realize that the thought of that journey did not trouble him, but rather filled him with a glimmer of his grandfather’s hope….
Admonishing himself for delaying, Leitos pressed his hand firmly on the Hunter’s chest. His mouth fell open at the powerful thud of the man’s beating heart. His gaze flicked to the man’s face even as the Hunter’s dark eyes flared open, gleaming with a mad cruelty that destroyed his comeliness.
A squawk of terror burst from Leitos’s throat. Too late, he swung his weapon. The Hunter batted his hand aside, and the stone flew free. Then a massive fist clutched around Leitos’s throat, squeezing so tight that he could not breathe, let alone cry out. Leitos clawed at the man’s fingers. The Hunter drew him near, turned his head this way and that, as if seeking something behind his eyes.
The Hunter grinned, an ugly expression. “You should have broken my skull, boy,” he growled. “Would have been an easy kill—I was gone for a moment—and I deserved to die for misjudging you.”
He drew Leitos close. “Your third lesson, boy, is that mercy is for the weak,” he whispered, his thick fingers tightening around Leitos’s throat. The Hunter drew back his other fist and rammed it forward. Leitos felt no pain, no anything. In an instant, the day was made night.
Chapter 10
M ercy is for the weak
.… the words were soft, sinister. Leitos loomed over the Hunter, for some reason sure he had done this before. He shook his head, thinking that strange thought about mercy was fitting and so true.
Mercy is for the weak … and I am weak no longer.
He swung the stone, cracking it against the Hunter’s skull. The man’s eyes flared wide. He reached up and caught Leitos throat. Leitos tried to jerk back, tried to shout—
Agonies beyond count assailed Leitos as he started awake. He lay there taking deep, ragged breaths that burned his throat, wondering what had happened, why was he not battering in the Hunter’s skull….
A dream,
he thought in despair, remembering his failed attempt to get away, as well as missing his chance to destroy his enemy. He tried to open his eyes, but the Hunter’s attack had left one swollen shut. The other cracked, just a fraction, and through it he saw a world painted in muddy red hues.
He lay on a bed of cool sand, deep in shadow. For fear of alerting the Hunter that he was awake, he moved only his eyes, trying to guess where he was. Overhead, aged daylight reflected off a curve of smooth rock.
I’m in a cave
.
As his awareness grew, he noticed that tight ropes bound his wrists together before his chest. He cautiously wriggled his legs, and found his ankles tied as well. Silence fell on his ears. No wind, no shuffling of ratty clothing, nothing. He could hope the Hunter had decided to leave him to die, but that was unlikely. The man had risked his life to snatch Leitos from perilous floodwaters, all on the slim chance that Leitos was the slave he hunted. For now, Leitos was sure he was
Or
it has come to feast on dead flesh
.
As he knelt down by the Hunter’s side, it crossed his mind to smash the stone against the man’s temple, just as he had slammed another stone against the adder’s skull. The memory of the mangled mess he had made of the serpent’s head kept him from taking that action. It felt wrong to desecrate a corpse. Nevertheless, he held the stone overhead in one hand, and reached out with the other.
At the first touch, Leitos recoiled. The Hunter’s clothing was soiled, stiff, and greasy. Moreover, the man’s odor truly hit him for the first time, the stench of old sweat, rancid meat, and other unmentionable filth.
He had to know if the Hunter had any life left in him.
He had to know.
The sooner done, the sooner he could continue his westward journey toward the Crown of the Setting Sun, somewhere beyond the Mountains of Fire. For the first time, he was amazed to realize that the thought of that journey did not trouble him, but rather filled him with a glimmer of his grandfather’s hope….
Admonishing himself for delaying, Leitos pressed his hand firmly on the Hunter’s chest. His mouth fell open at the powerful thud of the man’s beating heart. His gaze flicked to the man’s face even as the Hunter’s dark eyes flared open, gleaming with a mad cruelty that destroyed his comeliness.
A squawk of terror burst from Leitos’s throat. Too late, he swung his weapon. The Hunter batted his hand aside, and the stone flew free. Then a massive fist clutched around Leitos’s throat, squeezing so tight that he could not breathe, let alone cry out. Leitos clawed at the man’s fingers. The Hunter drew him near, turned his head this way and that, as if seeking something behind his eyes.
The Hunter grinned, an ugly expression. “You should have broken my skull, boy,” he growled. “Would have been an easy kill—I was gone for a moment—and I deserved to die for misjudging you.”
He drew Leitos close. “Your third lesson, boy, is that mercy is for the weak,” he whispered, his thick fingers tightening around Leitos’s throat. The Hunter drew back his other fist and rammed it forward. Leitos felt no pain, no anything. In an instant, the day was made night.
Chapter 10
M ercy is for the weak
.… the words were soft, sinister. Leitos loomed over the Hunter, for some reason sure he had done this before. He shook his head, thinking that strange thought about mercy was fitting and so true.
Mercy is for the weak … and I am weak no longer.
He swung the stone, cracking it against the Hunter’s skull. The man’s eyes flared wide. He reached up and caught Leitos throat. Leitos tried to jerk back, tried to shout—
Agonies beyond count assailed Leitos as he started awake. He lay there taking deep, ragged breaths that burned his throat, wondering what had happened, why was he not battering in the Hunter’s skull….
A dream,
he thought in despair, remembering his failed attempt to get away, as well as missing his chance to destroy his enemy. He tried to open his eyes, but the Hunter’s attack had left one swollen shut. The other cracked, just a fraction, and through it he saw a world painted in muddy red hues.
He lay on a bed of cool sand, deep in shadow. For fear of alerting the Hunter that he was awake, he moved only his eyes, trying to guess where he was. Overhead, aged daylight reflected off a curve of smooth rock.
I’m in a cave
.
As his awareness grew, he noticed that tight ropes bound his wrists together before his chest. He cautiously wriggled his legs, and found his ankles tied as well. Silence fell on his ears. No wind, no shuffling of ratty clothing, nothing. He could hope the Hunter had decided to leave him to die, but that was unlikely. The man had risked his life to snatch Leitos from perilous floodwaters, all on the slim chance that Leitos was the slave he hunted. For now, Leitos was sure he was
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