Read Online In Camelot’s Shadow: Book One of The Paths to Camelot Series (Prologue Fantasy) by Sarah Zettel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Zettel
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stick of wood.
Anger overrode the fear that filled Risa. “Leave him be!” She flung herself from Thetis’s back. The sorcerer did not seem concerned for her shout or her sudden movement. Steel glinted in the moonlight as he drew a wickedly curved knife from his belt. The sight of it stopped Risa’s heart. Whitcomb rolled, trying to get away, trying to rise, but although he pushed himself up on his arms, it was only to fall again. Risa pulled her bow off her shoulders and an arrow from her quiver.
“Do not touch him!” she cried as she nocked the arrow in the string. “Can you make a beast run itself to death? I can hit a mark at fifty yards.” She drew the string back next to her ear, sighting along the shaft. Even in the dark Euberacon Magnus would be an easy target.
“Run,” croaked Whitcomb, rolling to his side again, struggling still to rise. “Run!”
She did not heed him. She would not abandon Whitcomb to this devil. “Leave us, sorcerer. I belong to none such as you!”
Euberacon turned his inhuman eyes toward her. They glinted like the steel of his knife. Risa braced herself to let the arrow fly.
The bowstring snapped in two.
The arrow fell soundlessly to the ground. Risa stared dumbfounded, unable to understand what had happened. Euberacon bent over Whitcomb, who swung out feebly. The sorcerer avoided the blow with ease. Risa rushed forward, but it was too late. The sorcerer lifted his dagger and plunged it straight down into Whitcomb’s heart.
Risa screamed. Whitcomb cried out, a long wail of terror and pain, as his blood poured out onto the ground. Risa threw herself at the sorcerer, grappling with him, but he tossed her back easily. She scrambled backward, groping for a branch, a stone, anything she might use for a weapon.
Whitcomb’s cry fell silent, and all his struggles ceased.
“No!” wailed Risa, pushing herself to her feet. She could not see Thetis. She could not see the road. She could not see anything but Whitcomb dead on the cold ground, and the sorcerer bending over him as if to examine his work for flaws.
“Demon!” She still had no weapon, but in that moment she could have torn him apart with her bare hands.
“Cease this nonsense.” Euberacon straightened up. His robes were so black that she could not even tell if he had any blood on them. “Come to your master.”
Risa’s breath froze in her lungs. Unseen hands seemed to catch up her limbs, compelling her forward even as a fog descended over her mind, disordering her thoughts and confusing her senses.
“No!” she screamed, straining to hold herself still. “Mother Mary save me!”
Euberacon laughed, and the sound filled her like winter’s ice. “No mystic virgin can hear you now, little girl. All ears, all eyes here are mine.” He was close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin. How had she moved so far? Her hands and arms had gone numb. “For you now there is no God, no savior, no father, no mother, no protector save for me.”
“You lie, villain!”
Hoofbeats shattered the stillness. Sensation returned in a rush and Risa jerked her head up to see a figure on a grey horse thundering toward them, a flashing spear raised high. Euberacon yanked Risa sideways, but she twisted in his grip, grabbing at his little finger and forcing it back. He cried in pain and his hold broke. Risa dove forward just as the mounted figure cut the night between them. She rolled, getting tangled in her own skirts, but somehow managing to get her legs free to stagger to her feet.
The horseman wheeled his mount in a tight and expert turn. Moonlight sparkled on mail, on harness, on spear’s tip and on shining dark hair. Euberacon’s face had broken into a snarl, and he raised clawed and empty hands. The horseman wasted no time digging in his heels and charging the sorcerer again. At first she thought the spear must have caught him square in the chest, but he only spun back, and did not fall.
Risa did not stand and
Anger overrode the fear that filled Risa. “Leave him be!” She flung herself from Thetis’s back. The sorcerer did not seem concerned for her shout or her sudden movement. Steel glinted in the moonlight as he drew a wickedly curved knife from his belt. The sight of it stopped Risa’s heart. Whitcomb rolled, trying to get away, trying to rise, but although he pushed himself up on his arms, it was only to fall again. Risa pulled her bow off her shoulders and an arrow from her quiver.
“Do not touch him!” she cried as she nocked the arrow in the string. “Can you make a beast run itself to death? I can hit a mark at fifty yards.” She drew the string back next to her ear, sighting along the shaft. Even in the dark Euberacon Magnus would be an easy target.
“Run,” croaked Whitcomb, rolling to his side again, struggling still to rise. “Run!”
She did not heed him. She would not abandon Whitcomb to this devil. “Leave us, sorcerer. I belong to none such as you!”
Euberacon turned his inhuman eyes toward her. They glinted like the steel of his knife. Risa braced herself to let the arrow fly.
The bowstring snapped in two.
The arrow fell soundlessly to the ground. Risa stared dumbfounded, unable to understand what had happened. Euberacon bent over Whitcomb, who swung out feebly. The sorcerer avoided the blow with ease. Risa rushed forward, but it was too late. The sorcerer lifted his dagger and plunged it straight down into Whitcomb’s heart.
Risa screamed. Whitcomb cried out, a long wail of terror and pain, as his blood poured out onto the ground. Risa threw herself at the sorcerer, grappling with him, but he tossed her back easily. She scrambled backward, groping for a branch, a stone, anything she might use for a weapon.
Whitcomb’s cry fell silent, and all his struggles ceased.
“No!” wailed Risa, pushing herself to her feet. She could not see Thetis. She could not see the road. She could not see anything but Whitcomb dead on the cold ground, and the sorcerer bending over him as if to examine his work for flaws.
“Demon!” She still had no weapon, but in that moment she could have torn him apart with her bare hands.
“Cease this nonsense.” Euberacon straightened up. His robes were so black that she could not even tell if he had any blood on them. “Come to your master.”
Risa’s breath froze in her lungs. Unseen hands seemed to catch up her limbs, compelling her forward even as a fog descended over her mind, disordering her thoughts and confusing her senses.
“No!” she screamed, straining to hold herself still. “Mother Mary save me!”
Euberacon laughed, and the sound filled her like winter’s ice. “No mystic virgin can hear you now, little girl. All ears, all eyes here are mine.” He was close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin. How had she moved so far? Her hands and arms had gone numb. “For you now there is no God, no savior, no father, no mother, no protector save for me.”
“You lie, villain!”
Hoofbeats shattered the stillness. Sensation returned in a rush and Risa jerked her head up to see a figure on a grey horse thundering toward them, a flashing spear raised high. Euberacon yanked Risa sideways, but she twisted in his grip, grabbing at his little finger and forcing it back. He cried in pain and his hold broke. Risa dove forward just as the mounted figure cut the night between them. She rolled, getting tangled in her own skirts, but somehow managing to get her legs free to stagger to her feet.
The horseman wheeled his mount in a tight and expert turn. Moonlight sparkled on mail, on harness, on spear’s tip and on shining dark hair. Euberacon’s face had broken into a snarl, and he raised clawed and empty hands. The horseman wasted no time digging in his heels and charging the sorcerer again. At first she thought the spear must have caught him square in the chest, but he only spun back, and did not fall.
Risa did not stand and
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