Read Online The Compass Key (Book 5) by Charles E. Yallowitz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles E. Yallowitz
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on Mira’s face as the iron chain entombs her, leaving only her mouth free. The barbs pulse as if they’re alive and gently cut into their prisoner’s ghostly flesh. With the grating sound of metal on ice-covered stone, the mass of chains is yanked into the deepest shadows. Screams of pain and fear rip through the air until they end with a strangled whimper.
“Guilt can be so annoying,” says a bored, female voice. A dark tan woman with black hair and indistinct features steps into the light. Curled around her body is the barbed chain with its club-like end dragging on the floor. Hovering above the woman’s head is the sickle end of the chain weapon. The curved blade bobs and weaves in the air like a hungry serpent, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.
“Who are you?” Sari asks, backing to the far side of the barrier.
“I guess I’m Kira Grasdon,” the woman answers as she wraps her kusari-gama around her left arm. The odd figure slams the metal club end into the barrier, shattering the magical protection. “I feel rather strange because I don’t have much of a face. It seems our mutual lover’s descriptions have fallen on deaf ears. Either that or you don’t wish to know what I really look like.”
“Mira was guilt,” Sari timidly whispers. She feels around her skirts for her daggers, but all of her sheathes are empty. “What are you?”
Kira grins with a barely recognizable mouth and reveals a void where her teeth should be. “I’m your fear, little gypsy.”
3
Delvin groans as he wakes up with a sore neck and an autumn chill in his muscles. A small weight on his chest jolts him out of his stupor, causing him to sit up and grab for his longsword. He pauses when he hears the high-pitched yelp of Fizzle, who tumbles onto the moist ground. The drite has a partially eaten green apple in his mouth and his tail is coiled around three more. Delvin glances around the small campsite to see everyone staring at him from across the smoldering remains of the fire.
“Sorry, Fizzle,” he apologizes in a hoarse voice. He tries to clear his throat, but it feels raw from the Ifrit mead last night. “Can I have some water please?”
“Here,” Nyx whispers, moving to take a seat next to the warrior. She hands him a wate rskin, which he greedily drinks the soothing liquid. “Drinking like that is what shredded your throat in the first place.”
“Don’t remind me. Most nights I can hold my liquor as well as a dwarf, but that stuff destroyed me. I think I’ll wait before I eat breakfast. Be rather embarrassing to enter the battle looking like I’m diseased.”
“Then, let’s pack up and move,” Luke says with a mouth full of trail rations. He swallows the barely palpable food and gets to his feet. “Fizzle can lead us to the Lich’s castle and then we can save Sari.”
Timoran puts a hand on Luke’s shoulder and forces him to sit down. “You are forgetting the two armies, the moat monster, possible traps, and the Lich.”
“I’m not forgetting them,” Luke declares, standing up again and licks his lips in anticipation. “I was thinking about it last night while you guy s slept. We’re strong enough to handle this without Selenia. Nyx can take on the armies with her magic while the rest of us rush into the castle.”
“What about the Lich?” Delvin inquires, obviously humoring Luke.
“Timoran and I have defeated him before. The Lich isn’t much of a threat.”
“Fizzle rescue Luke,” the drite interrupts.
“And I merely held the Lich off before we retreated from that cemetery,” Timoran adds.
The forest tracker scowls and kicks at a rock, which bounces off a log and into a nearby pool of murky water. Several times, he opens his mouth to speak and stops. The expression on his face is one of frustration that grows with every silent second. He rubs at the gems in his sabers’ hilts and rapidly bounces on his toes.
“I agree with Luke,” Nyx states. She runs a hand
“Guilt can be so annoying,” says a bored, female voice. A dark tan woman with black hair and indistinct features steps into the light. Curled around her body is the barbed chain with its club-like end dragging on the floor. Hovering above the woman’s head is the sickle end of the chain weapon. The curved blade bobs and weaves in the air like a hungry serpent, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.
“Who are you?” Sari asks, backing to the far side of the barrier.
“I guess I’m Kira Grasdon,” the woman answers as she wraps her kusari-gama around her left arm. The odd figure slams the metal club end into the barrier, shattering the magical protection. “I feel rather strange because I don’t have much of a face. It seems our mutual lover’s descriptions have fallen on deaf ears. Either that or you don’t wish to know what I really look like.”
“Mira was guilt,” Sari timidly whispers. She feels around her skirts for her daggers, but all of her sheathes are empty. “What are you?”
Kira grins with a barely recognizable mouth and reveals a void where her teeth should be. “I’m your fear, little gypsy.”
3
Delvin groans as he wakes up with a sore neck and an autumn chill in his muscles. A small weight on his chest jolts him out of his stupor, causing him to sit up and grab for his longsword. He pauses when he hears the high-pitched yelp of Fizzle, who tumbles onto the moist ground. The drite has a partially eaten green apple in his mouth and his tail is coiled around three more. Delvin glances around the small campsite to see everyone staring at him from across the smoldering remains of the fire.
“Sorry, Fizzle,” he apologizes in a hoarse voice. He tries to clear his throat, but it feels raw from the Ifrit mead last night. “Can I have some water please?”
“Here,” Nyx whispers, moving to take a seat next to the warrior. She hands him a wate rskin, which he greedily drinks the soothing liquid. “Drinking like that is what shredded your throat in the first place.”
“Don’t remind me. Most nights I can hold my liquor as well as a dwarf, but that stuff destroyed me. I think I’ll wait before I eat breakfast. Be rather embarrassing to enter the battle looking like I’m diseased.”
“Then, let’s pack up and move,” Luke says with a mouth full of trail rations. He swallows the barely palpable food and gets to his feet. “Fizzle can lead us to the Lich’s castle and then we can save Sari.”
Timoran puts a hand on Luke’s shoulder and forces him to sit down. “You are forgetting the two armies, the moat monster, possible traps, and the Lich.”
“I’m not forgetting them,” Luke declares, standing up again and licks his lips in anticipation. “I was thinking about it last night while you guy s slept. We’re strong enough to handle this without Selenia. Nyx can take on the armies with her magic while the rest of us rush into the castle.”
“What about the Lich?” Delvin inquires, obviously humoring Luke.
“Timoran and I have defeated him before. The Lich isn’t much of a threat.”
“Fizzle rescue Luke,” the drite interrupts.
“And I merely held the Lich off before we retreated from that cemetery,” Timoran adds.
The forest tracker scowls and kicks at a rock, which bounces off a log and into a nearby pool of murky water. Several times, he opens his mouth to speak and stops. The expression on his face is one of frustration that grows with every silent second. He rubs at the gems in his sabers’ hilts and rapidly bounces on his toes.
“I agree with Luke,” Nyx states. She runs a hand
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