Read Online Surviving the Improbable Quest by Anderson Atlas - Free Book Online Page B

His arm sinks into mud. His mouth dries out. His throat screams in pain like he swallowed a potato chip sideways. Allan uses all his strength to roll one more time. A pale, gray, scale-covered head rises out of the mud. Sharp spikes protrude from its skull, like horns on a bull. When it sees Allan it hisses, displaying long sharp fangs. Allan rolls again to escape, but the mud is so slick he slides into the river. Allan holds his breath as he sinks in the water. Instantly, the pain vanishes and he can move again. He pulls his arms through the water until he surfaces and rubs his neck until the pain subsides completely. His neck is swollen, but at least it doesn’t hurt. Allan pulls himself to the side of the river and tries to relax, letting his head rest on his hand. He’s got to be careful. “Do not stop to smell the roses in Lan Darr,” he says to himself. Everything is hunting him.
    He takes a sip of the river water. It’s fresh and cool and doesn’t have any odd flavors so he gulps down more. He pulls himself through the water by grabbing the reeds that grow along the bank. His feet dangle, not touching the bottom. How deep is the river? If he’s learned anything it’s that most likely there is something in the water following him. The water is dark and it freaks him out, but he’s got no other way to get around so he keeps going. Don’t think about what you can’t see. They’re just shadows in your own mind.
    When Allan was dangling from the balloon creature he saw that the wall surrounded a huge city, and where there’s a city, there’s a cop. Allan pulls himself toward the tunnel at the base of the wall where the water is diverted. On either side of the large hole in the wall, two birds stand on pedestals that protrude from the wall. They’ve got plumes of feathers on their heads and chainmail covering their chests. Their large thick beaks, blue-grey talons and dark red feathers make them look intimidating. They’re as still as statues.
    As Allan gets closer to the birds his hand snaps a twig in half. One opens its eyes and leans out from the wall. It looks back and forth. Warning signals prickle Allan’s senses so he sinks low into the water. Allan’s father used to tell him, ‘Our guts are sometimes smarter than our brains. Trust your gut; it’ll keep you safe.’ Allan didn’t understand at the time, but now he does. His gut tells him that disturbing these birds would be a death sentence.
    The other bird-guard wakes and, seeing his fellow guard looking around, pulls out a large bow made from a crooked branch. It nocks an arrow and readies it. Its vertical, piercing eyes see something across the river. It aims and shoots. The arrow whizzes through the air and lands in the back of a small rodent that scuttles by. The bird-guard leaps off its perch and beats its wings.
    It grabs the little corpse then returns to the perch and devours the rodent with untamed snaps of its sharp beak.
     

     
    When it finishes devouring the rodent, it cleans itself with a long thin tongue. The other bird-guard growls and sneers as it watches its partner groom itself. When the tension between the two ebbs, they lean back and close their eyes to the night and all that is around.
    Allan breathes, not realizing he’d held his breath the whole time. Shivers move through his body in waves. The dark night encroaches. Crickets chirp and a loon hoots in the distance. Allan can’t see more than a dozen feet from the river, but he can see thick bushes and shadows, all dark and foreboding. He feels like he’s being watched from the shadows, and his gut tells him to get inside the city.
    Allan swims quietly under the archway. A large ‘X’ is scratched into the wall. The interior of the ‘X’ is filled with red liquid that catches his attention. Isn’t that the mark of Jibbawk? The dangerous thing the tea-party salamander-people were afraid of? That means it’s close by and looking for food, a particular food. Allan