Read Online Skyland by Aelius Blythe - Free Book Online Page A

was, all smoldering. A cough forced it's way
through his lips. Saliva flew between his clenched teeth.
    His house was melting. Melting and burning
and crashing.
    Someone shouted. A man. By the door. Or what
might have been the door or might have been an empty hole where the
door was. The chair maker did not look.
    Another shout. Then hands.
    Persistent hands grabbed the chair maker's
shoulders from behind. The man said something. The chair maker did
not hear and did not listen.
    "No."
    It said something else. He did not
listen.
    "No."
    The hands pulled at him. They dragged him
Then two arms were around him and the arms dragged him up.
    "No. Belle..."
    He was such an old man! He tugged helplessly
at the delicate hand that was still in his own, pulling himself
back down to the floor. He was bent as the arms behind him tried to
pull him up and he clung to the pale hand. But the arms were so
strong! Or they were stronger than the old chair maker. He was so
old... The arms were pulling him, pulling him up, pulling him up
off the floor, then he was almost standing and the pale hand in his
was slipping.
    "No. Belle.."
    The arms pulled him backwards, backwards
still bent towards the floor, backwards to the workshop door, and
the pale hand was slipping and only it's fingers were in his
now.
    "No."
    The pale hand fell with a thunk.
    His own hand was empty and the hands behind
him were still pulling him up, pulling him back, pulling him away
to the door.
    No. The chair maker struggled.
    "Come on! "
    "What?" The chair maker looked around. There
was a man behind him, the man that the arms belonged to. "What are
you doing?"
    " Come on! "
    "No, I don't think–"
    "For fuck's sake, jackass! Get moving!"
    "I have to wait... wait for my wife... I'm
sorry, I don't know who you are."
    "I'm leaving. That's who I am. I'm leaving and so are you. We are leaving! Now. Let's
go!"
    "No I have to wait... my wife is
here..."
    "Move old man! Someone will pull her out
later. Come on."
    "I think–I think she needs help."
    " You need help now. You . You
need to go!"
    "No."
    "There will be burials later. Come on !"
    Burials.
    The chair maker doubled up. His lungs
spasmed, the acrid air forced it's way through his lips again. He
coughed and coughed. He couldn't pull away from the arms that were
pulling him away from his wife. One step. Another. Another. He
bumped into something. A voice was babbling beside him.
    "That's it now. Watch yourself. I think your
sign's broken. Caught myself on that earlier. Okay, okay. Come on
now."

 
     
    Chapter
Ten
    in which there is
news ...
     
    Sweat shone on the news anchor's forehead.
Dark circles hung under her eyes. Her face was worn. There were
lines on it that Harper had never seen in images of Union women.
Deep lines marked the sides of her mouth, thinner ones ran along
her forehead and her eyes looked like they had been scrunched up
for too long.
    Like an old farmer's wife.
    The anchor woman's hands moved to her hair.
She looked down, she looked to the side, she gazed over the camera
with blank, confused eyes. She kept talking.
    "...total numbers unknown. Union officials
on the periphery report thousands missing. Communications to the
embassies are slowed to a near standstill, lines flooded with calls
of Union citizens asking after relatives, friends traveling on
Skyland. Uh, um... "
    The anchor's eyes blinked. Fast. They
flicked over the camera. To the side. Back to the camera. One
finger wiped quickly across her nose, then jerked back down to the
table. She looked down, back up, all the while talking, talking,
talking.
    " ...services in almost every chapel, the
faithful keeping vigil all over the Union... "
    In the background of the broadcast, an image
showed hundreds of people clothed in black, holding candles,
holding hands, holding pictures. The eerie music of the Infinite
Space whispered under the news anchors voice. Harper flinched.
    The image disappeared from the projection as
the woman kept talking, but the