Read Online The Descent to Madness by Gareth K Pengelly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gareth K Pengelly
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you of that lesson…”
***
Stone would have screamed, but for the throat around his neck, as the bronze dagger swept down to mutilate his face. The pain in his head prohibited any time-slowing antics, but pure instinct and adrenaline led his hands to grab hold of his assailant’s wrist as it descended.
His two hands managed to arrest his foe’s one, briefly, till the Slaver removed his other hand from about Stone’s throat and used that to help force the knife down. The Slaver was bigger, heavier and with the advantage of gravity, and so slowly, inexorably the knife descended to bring about his disfigurement. The noble features of the warrior were twisted into a terrifying mask of bloodlust as his entire being was bent towards nought but the butchery of his enemy’s flesh. The point of the knife pricked Stone’s cheek, just below his left eye, slowly piercing his skin, millimetre by millimetre; the blood pounded in his ears, every pulse a sharp stab of pain, as the barbarian sought to duplicate the cut that bedecked Stone’s other cheek.
Stone gazed into that savage visage, fear clutching his innards in its icy grip, just as it did after the mauling at the hands (or rather claws) of the bear. And just as before, something reminded him that he had the power to alter his destiny, escape this pain. He always had. Always would. And with that, the fear went, just as it did before. And that latent power surged once more, to the fore.
Even as the muscles in his arms strained and buckled before the onslaught, his consciousness seemed to expand, to reach down into the ground beneath him. He could feel the topsoil, compacted hard on top, but softer underneath, wriggling with life despite the harsh winter above. Further down, he could feel the thick clay, then further still the rugged bedrock, within which rushed underground streams of mineral-rich water. Here and there, veins of metal glinted in his mind, copper, tin. Even further down than that, he could feel a distant and immeasurable warmth, but something told him to venture no further, that he could sate his thirst for power with what he’d tasted already.
As though he were a man dying in the heat of the desert and stumbling upon an oasis of cold and clear water, he supped from the rich, minerally goodness of the earth, feeling nutrients and pure, natural vitality flowing into his every cell, replacing everything that had depleted, suffusing him with renewed energy and strength.
His mind returned from the depths of the earth to find only a moment having passed, the tip of the bronze dagger still pressing sharply, but shallowly into the soft flesh of his face, dragging slowly downwards to form a jagged line of searing pain. Having tasted the tin and copper of the underground, he was surprised to find the touch of the dagger intensely familiar, almost as though he were tasting a favourite food that he’d not had for a while.
He hadn’t realised that bronze was a combination of the two metals.
It was while he was almost casually pondering this that he slowly prised his enemy’s hands away from him, the dagger leaving his cheek and a rivulet of blood welling up where it had nicked him. His strength was refreshed, his muscles still echoing to his brush with the eternal unyielding earth and he levered the powerful warrior away from him with nary a grunt of effort.
The barbarian’s eyes widened with confusion, once more bewildered by the abilities of the savage, but he had little time to wonder, for soon as there was room between the two, Stone brought his bound feet up to the Slaver’s mid-section and kicked with all his might. The warrior went flying through the air, the power of the kick akin to that of a horse, before landing slap bang in the middle of the campfire,
***
Stone would have screamed, but for the throat around his neck, as the bronze dagger swept down to mutilate his face. The pain in his head prohibited any time-slowing antics, but pure instinct and adrenaline led his hands to grab hold of his assailant’s wrist as it descended.
His two hands managed to arrest his foe’s one, briefly, till the Slaver removed his other hand from about Stone’s throat and used that to help force the knife down. The Slaver was bigger, heavier and with the advantage of gravity, and so slowly, inexorably the knife descended to bring about his disfigurement. The noble features of the warrior were twisted into a terrifying mask of bloodlust as his entire being was bent towards nought but the butchery of his enemy’s flesh. The point of the knife pricked Stone’s cheek, just below his left eye, slowly piercing his skin, millimetre by millimetre; the blood pounded in his ears, every pulse a sharp stab of pain, as the barbarian sought to duplicate the cut that bedecked Stone’s other cheek.
Stone gazed into that savage visage, fear clutching his innards in its icy grip, just as it did after the mauling at the hands (or rather claws) of the bear. And just as before, something reminded him that he had the power to alter his destiny, escape this pain. He always had. Always would. And with that, the fear went, just as it did before. And that latent power surged once more, to the fore.
Even as the muscles in his arms strained and buckled before the onslaught, his consciousness seemed to expand, to reach down into the ground beneath him. He could feel the topsoil, compacted hard on top, but softer underneath, wriggling with life despite the harsh winter above. Further down, he could feel the thick clay, then further still the rugged bedrock, within which rushed underground streams of mineral-rich water. Here and there, veins of metal glinted in his mind, copper, tin. Even further down than that, he could feel a distant and immeasurable warmth, but something told him to venture no further, that he could sate his thirst for power with what he’d tasted already.
As though he were a man dying in the heat of the desert and stumbling upon an oasis of cold and clear water, he supped from the rich, minerally goodness of the earth, feeling nutrients and pure, natural vitality flowing into his every cell, replacing everything that had depleted, suffusing him with renewed energy and strength.
His mind returned from the depths of the earth to find only a moment having passed, the tip of the bronze dagger still pressing sharply, but shallowly into the soft flesh of his face, dragging slowly downwards to form a jagged line of searing pain. Having tasted the tin and copper of the underground, he was surprised to find the touch of the dagger intensely familiar, almost as though he were tasting a favourite food that he’d not had for a while.
He hadn’t realised that bronze was a combination of the two metals.
It was while he was almost casually pondering this that he slowly prised his enemy’s hands away from him, the dagger leaving his cheek and a rivulet of blood welling up where it had nicked him. His strength was refreshed, his muscles still echoing to his brush with the eternal unyielding earth and he levered the powerful warrior away from him with nary a grunt of effort.
The barbarian’s eyes widened with confusion, once more bewildered by the abilities of the savage, but he had little time to wonder, for soon as there was room between the two, Stone brought his bound feet up to the Slaver’s mid-section and kicked with all his might. The warrior went flying through the air, the power of the kick akin to that of a horse, before landing slap bang in the middle of the campfire,
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