Read Online Shallows of Night - 02 by Eric Van Lustbader - Free Book Online Page A

spent, and drifted off into a deep sleep that his body demanded. Just before dawn he had awakened once more, appearing stronger. His eyes were clear and the color of his face was near normal.
    “How long?”
    “A cycle. A day and a night.”
    He ran a thin hand across his face. “Can I have something to drink, do you think?”
    “Of course.” Ronin offered him a bowl. “Not too much.”
    The whine and whistle of the wind, the muffled patter of ice crystals against the hull.
    “You know,” said Borros after a time, “I have for so long dreamed of the Surface, imagined what it would be like—in every detail, I mean—wished to be free of the Freehold for so long—and then for my time with Freidal I wished just to die up here—that is why I told him nothing, because I knew that if I did I would die in that hole—and that terrified me more than anything, even”— He shuddered and his eyes closed. He looked bleakly at Ronin. “Can you understand?”
    Ronin nodded. “Yes. I think I can.”
    They had begun talking and, inevitably, the subject of the scroll arose.
    “Answers, Borros.”
    “Yes, my boy, quite. But I can only tell you what I know.” He sighed deeply. “The scroll is a key of some sort. The writings spoke of it as a door to the only pathway that could possibly stop The Dolman. He is destined, it said, to return to the world. First the shift in the laws, then the Makkon and the gathering of his legions and, finally, when the four Makkon are all there, they will summon The Dolman. They are his guardians, his outriders, his messengers, his reavers. Of all the creatures at his command, only the Makkon communicate with him directly. Once the four are here, their power multiplies. That is all the writings told me.”
    “And where are we bound?”
    “Ah, that I can answer with more certainty. We go south; to the continent of man. There I trust we will find those who can translate the scroll of dor-Sefrith.”
    “And if not?”
    “If not, Ronin, then The Dolman shall indeed claim the world and man shall cease to exist.”
    Ronin thought for a time. At length he said, “Borros, tell me something. If we hit a protrusion of the ice’s surface, it would scrape us low on the hull, correct?”
    The Magic Man looked puzzled. “Well, yes, I suppose so. It is hardly likely that the weather would allow any high ice formations to develop. Why?”
    “No reason,” said Ronin, turning away. “No reason at all.”
    It was dusk when it came. They had been so long with the background static of the storm that at first they thought that they were going deaf and it was not until the white noise filled their ears completely that they realized what it was. The gale had spent itself, leaving only the uncertain silence of the ice sea.
    Ronin helped Borros don his foil suit and together they went on deck. To the east, banks of dark cloud gravid with moisture and lightning scudded against the sky and overhead rolled remnants of thunderheads, the last flutterings of torn banners; but to the west the air was clear, the long horizon virtually unbroken, colored by a sliver of sun, lowering like a swollen ember in a banked fire. The sky was the color of cold ash, tinged magenta and pink about the sun’s arc. And then it was gone, night stealing over them so swiftly that it seemed as if the sun had never been there at all. Ronin held the image of the sunset in his memory, his heart lightened after so many days of seamless gray and claustrophobic white.
    They set about clearing the deck of the debris of the storm. But Borros was still weak and he was forced to stop, moving aft to see to the wheel and their course. While he did this, Ronin stowed the storm sail and set about erecting the larger mainsail to block and tackle along the yard and mast. When he unfurled it, it immediately caught the stiff breeze, billowing out. They shot forward as if fired from a bow. Blue ice flew at the bow.
    “Ronin!”
    A cry of desperation.
    And