Read Online Talus and the Frozen King by Graham Edwards - Free Book Online
Authors: Graham Edwards
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his expression fell. 'Is that really how death comes?'
Talus pushed Arak's hand gently away. 'It is just a story,' he said.
Arak shuffled his buttocks on the hard ground. He scratched the back of his neck. Presently, he spoke again.
'I don't know what to do.' He looked across to where his brothers were feasting. 'None of us do. Can you make it right?'
'I will do what I can,' said Talus. 'But only if the king-to-be wills it.'
'Tharn will look after us. He always does. It's the way of Creyak that he should be king now.
Nothing can stop that.'
Arak continued to fidget. His eyes continued to rove. He looked lost.
'There is a reason for everything,' said Talus. 'Even death.'
'Death comes for a reason?' said Arak.
'I believe so.'
'It's hard to believe it.'
'Yes, it is.'
'Death brings more than just grief,' said Bran. 'It brings a need to know the truth. A need to close ... Talus, how did you describe it to me?'
'To close the past,' said the bard.
'Closing,' murmured Arak.
'Knowing the truth closes the door that lets in the darkness,' said Talus. 'This is something time has taught me. It is why I do what I do.'
'And what's that?'
'I find truth where there appears to be none.'
'So ... you will help?' said Arak. 'You will work to make this right? To make this man answer for what he has done?'
'I will work to uncover the truth. If that is what you consider to be "right", then the answer to your question is yes.'
Arak leaped to his feet, suddenly grinning. 'That's all I wanted to know!'
With that, he ran off into the throng.
'Poor boy,' said Bran. 'He's lost.'
'Death brings trials, Bran. You know that.'
Despite the blazing heat of the fire, Bran shivered. 'Yes,' he said, 'I do.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
As the evening went on, fermented drinks were passed around and the proceedings grew increasingly unruly. At a wink from Talus, Bran started groaning and rubbing his belly. Tharn's change of heart meant he no longer needed a guard so nobody protested when he made his excuses and retired from the arena.
He went straight to the cairn.
Talus had already taken great delight in explaining to Bran about the cairn's design.
'It is cunningly built,' the bard had said. 'Its walls shape any sounds that are made inside it.
Imagine! A simple footstep becomes the grunt of a sleeping giant. A single human voice swells up until it becomes the roar of an angry mob.'
Well, that explained how Mishina, simply by banging his staff on the the floor, had set up that unnerving barrage of echoes. Bran consoled himself that at least this time he'd be alone. He would move carefully, making no sound. That way, the cairn would remain silent.
He was wrong.
As soon as he reached the shelter of the entrance stoop, Bran heard it: an immense, liquid moaning.
The sound was so deep in pitch it was scarcely sound at all. It flowed out of the cairn like thick tar.
When the wind gusted, it grew immeasurably louder.
Bran quickly decided the wind was the cause of it: the air moving past the mouth of the cairn made a hooting sound, like a hunter blowing air across his cupped hands to mimic the call of an owl.
It was a deduction worthy of Talus himself.
It didn't make Bran feel any less terrified.
He loitered outside the entrance. If he was going to run away, now was the time to do it. Everyone was busy at the feast; the rest of the village was deserted. Bran was confident he could find his way back through the maze. He'd even worked out that the tide would be low enough for him to cross back over the causeway.
But that would mean letting Talus down.
Did that matter, when he was planning to leave his friend anyway?
He continued to dither until eventually someone spoke in his head. It was a voice that came to him occasionally, usually in times of great trial when the weight of the world seemed to press down hard on his tired bones.
It was Keyli's voice.
'Stay, Bran,' she said. 'You can't leave him without saying goodbye.'
Bran set courage
Talus pushed Arak's hand gently away. 'It is just a story,' he said.
Arak shuffled his buttocks on the hard ground. He scratched the back of his neck. Presently, he spoke again.
'I don't know what to do.' He looked across to where his brothers were feasting. 'None of us do. Can you make it right?'
'I will do what I can,' said Talus. 'But only if the king-to-be wills it.'
'Tharn will look after us. He always does. It's the way of Creyak that he should be king now.
Nothing can stop that.'
Arak continued to fidget. His eyes continued to rove. He looked lost.
'There is a reason for everything,' said Talus. 'Even death.'
'Death comes for a reason?' said Arak.
'I believe so.'
'It's hard to believe it.'
'Yes, it is.'
'Death brings more than just grief,' said Bran. 'It brings a need to know the truth. A need to close ... Talus, how did you describe it to me?'
'To close the past,' said the bard.
'Closing,' murmured Arak.
'Knowing the truth closes the door that lets in the darkness,' said Talus. 'This is something time has taught me. It is why I do what I do.'
'And what's that?'
'I find truth where there appears to be none.'
'So ... you will help?' said Arak. 'You will work to make this right? To make this man answer for what he has done?'
'I will work to uncover the truth. If that is what you consider to be "right", then the answer to your question is yes.'
Arak leaped to his feet, suddenly grinning. 'That's all I wanted to know!'
With that, he ran off into the throng.
'Poor boy,' said Bran. 'He's lost.'
'Death brings trials, Bran. You know that.'
Despite the blazing heat of the fire, Bran shivered. 'Yes,' he said, 'I do.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
As the evening went on, fermented drinks were passed around and the proceedings grew increasingly unruly. At a wink from Talus, Bran started groaning and rubbing his belly. Tharn's change of heart meant he no longer needed a guard so nobody protested when he made his excuses and retired from the arena.
He went straight to the cairn.
Talus had already taken great delight in explaining to Bran about the cairn's design.
'It is cunningly built,' the bard had said. 'Its walls shape any sounds that are made inside it.
Imagine! A simple footstep becomes the grunt of a sleeping giant. A single human voice swells up until it becomes the roar of an angry mob.'
Well, that explained how Mishina, simply by banging his staff on the the floor, had set up that unnerving barrage of echoes. Bran consoled himself that at least this time he'd be alone. He would move carefully, making no sound. That way, the cairn would remain silent.
He was wrong.
As soon as he reached the shelter of the entrance stoop, Bran heard it: an immense, liquid moaning.
The sound was so deep in pitch it was scarcely sound at all. It flowed out of the cairn like thick tar.
When the wind gusted, it grew immeasurably louder.
Bran quickly decided the wind was the cause of it: the air moving past the mouth of the cairn made a hooting sound, like a hunter blowing air across his cupped hands to mimic the call of an owl.
It was a deduction worthy of Talus himself.
It didn't make Bran feel any less terrified.
He loitered outside the entrance. If he was going to run away, now was the time to do it. Everyone was busy at the feast; the rest of the village was deserted. Bran was confident he could find his way back through the maze. He'd even worked out that the tide would be low enough for him to cross back over the causeway.
But that would mean letting Talus down.
Did that matter, when he was planning to leave his friend anyway?
He continued to dither until eventually someone spoke in his head. It was a voice that came to him occasionally, usually in times of great trial when the weight of the world seemed to press down hard on his tired bones.
It was Keyli's voice.
'Stay, Bran,' she said. 'You can't leave him without saying goodbye.'
Bran set courage
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