Read Online The Defiler by Steven Savile - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Steven Savile
Tags: Science-Fiction
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his flesh even though they appeared healed here?
The pain itself lingered even if the wounds did not. He felt it inside, beneath the skin, as though he had been cut and cut and cut, each one searing as he made even the slightest move. Getting out of Purgadair was not going to be a simple case of running - he wasn't even sure he'd be up to walking out of the hellish city.
"I'm not being funny, but these faggots are going to burn out soon and then the bugs will be back with a vengeance, so how about we don't sit around here contemplating miracles and instead run for it?"
He held up a hand for Ukko to help him to his feet, and had to stifle a scream as he was tugged upright.
"He isn't here, is he?" Ukko said, casting an erratic gaze left and right as though trying to take everything in at once. "It was a trick. The Morrigan wanted us here so she could do whatever she has to do without us around to interfere."
Do you believe that, son of the Sessair? Truly? Do you believe yourself so important I would need to dispose of you to carry out my schemes? Vanity is the last resort of the fool. Find the Skinless Man for yourself, your people. He didn't know if he imagined the Crone's denial, but he found himself believing it. A being of her power would not need to trick them into some foolish quest - there had to be more to it than that. There always was with the Crone; deceit came as naturally to the ancient one as did any kind of truth. But, he suspected, the promise she had extracted from him was worth too much to her to waste so frivolously. Good, use your brain, barbarian.
"He's here," Sláine said, knowing it to be true. "But he isn't here . What did the Crone say? What were her exact words?"
"I don't remember," the dwarf admitted.
I do, the voice goaded. A city on the edge of Nàimhdiel, a harsh and utterly barren desert. The Skinless Man you seek resides there, but beware child of Danu, this is a cruel place, this city. The Crone's words rose in his memory, the subtlety of the sentence had misdirected their search.
"He is in the desert, not the city."
My clever, clever barbarian, the voice of the Crone mocked. Learned to listen at last.
Sláine took one of the burning brands; more than half of it was charred to the breaking point. "We need more, before these burn out."
Ukko nodded and gestured for Sláine to follow him into the nearest house. "Go crazy," he waved towards the wooden chairs and began rifling through his pack for the flammable grease. Sláine shattered three of the chairs, wrenching the legs away from the rest of the frames and passing them to the dwarf. Ukko liberally applied the grease and stuffed two into his belt, making sure he didn't hold the naked flame too close. Sláine took the remaining staves, lit one on the burned-out torch Ukko had used to save him and stowed the rest.
They went back out into the street.
The vile insectoid creatures lined the rooftops, antennae twitching as their multi-faceted eyes caught and reflected and refracted the light from the twin suns.
"We're going to walk out of here nice and slow," said Sláine, wincing as he shouldered Brain-Biter. "No sudden movements. We don't want to set them off."
Ukko nodded without saying a word.
They walked slowly side by side down the narrow street. His skin crawled, prickling with goosebumps. The hair on the nape of his neck rose like hackles as they passed the first of the lurking insects. The creature's antennae began to twitch furiously, its mandibles grinding together coarsely.
"Just keep walking," said Sláine, advice that was easier said than followed. His eyes roved from high to low, left to right, trying to keep all of the angles covered in case of sudden ambush, but it was impossible.
One of the monstrosities leaned low, distended jaws crunching towards them. Thick yellowish saliva drooled from the fangs, sizzling as it hit the floor. Sláine realised then what had caused the pinhole wounds that had burned into his arm.
The pain itself lingered even if the wounds did not. He felt it inside, beneath the skin, as though he had been cut and cut and cut, each one searing as he made even the slightest move. Getting out of Purgadair was not going to be a simple case of running - he wasn't even sure he'd be up to walking out of the hellish city.
"I'm not being funny, but these faggots are going to burn out soon and then the bugs will be back with a vengeance, so how about we don't sit around here contemplating miracles and instead run for it?"
He held up a hand for Ukko to help him to his feet, and had to stifle a scream as he was tugged upright.
"He isn't here, is he?" Ukko said, casting an erratic gaze left and right as though trying to take everything in at once. "It was a trick. The Morrigan wanted us here so she could do whatever she has to do without us around to interfere."
Do you believe that, son of the Sessair? Truly? Do you believe yourself so important I would need to dispose of you to carry out my schemes? Vanity is the last resort of the fool. Find the Skinless Man for yourself, your people. He didn't know if he imagined the Crone's denial, but he found himself believing it. A being of her power would not need to trick them into some foolish quest - there had to be more to it than that. There always was with the Crone; deceit came as naturally to the ancient one as did any kind of truth. But, he suspected, the promise she had extracted from him was worth too much to her to waste so frivolously. Good, use your brain, barbarian.
"He's here," Sláine said, knowing it to be true. "But he isn't here . What did the Crone say? What were her exact words?"
"I don't remember," the dwarf admitted.
I do, the voice goaded. A city on the edge of Nàimhdiel, a harsh and utterly barren desert. The Skinless Man you seek resides there, but beware child of Danu, this is a cruel place, this city. The Crone's words rose in his memory, the subtlety of the sentence had misdirected their search.
"He is in the desert, not the city."
My clever, clever barbarian, the voice of the Crone mocked. Learned to listen at last.
Sláine took one of the burning brands; more than half of it was charred to the breaking point. "We need more, before these burn out."
Ukko nodded and gestured for Sláine to follow him into the nearest house. "Go crazy," he waved towards the wooden chairs and began rifling through his pack for the flammable grease. Sláine shattered three of the chairs, wrenching the legs away from the rest of the frames and passing them to the dwarf. Ukko liberally applied the grease and stuffed two into his belt, making sure he didn't hold the naked flame too close. Sláine took the remaining staves, lit one on the burned-out torch Ukko had used to save him and stowed the rest.
They went back out into the street.
The vile insectoid creatures lined the rooftops, antennae twitching as their multi-faceted eyes caught and reflected and refracted the light from the twin suns.
"We're going to walk out of here nice and slow," said Sláine, wincing as he shouldered Brain-Biter. "No sudden movements. We don't want to set them off."
Ukko nodded without saying a word.
They walked slowly side by side down the narrow street. His skin crawled, prickling with goosebumps. The hair on the nape of his neck rose like hackles as they passed the first of the lurking insects. The creature's antennae began to twitch furiously, its mandibles grinding together coarsely.
"Just keep walking," said Sláine, advice that was easier said than followed. His eyes roved from high to low, left to right, trying to keep all of the angles covered in case of sudden ambush, but it was impossible.
One of the monstrosities leaned low, distended jaws crunching towards them. Thick yellowish saliva drooled from the fangs, sizzling as it hit the floor. Sláine realised then what had caused the pinhole wounds that had burned into his arm.
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