Read Online Stones of Power 01 - Ghost King by David Gemmell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Gemmell
Ads: Link
thickened before Thuro, solidifying into a Roman warrior with bronze breastplate and leather helm. He seemed young, but his eyes were old. The warrior dropped into a fighting crouch with blade extended and Thuro backed away, uncertain. The warrior advanced, locking Thuro's gaze. The blade lunged. Instinctively Thuro parried, but his opponent's gladius rolled over his own and plunged into the boy's chest. The pain was sickening and all strength fled from the prince. His knees buckled and he fell with a scream as the Roman dragged free his blade.
Moments later Thuro rose out of darkness to feel the snow on his face. He pushed himself to his knees and felt for the wound. There was none. Culain's strong hand pulled him to his feet and Thuro's head spun. Culain sat him on the chopping ring.
"The man you fought was a Roman legionary who served under Agricola. He was seventeen and went on to become a fine gladiator. You met him early in his career. Did you learn anything?'
'I learnt I am no swordsman,' admitted Thuro ruefully.
'I want you to use your brain and stop thinking with your feelings. You knew nothing of Plutarch before Maedhlyn taught you. There are no born swordsmen; it is an acquired skill, like any other.
All it requires is good reflexes, allied to courage. You have both. Believe it! Now follow me, there is something I want you to see.'
Thuro offered the gladius to Culain, who waved it away. 'Carry it with you always. Get used to the feel and the weight. Keep it sharp.'
The Mist Warrior walked out past the cabin and down the slope towards the valley below. Thuro followed, his belly aching for food. The return trip to Culain's cabin was made in less than an hour and the prince was frozen when they arrived. The cabin was cold and there was no wood in the hearth.
'I shall prepare breakfast,' said Culain. 'You . . .'
'I know. Chop some logs.'
Culain smiled and left the boy by the wood-store. Thuro took up the axe in his sore hands and began his work. He managed only six logs and carried the chunks into the hearth. Culain did not berate him and gave him a wooden bowl filled with hot oats, sweetened with honey. The meal was heavenly.
Culain cleared away the dishes and returned with a wide bowl brimming with clear water. He placed it before Thuro and waited for the ripples to settle.
'Look into the water, Thuro.' As the prince leaned forward, Culain lifted a golden stone over it and closed his eyes.
At first Thuro could see only his reflection and the wooden beams above his head. But then the water misted and he found himself staring down from a great height to the shores of a frozen lake.
A group of riders was gathered there. The scene swelled, as if Thuro were swooping down towards them, and he recognised his father. A burning pain began in his chest, tightening his throat, and tears blurred his vision. He blinked them back. By the lake a man stepped from behind a rock, a long-bow bent. The arrow flashed into his father's back and his horse reared as his weight fell across its neck, but he held on. The other riders swarmed forward and the king drew his sword and cut the first man from "the saddle. A second arrow took his horse in the throat and the beast fell. The king leapt clear and ran to the edge of the lake, turning with his back to the ice. The riders - seventeen of them - dismounted. Thuro saw Eldared at the rear with one of his sons. The group rushed forward and the king, blood staining his beard, stepped in to meet them with his double-handed sword hacking and cleaving. The killers fell back in dismay. Five were now down, two others retired from the fray with deep wounds to arm and shoulder. The king stumbled and bent double, blood frothing from his mouth. Thuro wanted to look away, but his eyes were locked to the scene. An assassin ran in to plunge a dagger to the king's side; the dying monarch's blade sliced up and over, all but beheading the man. Then the king turned and staggered on to the ice and,
Moments later Thuro rose out of darkness to feel the snow on his face. He pushed himself to his knees and felt for the wound. There was none. Culain's strong hand pulled him to his feet and Thuro's head spun. Culain sat him on the chopping ring.
"The man you fought was a Roman legionary who served under Agricola. He was seventeen and went on to become a fine gladiator. You met him early in his career. Did you learn anything?'
'I learnt I am no swordsman,' admitted Thuro ruefully.
'I want you to use your brain and stop thinking with your feelings. You knew nothing of Plutarch before Maedhlyn taught you. There are no born swordsmen; it is an acquired skill, like any other.
All it requires is good reflexes, allied to courage. You have both. Believe it! Now follow me, there is something I want you to see.'
Thuro offered the gladius to Culain, who waved it away. 'Carry it with you always. Get used to the feel and the weight. Keep it sharp.'
The Mist Warrior walked out past the cabin and down the slope towards the valley below. Thuro followed, his belly aching for food. The return trip to Culain's cabin was made in less than an hour and the prince was frozen when they arrived. The cabin was cold and there was no wood in the hearth.
'I shall prepare breakfast,' said Culain. 'You . . .'
'I know. Chop some logs.'
Culain smiled and left the boy by the wood-store. Thuro took up the axe in his sore hands and began his work. He managed only six logs and carried the chunks into the hearth. Culain did not berate him and gave him a wooden bowl filled with hot oats, sweetened with honey. The meal was heavenly.
Culain cleared away the dishes and returned with a wide bowl brimming with clear water. He placed it before Thuro and waited for the ripples to settle.
'Look into the water, Thuro.' As the prince leaned forward, Culain lifted a golden stone over it and closed his eyes.
At first Thuro could see only his reflection and the wooden beams above his head. But then the water misted and he found himself staring down from a great height to the shores of a frozen lake.
A group of riders was gathered there. The scene swelled, as if Thuro were swooping down towards them, and he recognised his father. A burning pain began in his chest, tightening his throat, and tears blurred his vision. He blinked them back. By the lake a man stepped from behind a rock, a long-bow bent. The arrow flashed into his father's back and his horse reared as his weight fell across its neck, but he held on. The other riders swarmed forward and the king drew his sword and cut the first man from "the saddle. A second arrow took his horse in the throat and the beast fell. The king leapt clear and ran to the edge of the lake, turning with his back to the ice. The riders - seventeen of them - dismounted. Thuro saw Eldared at the rear with one of his sons. The group rushed forward and the king, blood staining his beard, stepped in to meet them with his double-handed sword hacking and cleaving. The killers fell back in dismay. Five were now down, two others retired from the fray with deep wounds to arm and shoulder. The king stumbled and bent double, blood frothing from his mouth. Thuro wanted to look away, but his eyes were locked to the scene. An assassin ran in to plunge a dagger to the king's side; the dying monarch's blade sliced up and over, all but beheading the man. Then the king turned and staggered on to the ice and,
Similar Books
