Read Online The Gates of Winter by Mark Anthony - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mark Anthony
Ads: Link
gone far. The voice that spoke through the device implied that the one called Hudson had not yet returned to their base, wherever it is. No doubt he wishes to stay close to the castle to see the result of his handiwork.”
The Spider and the
T'gol
exchanged looks, then both vanished into the dim air.
“Who else thinks their habit of disappearing is getting a little annoying?” Falken said.
A number of hands went up around the table.
The bard sighed. “Come on, Melia, let's do our own vanishing act.”
The two rose and departed the hall, along with Sir Tarus. Boreas was asking Travis more questions about Earth as they walked from the hall, with Beltan, Durge, and Teravian following behind. Grace picked up Tira's limp form and headed after them, along with Sareth, Lirith, and Aryn.
Grace had just reached the doors of the great hall—the others had already passed through—when she heard a snarl echo off stone. It was like the feral sound of a wolf, but higher-pitched, and full of malice. There were shouts, and the ringing of a sword being drawn.
“Travis, get back!” came Beltan's voice through the doors.
Grace set Tira down. “Keep her safe,” she said to Lirith, then dashed through the doors.
She turned to her left and saw Travis and King Boreas with their backs to the wall. A spindly gray form wove toward them, maw open. Boreas slashed with his knife, and Travis gripped his stiletto before him, the gem in its hilt blazing crimson. They were holding the
feydrim
off, but just barely; the knives were pitifully small.
On the other side of the broad corridor, Durge, Beltan, and Teravian had been cornered by two more of the monsters. Beltan stood in front of Teravian, pressing the prince back against the wall. Like Boreas, he had only a small knife, but Durge gripped his Embarran greatsword in his hands. Only there wasn't enough room to get a proper swing. The two
feydrim
hissed and spat, looking for an opening.
Grace knew she should feel fear. Instead outrage rose within her. Before she thought about what she was doing, she had drawn Fellring from the scabbard belted at her side. The slender blade gleamed in the dim light, the runes on the flat undulating like things alive.
“Get away from them,” she commanded.
Snarling, the two
feydrim
closest to her turned, glaring at her with yellow eyes. Her hand sweated around the sword's grip. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea after all.
Before she could move, Durge let out a roar. The two
feydrim
had scuttled a few feet toward Grace, and now he had room for a proper swing. The beasts tried to leap aside, but Durge's sword caught one of them on the neck, and the thing's head flew across the corridor. The blade continued its arc, cutting a deep gash in the other
feydrim's
belly. Its black guts spilled onto the floor. The thing kicked and whined, then went still.
The last remaining beast lunged at Boreas, going for his throat. Travis thrust with his stiletto. The move was unskilled, but the blade was sharp, and it pricked the
feydrim
. The beast hissed and turned on Travis. By then Durge had crossed the corridor in three strides. He lunged, and his sword pierced the
feydrim
, passing entirely through its body. The light flickered in its eyes, then went dark.
Grace thrust Fellring into its scabbard and hurried to the king. “Your Majesty, are you all right?”
“I am, but that stone hit me harder on the head than I thought. I didn't even see the beast leap at me from that doorway there. Luckily Goodman Wilder did. He drew his blade and kept its jaws from closing around my neck.” He gave Travis a solemn look. “I owe you my life.”
Travis took a step back. “Not me. It was Durge who killed them. He was the one who—Durge?”
Grace turned around, and her blood froze. Durge's face was pallid and lined with pain, and he was gasping for breath. He leaned on his sword and clutched at his chest with his left hand.
“Durge, what's wrong?” Grace said,
The Spider and the
T'gol
exchanged looks, then both vanished into the dim air.
“Who else thinks their habit of disappearing is getting a little annoying?” Falken said.
A number of hands went up around the table.
The bard sighed. “Come on, Melia, let's do our own vanishing act.”
The two rose and departed the hall, along with Sir Tarus. Boreas was asking Travis more questions about Earth as they walked from the hall, with Beltan, Durge, and Teravian following behind. Grace picked up Tira's limp form and headed after them, along with Sareth, Lirith, and Aryn.
Grace had just reached the doors of the great hall—the others had already passed through—when she heard a snarl echo off stone. It was like the feral sound of a wolf, but higher-pitched, and full of malice. There were shouts, and the ringing of a sword being drawn.
“Travis, get back!” came Beltan's voice through the doors.
Grace set Tira down. “Keep her safe,” she said to Lirith, then dashed through the doors.
She turned to her left and saw Travis and King Boreas with their backs to the wall. A spindly gray form wove toward them, maw open. Boreas slashed with his knife, and Travis gripped his stiletto before him, the gem in its hilt blazing crimson. They were holding the
feydrim
off, but just barely; the knives were pitifully small.
On the other side of the broad corridor, Durge, Beltan, and Teravian had been cornered by two more of the monsters. Beltan stood in front of Teravian, pressing the prince back against the wall. Like Boreas, he had only a small knife, but Durge gripped his Embarran greatsword in his hands. Only there wasn't enough room to get a proper swing. The two
feydrim
hissed and spat, looking for an opening.
Grace knew she should feel fear. Instead outrage rose within her. Before she thought about what she was doing, she had drawn Fellring from the scabbard belted at her side. The slender blade gleamed in the dim light, the runes on the flat undulating like things alive.
“Get away from them,” she commanded.
Snarling, the two
feydrim
closest to her turned, glaring at her with yellow eyes. Her hand sweated around the sword's grip. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea after all.
Before she could move, Durge let out a roar. The two
feydrim
had scuttled a few feet toward Grace, and now he had room for a proper swing. The beasts tried to leap aside, but Durge's sword caught one of them on the neck, and the thing's head flew across the corridor. The blade continued its arc, cutting a deep gash in the other
feydrim's
belly. Its black guts spilled onto the floor. The thing kicked and whined, then went still.
The last remaining beast lunged at Boreas, going for his throat. Travis thrust with his stiletto. The move was unskilled, but the blade was sharp, and it pricked the
feydrim
. The beast hissed and turned on Travis. By then Durge had crossed the corridor in three strides. He lunged, and his sword pierced the
feydrim
, passing entirely through its body. The light flickered in its eyes, then went dark.
Grace thrust Fellring into its scabbard and hurried to the king. “Your Majesty, are you all right?”
“I am, but that stone hit me harder on the head than I thought. I didn't even see the beast leap at me from that doorway there. Luckily Goodman Wilder did. He drew his blade and kept its jaws from closing around my neck.” He gave Travis a solemn look. “I owe you my life.”
Travis took a step back. “Not me. It was Durge who killed them. He was the one who—Durge?”
Grace turned around, and her blood froze. Durge's face was pallid and lined with pain, and he was gasping for breath. He leaned on his sword and clutched at his chest with his left hand.
“Durge, what's wrong?” Grace said,
Similar Books
