Read Online Lord of the Shadows by Darren Shan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Darren Shan
Tags: JUV001000
Ads: Link
out from behind R.V. It was Gannen Harst, the prime protector of the Lord of the Vampaneze.
Part of me had expected this, and instead of panicking, I experienced something close to relief. The waiting was over. Whatever destiny had in store for me, it started here. One final encounter with the Vampaneze Lord. At the end of it, I’d kill him — or he’d kill me. Either way was better than the waiting.
“Hello, Gannen,” I said. “Still hanging out with madmen and scum, I see.”
Gannen Harst bristled but didn’t reply. “Lord,” he said instead, and a fourth ambusher stepped out from behind Morgan James, more familiar than any of the others.
“Good to see you again, Steve,” I said cynically as the grey-haired Steve Leopard slid into view. I was partly focused on Gannen Harst, R.V., and Morgan James — but mostly on Steve. I was judging the gap between us, wondering what sort of damage I could do if I hurled my truncheons at him. I didn’t care about the other three — killing the Vampaneze Lord was my first priority.
“He doesn’t look surprised to see us,” Steve remarked. He hadn’t stepped out as far as Gannen Harst, and was protected by the body of Morgan James. I might be able to hit him from this angle — but it was a very big
might.
“Let me have him,” R.V. snarled, taking a step towards me. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been wearing red contact lenses, and had painted his skin purple, to look more like a vampaneze. But his eyes and skin had changed naturally over the past two years, and though his coloring was slight in comparison to a mature vampaneze, it was genuine.
“Stay where you are,” Steve said to R.V. “We can all have a slice of him later. Let’s finish the introductions first. Darius.”
From behind Steve, the boy called Darius stepped out. He was wearing green robes, like Steve. He was shivering, but his face was set sternly. He was holding a large arrow-gun, one of Steve’s inventions. It was pointed at me.
“Have you started blooding children now?” I growled disgustedly, still waiting for Steve to move out a little more, ignoring the threat of the boy’s arrow-gun.
“Darius is an exception,” Steve said, smiling. “A most worthy ally and a valuable spy.”
Steve took a half-step towards the boy. This was my chance! I began to draw my right hand back, careful not to give my intentions away, totally focused on Steve. Another second or two and I could make my play . . .
Then Darius spoke.
“Shall I shoot him now, Dad?”
DAD?
“Yes, son,” Steve replied.
SON?
While my brain spun and whirled like a dervish, Darius steadied his aim, gulped, pulled the trigger, and shot a steel-tipped arrow straight at me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
T HE ARROW STRUCK ME HIGH in my right shoulder, knocking me backwards. I roared with agony, grabbed the shaft of the arrow, and pulled. The shaft broke off in my hand, leaving the head stuck deep in my flesh.
For a moment the world around me turned red. I thought I was going to pass out. But then the crimson haze faded and the road and houses swam back into focus. Over the sound of my pained panting, I heard footsteps coming towards me. Sitting up — grinding my teeth together to fight back a wave of fresh pain — I saw Steve leading his small band in for the kill.
I’d let go of the batons when I fell. One had rolled away, but the other was close by. I snatched for it and for the shaft of the arrow — the splintered end could be used as a crude dagger. When Gannen Harst saw this, he stepped in front of Steve. “Fan out!” he commanded R.V. and Morgan James. They swiftly obeyed. The boy, Darius, was behind Steve. He looked sick. I don’t think he’d ever shot anyone before.
“Keep back!” I hissed, waving my pitiful weapons at them.
“Make us,” R.V. giggled.
“Uhr’d luhk tuh shee im truhy!” said Morgan James, who could only speak in a slur since his accident.
“We won’t let him try anything,” Gannen
Part of me had expected this, and instead of panicking, I experienced something close to relief. The waiting was over. Whatever destiny had in store for me, it started here. One final encounter with the Vampaneze Lord. At the end of it, I’d kill him — or he’d kill me. Either way was better than the waiting.
“Hello, Gannen,” I said. “Still hanging out with madmen and scum, I see.”
Gannen Harst bristled but didn’t reply. “Lord,” he said instead, and a fourth ambusher stepped out from behind Morgan James, more familiar than any of the others.
“Good to see you again, Steve,” I said cynically as the grey-haired Steve Leopard slid into view. I was partly focused on Gannen Harst, R.V., and Morgan James — but mostly on Steve. I was judging the gap between us, wondering what sort of damage I could do if I hurled my truncheons at him. I didn’t care about the other three — killing the Vampaneze Lord was my first priority.
“He doesn’t look surprised to see us,” Steve remarked. He hadn’t stepped out as far as Gannen Harst, and was protected by the body of Morgan James. I might be able to hit him from this angle — but it was a very big
might.
“Let me have him,” R.V. snarled, taking a step towards me. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been wearing red contact lenses, and had painted his skin purple, to look more like a vampaneze. But his eyes and skin had changed naturally over the past two years, and though his coloring was slight in comparison to a mature vampaneze, it was genuine.
“Stay where you are,” Steve said to R.V. “We can all have a slice of him later. Let’s finish the introductions first. Darius.”
From behind Steve, the boy called Darius stepped out. He was wearing green robes, like Steve. He was shivering, but his face was set sternly. He was holding a large arrow-gun, one of Steve’s inventions. It was pointed at me.
“Have you started blooding children now?” I growled disgustedly, still waiting for Steve to move out a little more, ignoring the threat of the boy’s arrow-gun.
“Darius is an exception,” Steve said, smiling. “A most worthy ally and a valuable spy.”
Steve took a half-step towards the boy. This was my chance! I began to draw my right hand back, careful not to give my intentions away, totally focused on Steve. Another second or two and I could make my play . . .
Then Darius spoke.
“Shall I shoot him now, Dad?”
DAD?
“Yes, son,” Steve replied.
SON?
While my brain spun and whirled like a dervish, Darius steadied his aim, gulped, pulled the trigger, and shot a steel-tipped arrow straight at me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
T HE ARROW STRUCK ME HIGH in my right shoulder, knocking me backwards. I roared with agony, grabbed the shaft of the arrow, and pulled. The shaft broke off in my hand, leaving the head stuck deep in my flesh.
For a moment the world around me turned red. I thought I was going to pass out. But then the crimson haze faded and the road and houses swam back into focus. Over the sound of my pained panting, I heard footsteps coming towards me. Sitting up — grinding my teeth together to fight back a wave of fresh pain — I saw Steve leading his small band in for the kill.
I’d let go of the batons when I fell. One had rolled away, but the other was close by. I snatched for it and for the shaft of the arrow — the splintered end could be used as a crude dagger. When Gannen Harst saw this, he stepped in front of Steve. “Fan out!” he commanded R.V. and Morgan James. They swiftly obeyed. The boy, Darius, was behind Steve. He looked sick. I don’t think he’d ever shot anyone before.
“Keep back!” I hissed, waving my pitiful weapons at them.
“Make us,” R.V. giggled.
“Uhr’d luhk tuh shee im truhy!” said Morgan James, who could only speak in a slur since his accident.
“We won’t let him try anything,” Gannen