Read Online The Grieving Tree: The Dragon Below Book II by Don Bassingthwaite - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Don Bassingthwaite
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back swiftly.
Then Orshok’s voice rippled through the air in another desperate prayer. The afternoon light vanished in the roiling cloud of thick mist that took shape all around them.
“Grandmother Wolf!” Geth’s curse was lost in the shouts of alarm from the people around. The shifter reached out and grabbed the dim shape that was Ashi and pulled her with him toward Orshok. The young orc loomed out of the mist like a ghost.
Geth grabbed him, too. “Move! This isn’t going to stop Vennet!”
“He can’t see us.”
“He can’t see us
yet,”
Geth told him. The fear of the crowd gave him a desperate idea. The body of the heron killed by Orshok’s eagles lay nearby. Pushing Ashi and Orshok toward the right side of the plaza, he scooped up the dead bird and hurled it off through the mist in the opposite direction. There was dull thud and a startled shout as it hit someone.
An instant later, the mist across that side of the plaza vanished in a howling rush of wind as Vennet, drawn by the sudden cry, unleashed the power of his dragonmark.
The blast of wind drew out more cries from the startled people in the plaza. Abruptly, the shifter, the hunter, and the druid weren’t the only ones running away from Vennet. Geth kept a tight grip on Orshok and Ashi, keeping them ahead of him as bodies packed around them in the remaining mist. “Stay low!” he said. “Keep moving with the crowd!”
He heard splashes nearby as people fell off the edge of the plaza in their haste to flee, but up ahead the shouting crowd actually seemed to be condensing. He guided the others that way, pushing his way through the noisy crush to take a place just in front of a wide-eyed porter jogging along with a tall basket strapped to his back. Two merchants squeezed him on the left, a ragged beggar on the right. The mist lightened as they approached the edge of the cloud, then thinned and vanished as they broke clear.
They were in the middle of the bridge over the canal, just part of a frightened throng fleeing magic and the threat of violence in the plaza.
Geth felt Orshok stiffen. “Geth, this is the way to the herb market!”
“I know,” said the shifter. “Brace yourselves and keep moving.” He glanced at the men around him, then leaned toward the closer of the two merchants. “Sorry for this,” he said.
The man barely had time to give him a curious look before Geth hooked a foot around his leg and swept it out from under him. The merchant flailed and went down, clutching at his companion and pulling him off balance as well. Geth kept moving even as the porter staggered to avoid the fallen men, knocking another person to the ground and leaving his tall load swaying. The porter tried to right himself—and failed. His basket tipped and fat green melons flew out, bouncing on the bridge and tripping still more people. Those who could see what had happened tried to slow down and dodge around the fallen people, but the press of the crowd didn’t let up. New shouts of confusion and fear rang out.
Geth caught Ashi and Orshok and pushed them on through the milling mob and off the bridge, then, as the street opened into the edge of a vast market, out of the crowd and into the shadow of a merchant’s stall. Safe for a moment, he took a deep breath. “Did it work?” he gasped.
Ashi peered cautiously back the way they had come.
“Rond betch
, what a mess! Vennet’s not going to get through that fast!”
“Where is he?” asked Geth.
“The mist is lifting.” She paused, then added, “He’s still on the plaza, looking like he’s trying to decide what to do.”
“Herons?”
Ashi’s eyes turned to the sky. “None close.”
Geth sagged back. He released his hold on the shifting and its rush of invincibility bled out of him. The sting of the scratches inflicted by the heron’s talons faded, eased by the fading power. Geth let his breath out in a grateful hiss and looked at Ashi and Orshok. The hunter was still tense, her
Then Orshok’s voice rippled through the air in another desperate prayer. The afternoon light vanished in the roiling cloud of thick mist that took shape all around them.
“Grandmother Wolf!” Geth’s curse was lost in the shouts of alarm from the people around. The shifter reached out and grabbed the dim shape that was Ashi and pulled her with him toward Orshok. The young orc loomed out of the mist like a ghost.
Geth grabbed him, too. “Move! This isn’t going to stop Vennet!”
“He can’t see us.”
“He can’t see us
yet,”
Geth told him. The fear of the crowd gave him a desperate idea. The body of the heron killed by Orshok’s eagles lay nearby. Pushing Ashi and Orshok toward the right side of the plaza, he scooped up the dead bird and hurled it off through the mist in the opposite direction. There was dull thud and a startled shout as it hit someone.
An instant later, the mist across that side of the plaza vanished in a howling rush of wind as Vennet, drawn by the sudden cry, unleashed the power of his dragonmark.
The blast of wind drew out more cries from the startled people in the plaza. Abruptly, the shifter, the hunter, and the druid weren’t the only ones running away from Vennet. Geth kept a tight grip on Orshok and Ashi, keeping them ahead of him as bodies packed around them in the remaining mist. “Stay low!” he said. “Keep moving with the crowd!”
He heard splashes nearby as people fell off the edge of the plaza in their haste to flee, but up ahead the shouting crowd actually seemed to be condensing. He guided the others that way, pushing his way through the noisy crush to take a place just in front of a wide-eyed porter jogging along with a tall basket strapped to his back. Two merchants squeezed him on the left, a ragged beggar on the right. The mist lightened as they approached the edge of the cloud, then thinned and vanished as they broke clear.
They were in the middle of the bridge over the canal, just part of a frightened throng fleeing magic and the threat of violence in the plaza.
Geth felt Orshok stiffen. “Geth, this is the way to the herb market!”
“I know,” said the shifter. “Brace yourselves and keep moving.” He glanced at the men around him, then leaned toward the closer of the two merchants. “Sorry for this,” he said.
The man barely had time to give him a curious look before Geth hooked a foot around his leg and swept it out from under him. The merchant flailed and went down, clutching at his companion and pulling him off balance as well. Geth kept moving even as the porter staggered to avoid the fallen men, knocking another person to the ground and leaving his tall load swaying. The porter tried to right himself—and failed. His basket tipped and fat green melons flew out, bouncing on the bridge and tripping still more people. Those who could see what had happened tried to slow down and dodge around the fallen people, but the press of the crowd didn’t let up. New shouts of confusion and fear rang out.
Geth caught Ashi and Orshok and pushed them on through the milling mob and off the bridge, then, as the street opened into the edge of a vast market, out of the crowd and into the shadow of a merchant’s stall. Safe for a moment, he took a deep breath. “Did it work?” he gasped.
Ashi peered cautiously back the way they had come.
“Rond betch
, what a mess! Vennet’s not going to get through that fast!”
“Where is he?” asked Geth.
“The mist is lifting.” She paused, then added, “He’s still on the plaza, looking like he’s trying to decide what to do.”
“Herons?”
Ashi’s eyes turned to the sky. “None close.”
Geth sagged back. He released his hold on the shifting and its rush of invincibility bled out of him. The sting of the scratches inflicted by the heron’s talons faded, eased by the fading power. Geth let his breath out in a grateful hiss and looked at Ashi and Orshok. The hunter was still tense, her
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