Read Online Seeds of Rebellion by Brandon Mull - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brandon Mull
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edge of the grove. Rachel slowed as she caught up.
“What was that about?” Rachel asked.
He gave her a crooked smile. “Maybe I wanted to remind you who has the fastest horse.”
“Maybe you’re just in a good mood.”
He shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything.” He patted the stallion. “He’s not even tired. I’ve never ridden his equal. I maynot have particularly liked Kimp, but I owe him for his fine taste in steeds.”
“May he rest in pieces,” Rachel said solemnly.
Drake chuckled, covering his grin with one hand. “It’s bad luck to malign the dead.”
She had made the same joke a few times before, and only kept repeating it because it always made Drake smile. “Don’t be a sissy. He tried to feed you to his dogs. He had it coming.” She had also noticed how it amused him when she talked tough. Deep down, beneath the banter, she remained haunted by the sight of Jasher and Kimp being blown apart when an orantium sphere had accidentally detonated in a grassy field near Harthenham.
Drake dismounted and gathered Mandibar’s reins. “Let’s lead them well into the trees before tethering them. I don’t like how near we’re getting to settlements.”
Rachel climbed down and led her horse into the grove. “How do we get this charm woman to help us?”
“We ask,” Drake replied. “On the only other occasion I’ve visited her, when she healed my friend Kaleb, she would accept no payment. I take it she’ll either aid us or she won’t. I expect she will if she can.”
They tethered the horses, and Rachel followed Drake deeper into the grove. He kept a hand on his sword. The trees were not very tall, but they had thick trunks with deeply grooved bark. Heavy, twisting limbs tangled overhead. She imagined that after nightfall the place would look haunted.
The undergrowth remained sparse enough to proceed without a trail. At length, Drake waved Rachel to a halt. He pointed up ahead, and she saw a long string of colorful beads looped around the knob of a fat tree. Three feathered hoops hung at the bottom of the strand.
“What is it?” Rachel whispered.
“Charm woman!” Drake called, raising his voice enough to make Rachel flinch. “We have met before! Please console us in our hour of need!”
They waited. Drake held a finger to his lips to discourage Rachel from speaking.
“You may pass” came a reply, well after Rachel had stopped expecting one. The sonorous female voice sounded younger than Rachel had anticipated.
Drake led Rachel past the strand of painted beads. As they advanced, she noticed various trinkets—some fashioned out of metal, some of bone or ivory, others of stone—dangling from other trees and shrubs.
They reached a small clearing. In the center awaited a large tent composed of stitched animal hides in mottled shades of gray and brown. The head of a wolf, still attached to the pelt, lolled over the entrance. Small carvings and graven figures surrounded the tent in a loose circle.
A woman appeared, taller than Rachel, but hunched, with ratty silver hair and a face that looked too young and smooth to match her spotted, wrinkled hands. She wore crude brown garments belted at the waist, and a colorful shawl. In one gnarled hand she held a staff topped by dangling trinkets that clinked when in motion.
“Drake,” she greeted, her voice melodious. “I believed we would meet again.”
“I would not have bet on it,” he answered. “Until recently I expected to rot and die in Harthenham.”
“You have brought a visitor,” the charm woman said. “What is your name, sweetling?”
“Rachel.”
Her attention returned to Drake. “What is your need?”
“We’re being chased by a lurker.”
The woman squinted. “Yes, I have sensed one nearby. It has been years since Maldor deployed a torivor.”
“Can you help us?” Drake asked.
“You have brought a terrible threat my way. But that harm is already done. We shall see if I can help you. Remove
“What was that about?” Rachel asked.
He gave her a crooked smile. “Maybe I wanted to remind you who has the fastest horse.”
“Maybe you’re just in a good mood.”
He shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything.” He patted the stallion. “He’s not even tired. I’ve never ridden his equal. I maynot have particularly liked Kimp, but I owe him for his fine taste in steeds.”
“May he rest in pieces,” Rachel said solemnly.
Drake chuckled, covering his grin with one hand. “It’s bad luck to malign the dead.”
She had made the same joke a few times before, and only kept repeating it because it always made Drake smile. “Don’t be a sissy. He tried to feed you to his dogs. He had it coming.” She had also noticed how it amused him when she talked tough. Deep down, beneath the banter, she remained haunted by the sight of Jasher and Kimp being blown apart when an orantium sphere had accidentally detonated in a grassy field near Harthenham.
Drake dismounted and gathered Mandibar’s reins. “Let’s lead them well into the trees before tethering them. I don’t like how near we’re getting to settlements.”
Rachel climbed down and led her horse into the grove. “How do we get this charm woman to help us?”
“We ask,” Drake replied. “On the only other occasion I’ve visited her, when she healed my friend Kaleb, she would accept no payment. I take it she’ll either aid us or she won’t. I expect she will if she can.”
They tethered the horses, and Rachel followed Drake deeper into the grove. He kept a hand on his sword. The trees were not very tall, but they had thick trunks with deeply grooved bark. Heavy, twisting limbs tangled overhead. She imagined that after nightfall the place would look haunted.
The undergrowth remained sparse enough to proceed without a trail. At length, Drake waved Rachel to a halt. He pointed up ahead, and she saw a long string of colorful beads looped around the knob of a fat tree. Three feathered hoops hung at the bottom of the strand.
“What is it?” Rachel whispered.
“Charm woman!” Drake called, raising his voice enough to make Rachel flinch. “We have met before! Please console us in our hour of need!”
They waited. Drake held a finger to his lips to discourage Rachel from speaking.
“You may pass” came a reply, well after Rachel had stopped expecting one. The sonorous female voice sounded younger than Rachel had anticipated.
Drake led Rachel past the strand of painted beads. As they advanced, she noticed various trinkets—some fashioned out of metal, some of bone or ivory, others of stone—dangling from other trees and shrubs.
They reached a small clearing. In the center awaited a large tent composed of stitched animal hides in mottled shades of gray and brown. The head of a wolf, still attached to the pelt, lolled over the entrance. Small carvings and graven figures surrounded the tent in a loose circle.
A woman appeared, taller than Rachel, but hunched, with ratty silver hair and a face that looked too young and smooth to match her spotted, wrinkled hands. She wore crude brown garments belted at the waist, and a colorful shawl. In one gnarled hand she held a staff topped by dangling trinkets that clinked when in motion.
“Drake,” she greeted, her voice melodious. “I believed we would meet again.”
“I would not have bet on it,” he answered. “Until recently I expected to rot and die in Harthenham.”
“You have brought a visitor,” the charm woman said. “What is your name, sweetling?”
“Rachel.”
Her attention returned to Drake. “What is your need?”
“We’re being chased by a lurker.”
The woman squinted. “Yes, I have sensed one nearby. It has been years since Maldor deployed a torivor.”
“Can you help us?” Drake asked.
“You have brought a terrible threat my way. But that harm is already done. We shall see if I can help you. Remove
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