Read Online Malice (Faithful & the Fallen 1) by John Gwynne - Free Book Online
Authors: John Gwynne
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the ground.
What have I just done?
He lay upon the damp ground awhile, waiting for his racing heart to calm, then he rose and walked away from the bog. The forest looked different now, darker. It was difficult going, constantly
having to focus on the ground in front of him to avoid tripping in the dense vines that carpeted the forest floor. Some time had passed before he realized he had not seen any of the small streams
that he had crossed earlier. He stamped his foot on the ground, which was no longer spongy, but hard under the forest litter.
‘Oh no.’ Frantically he looked around, searching for some familiar sign, but recognized nothing. Diffuse sunlight filtered through the treetops, giving no glimpse of where the sun
lay in the sky. With a deep breath he began walking again.
Just have to keep going
, he thought.
Look for a stream that will take me back
. He shuddered, trying to control the panic
starting to bubble inside him. He knew full well that he stood little chance of surviving a night in the forest, and to find his way out he had to think clearly.
Just keep walking
, he told
himself,
and hope I’m not travelling deeper into the forest
. He quickened his pace, glancing constantly back and forth between the floor at his feet and his chosen path.
His feet were sore, toes numb when he finally stopped. It seemed that he had been walking for an age, and still no sign of a stream. Looking around, he selected a tall elm, then began to climb.
The higher he got, the thinner and wider apart the branches became. He reached a point where even balancing on the tips of his toes he could not reach the next branch above. If I can just reach the
top I should be able to see Dun Carreg. Then at least I’ll know if I’m walking in the right direction. Desperation fuelling him, he crouched slightly and jumped. Both hands gripped the
branch he was aiming for and he hung there a moment, suspended, swinging slightly as the tree’s limb flexed. Then one of his hands slipped. He windmilled wildly, desperately clinging on, then
he was falling. After colliding with a number of branches, he blacked out, to find himself in a heap on the forest floor. He sat up, groaning and then heard a faint sound. It was distant, but the
forest was mostly silent, not even a breeze rustling the trees. He strained, almost certain he could hear a voice, someone calling. He jumped up, forgetting his exhaustion and ran. When he stopped
there was silence for a moment, then he heard the voice again, much closer now. It was calling his name.
‘
HELLO!
’ he called back, cupping his hands to his mouth. He set off again, calling. Soon he saw a tall figure step from behind a tree, leading two horses, a large piebald
and a pony. The figure limped.
‘Gar,’ cried Corban, running wildly now, tears streaming down his face as he threw himself onto the stablemaster. At first the dark-haired man stood there, still as a statue. Then,
stiffly, he put his arms about the boy and patted his back.
‘What are you doing here?’ Corban asked shakily.
‘Looking for you, of course, you idiot. Willow knows his way home, even if you don’t,’ replied Gar, stepping back to look at Corban. ‘What has happened to you? You looked
bad enough when I saw you last, but now . . .’
Corban looked down at himself, covered in mud and leaves, with scrapes on his skin and holes in his cloak and breeches.
‘I was . . .’ Corban paused, knowing how stupid he was about to sound. ‘I just wanted some quiet, to be alone . . .’ he said sheepishly, looking at the floor. ‘I
got lost.’ The look on Gar’s face convinced him that this would not be a wise time to mention the wolven.
The stablemaster looked at the bedraggled boy in front of him, took a sniff, and sighed deeply.
‘You can thank your sister. She insisted I come and find you when Dath told her about Rafe.’
‘Oh. She knows,’ said Corban, shoulders sinking.
‘Aye, lad, but never mind that now,
What have I just done?
He lay upon the damp ground awhile, waiting for his racing heart to calm, then he rose and walked away from the bog. The forest looked different now, darker. It was difficult going, constantly
having to focus on the ground in front of him to avoid tripping in the dense vines that carpeted the forest floor. Some time had passed before he realized he had not seen any of the small streams
that he had crossed earlier. He stamped his foot on the ground, which was no longer spongy, but hard under the forest litter.
‘Oh no.’ Frantically he looked around, searching for some familiar sign, but recognized nothing. Diffuse sunlight filtered through the treetops, giving no glimpse of where the sun
lay in the sky. With a deep breath he began walking again.
Just have to keep going
, he thought.
Look for a stream that will take me back
. He shuddered, trying to control the panic
starting to bubble inside him. He knew full well that he stood little chance of surviving a night in the forest, and to find his way out he had to think clearly.
Just keep walking
, he told
himself,
and hope I’m not travelling deeper into the forest
. He quickened his pace, glancing constantly back and forth between the floor at his feet and his chosen path.
His feet were sore, toes numb when he finally stopped. It seemed that he had been walking for an age, and still no sign of a stream. Looking around, he selected a tall elm, then began to climb.
The higher he got, the thinner and wider apart the branches became. He reached a point where even balancing on the tips of his toes he could not reach the next branch above. If I can just reach the
top I should be able to see Dun Carreg. Then at least I’ll know if I’m walking in the right direction. Desperation fuelling him, he crouched slightly and jumped. Both hands gripped the
branch he was aiming for and he hung there a moment, suspended, swinging slightly as the tree’s limb flexed. Then one of his hands slipped. He windmilled wildly, desperately clinging on, then
he was falling. After colliding with a number of branches, he blacked out, to find himself in a heap on the forest floor. He sat up, groaning and then heard a faint sound. It was distant, but the
forest was mostly silent, not even a breeze rustling the trees. He strained, almost certain he could hear a voice, someone calling. He jumped up, forgetting his exhaustion and ran. When he stopped
there was silence for a moment, then he heard the voice again, much closer now. It was calling his name.
‘
HELLO!
’ he called back, cupping his hands to his mouth. He set off again, calling. Soon he saw a tall figure step from behind a tree, leading two horses, a large piebald
and a pony. The figure limped.
‘Gar,’ cried Corban, running wildly now, tears streaming down his face as he threw himself onto the stablemaster. At first the dark-haired man stood there, still as a statue. Then,
stiffly, he put his arms about the boy and patted his back.
‘What are you doing here?’ Corban asked shakily.
‘Looking for you, of course, you idiot. Willow knows his way home, even if you don’t,’ replied Gar, stepping back to look at Corban. ‘What has happened to you? You looked
bad enough when I saw you last, but now . . .’
Corban looked down at himself, covered in mud and leaves, with scrapes on his skin and holes in his cloak and breeches.
‘I was . . .’ Corban paused, knowing how stupid he was about to sound. ‘I just wanted some quiet, to be alone . . .’ he said sheepishly, looking at the floor. ‘I
got lost.’ The look on Gar’s face convinced him that this would not be a wise time to mention the wolven.
The stablemaster looked at the bedraggled boy in front of him, took a sniff, and sighed deeply.
‘You can thank your sister. She insisted I come and find you when Dath told her about Rafe.’
‘Oh. She knows,’ said Corban, shoulders sinking.
‘Aye, lad, but never mind that now,
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