Read Online The Hawk Eternal by David Gemmell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Gemmell
Tags: Fantasy
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his chest, and slept deep and dreamlessly until about two hours before dawn when Caswallon gently shook him awake. Gaelen opened his eyes. Above him knelt Caswallon, a finger held to his lips, commanding silence. Gaelen rose swiftly. Caswallon pointed to the pup and the boy picked it up, tucking it into his tunic. The clansman filled Gaelen's bed with brush and covered it with a blanket. Then he added fuel to the fire before moving into the darkness of the woods. He stopped by a low, dense bush in sight of the clearing and the flickering fire.
Putting his face close to Gaelen's ear, he whispered, 'Crawl into the bush and curl up. Make no sound and move not at all. If the pup stirs-kill it!'
'I am willing to fight,' whispered Gaelen.
'Willing - but not yet ready,' said Caswallon. 'Now do as I bid.'
Dropping to his knees Gaelen crawled into the bush, pushing aside the branches and wrapping himself in the cloak Caswallon had given him. He waited with heart hammering, his breath seeming as loud as the Attafoss thunder.
Caswallon had disappeared.
For more than an hour there was no sign of hostile movement in the woods. Gaelen was cramped and stiff, and the pup did stir against him. Gently he stroked the black and grey head. The tiny hound yawned and fell asleep. Gaelen smiled - then froze.
A dark shadow had detached itself from the trees not ten paces from the bush. Moonlight glistened on an iron-rimmed helm and flashed from a sword-blade in the man's hand.
The warrior crept to the edge of the clearing, lifted his sword and waved it, signalling his companions. His view partly screened by leaves and branches, Gaelen could just make out the assault on the camp. Three warriors ran across the clearing, slashing their swords into the built-up blankets.
As the boy watched the Aenir drew back, realising they had been fooled. No word passed between them, but they began to search the surrounding trees.
Gaelen was terrified. The bush stood alone, out in the open, plainly in sight of the three hunters. Why did Caswallon leave him in such an exposed place? He toyed with the idea of crawling clear and running, but they were too close.
One of the warriors began to search at the far side of the clearing, stepping into the screen of gorse. Gaelen's eyes opened wide as
Caswallon rose from the ground behind the warrior, clamped a hand over his mouth, and sliced his dagger across the man's throat. Releasing the body, he turned and ducked back into the gorse.
Unsuspecting, the remaining hunters checked to the west and east. Finding nothing, they moved towards the bush where Gaelen sat rigid with fear.
The first warrior, a burly man in bearskin tunic and leather breeches, turned to the second, a tall, lean figure with braided black hair.
'Fetch Karis,' said the first. The warrior moved back towards the clearing, while the leader walked towards Gaelen's hiding place. The boy watched in amazement. The man never once looked down; it was as if he and the bush were invisible.
The warrior was so close that Gaelen could see only his leather-clad legs and the high, laced boots he wore. He did not dare look up. Suddenly the man's body slumped beside the bush. Gaelen started violently, but stopped himself from screaming. The Aenir lay facing him, his dead eyes open, his neck leaking blood on the soft earth.
The dead man began to move like a snake, only backwards. Gaelen looked up. Caswallon had the man by the feet and was pulling him into the undergrowth. Then, dropping the body, the clansman vanished once more into the trees.
The last Aenir warrior, sword in hand, stepped back into the clearing. 'Asta!' he called. 'Karis is dead. Come back here.'
Caswallon's voice sounded, the words spoken coldly. 'You're all alone, my bonny.'
The warrior spun and leapt to the attack, longsword raised. Leaning back, Caswallon swivelled his quarterstaff stabbing it forward like a
Putting his face close to Gaelen's ear, he whispered, 'Crawl into the bush and curl up. Make no sound and move not at all. If the pup stirs-kill it!'
'I am willing to fight,' whispered Gaelen.
'Willing - but not yet ready,' said Caswallon. 'Now do as I bid.'
Dropping to his knees Gaelen crawled into the bush, pushing aside the branches and wrapping himself in the cloak Caswallon had given him. He waited with heart hammering, his breath seeming as loud as the Attafoss thunder.
Caswallon had disappeared.
For more than an hour there was no sign of hostile movement in the woods. Gaelen was cramped and stiff, and the pup did stir against him. Gently he stroked the black and grey head. The tiny hound yawned and fell asleep. Gaelen smiled - then froze.
A dark shadow had detached itself from the trees not ten paces from the bush. Moonlight glistened on an iron-rimmed helm and flashed from a sword-blade in the man's hand.
The warrior crept to the edge of the clearing, lifted his sword and waved it, signalling his companions. His view partly screened by leaves and branches, Gaelen could just make out the assault on the camp. Three warriors ran across the clearing, slashing their swords into the built-up blankets.
As the boy watched the Aenir drew back, realising they had been fooled. No word passed between them, but they began to search the surrounding trees.
Gaelen was terrified. The bush stood alone, out in the open, plainly in sight of the three hunters. Why did Caswallon leave him in such an exposed place? He toyed with the idea of crawling clear and running, but they were too close.
One of the warriors began to search at the far side of the clearing, stepping into the screen of gorse. Gaelen's eyes opened wide as
Caswallon rose from the ground behind the warrior, clamped a hand over his mouth, and sliced his dagger across the man's throat. Releasing the body, he turned and ducked back into the gorse.
Unsuspecting, the remaining hunters checked to the west and east. Finding nothing, they moved towards the bush where Gaelen sat rigid with fear.
The first warrior, a burly man in bearskin tunic and leather breeches, turned to the second, a tall, lean figure with braided black hair.
'Fetch Karis,' said the first. The warrior moved back towards the clearing, while the leader walked towards Gaelen's hiding place. The boy watched in amazement. The man never once looked down; it was as if he and the bush were invisible.
The warrior was so close that Gaelen could see only his leather-clad legs and the high, laced boots he wore. He did not dare look up. Suddenly the man's body slumped beside the bush. Gaelen started violently, but stopped himself from screaming. The Aenir lay facing him, his dead eyes open, his neck leaking blood on the soft earth.
The dead man began to move like a snake, only backwards. Gaelen looked up. Caswallon had the man by the feet and was pulling him into the undergrowth. Then, dropping the body, the clansman vanished once more into the trees.
The last Aenir warrior, sword in hand, stepped back into the clearing. 'Asta!' he called. 'Karis is dead. Come back here.'
Caswallon's voice sounded, the words spoken coldly. 'You're all alone, my bonny.'
The warrior spun and leapt to the attack, longsword raised. Leaning back, Caswallon swivelled his quarterstaff stabbing it forward like a
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