Read Online The Lost Castle by Michael Pryor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Pryor
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the greatest saur were meant for! Great saur dominate the weak, crush those who resist, destroy all enemies, rend them with tooth and claw.
Wargrach had surged ahead of his troops, leading them forward, an unstoppable force.
Then the tunnel erupted.
The sensation was vast, immense, a battering of sight, sound, feeling. Light and heat burst on them in an outrageous assault. Wargrach felt as if he had been slapped with a white-hot sheet of iron, then he was hurled through the air. He remembered touching rock and flame at the same time, seeing a shield slump and melt, hearing shrieks from the saur around him, smelling –
If it weren't for his secret cache of spells, he would have been lost. Blinded, he'd groped in the inner pocket of his jacket and seized the first bottle he touched. He flung it to the rocky floor and he was immediately surrounded by a protective cocoon. He knew it wouldn't last long, but for a moment the heat and noise were gone. Before he could do anything other than gasp for breath, however, a wave of molten rock picked up the cocoon. Wargrach was buffeted and rolled helplessly in the flood. Finally he was spat out of the tunnel onto the rocky slope. The cocoon dissolved and he was left staring at the cascade of lava belching from the tunnel mouth.
He rolled over, was sick, then swooned.
Later, lying on his bed of pain under the stars and clouds, trying to gather what little strength he had left, he finally managed to curse young Adalon of the Eastern Peaks.
The next morning, wet with ashy dew, Wargrach struggled to his feet and lurched away from the smoking mountain.
* * *
Once Adalon had peered inside the cave mouth and reassured himself that their pursuers were gone, they moved a short distance away to a grassy clearing. Targesh gathered some fallen wood from nearby scrubby plants and made a fire, and the three friends prepared a meal.
The moon was rising, huge and golden. By its light, Adalon was able to look out over the valley they had stumbled on. Adalon munched on dried meat he had in his pack. Despite being bruised and slightly toasted, he was amazed at what he saw. Welcome to the Hidden Valley , he thought.
The valley was entirely ringed by jagged mountains. They thrust up like sharp teeth and nowhere could Adalon see a gap in them. Graaldon was the largest of them. It rumbled and smoked constantly, but the wind took the smoke away from the valley, not toward it.
Adalon could see that the valley was narrow, barely a league from side to side. Thick woods started high up on the flanks of the mountains and spread down into the valley itself. He thought he could make out a river, snaking its way along the valley floor, and rocky outcrops pushing up through the forest.
It was on one of these outcrops, out in the middle of the valley, that the Lost Castle stood.
Even at this distance, and at night, Adalon could see that the Lost Castle was graceful. Its towers stood proudly, high above the valley floor. One was much taller than the other three and his gaze was drawn to it. He wondered who had lived there and what they had seen. Did they use it to study the heavens? Or was it a sentry tower to spy out enemies? He yearned to find out.
Adalon bit off another chunk of meat and chewed it thoughtfully. 'How far away is it, Simangee?'
Simangee looked up from the old book. The light of the campfire glittered in her eyes. 'I don't know.'
Adalon nodded, but continued to study his friend after she turned away.
She was still not herself, he was convinced of that. The encounter with the devil cloud had changed her.
'Further than it looks,' Targesh said. He was eating some tree fungus he had found while gathering firewood. He broke the great plates into pieces and ate them with delicate bites of his horned beak.
'A day's walking?' Adalon guessed.
'Yes, but we mustn't travel in the dark,' Simangee said. She shivered.
'Why not?'
'Traiths and screets haunt the valley at night, or so the book says.
Wargrach had surged ahead of his troops, leading them forward, an unstoppable force.
Then the tunnel erupted.
The sensation was vast, immense, a battering of sight, sound, feeling. Light and heat burst on them in an outrageous assault. Wargrach felt as if he had been slapped with a white-hot sheet of iron, then he was hurled through the air. He remembered touching rock and flame at the same time, seeing a shield slump and melt, hearing shrieks from the saur around him, smelling –
If it weren't for his secret cache of spells, he would have been lost. Blinded, he'd groped in the inner pocket of his jacket and seized the first bottle he touched. He flung it to the rocky floor and he was immediately surrounded by a protective cocoon. He knew it wouldn't last long, but for a moment the heat and noise were gone. Before he could do anything other than gasp for breath, however, a wave of molten rock picked up the cocoon. Wargrach was buffeted and rolled helplessly in the flood. Finally he was spat out of the tunnel onto the rocky slope. The cocoon dissolved and he was left staring at the cascade of lava belching from the tunnel mouth.
He rolled over, was sick, then swooned.
Later, lying on his bed of pain under the stars and clouds, trying to gather what little strength he had left, he finally managed to curse young Adalon of the Eastern Peaks.
The next morning, wet with ashy dew, Wargrach struggled to his feet and lurched away from the smoking mountain.
* * *
Once Adalon had peered inside the cave mouth and reassured himself that their pursuers were gone, they moved a short distance away to a grassy clearing. Targesh gathered some fallen wood from nearby scrubby plants and made a fire, and the three friends prepared a meal.
The moon was rising, huge and golden. By its light, Adalon was able to look out over the valley they had stumbled on. Adalon munched on dried meat he had in his pack. Despite being bruised and slightly toasted, he was amazed at what he saw. Welcome to the Hidden Valley , he thought.
The valley was entirely ringed by jagged mountains. They thrust up like sharp teeth and nowhere could Adalon see a gap in them. Graaldon was the largest of them. It rumbled and smoked constantly, but the wind took the smoke away from the valley, not toward it.
Adalon could see that the valley was narrow, barely a league from side to side. Thick woods started high up on the flanks of the mountains and spread down into the valley itself. He thought he could make out a river, snaking its way along the valley floor, and rocky outcrops pushing up through the forest.
It was on one of these outcrops, out in the middle of the valley, that the Lost Castle stood.
Even at this distance, and at night, Adalon could see that the Lost Castle was graceful. Its towers stood proudly, high above the valley floor. One was much taller than the other three and his gaze was drawn to it. He wondered who had lived there and what they had seen. Did they use it to study the heavens? Or was it a sentry tower to spy out enemies? He yearned to find out.
Adalon bit off another chunk of meat and chewed it thoughtfully. 'How far away is it, Simangee?'
Simangee looked up from the old book. The light of the campfire glittered in her eyes. 'I don't know.'
Adalon nodded, but continued to study his friend after she turned away.
She was still not herself, he was convinced of that. The encounter with the devil cloud had changed her.
'Further than it looks,' Targesh said. He was eating some tree fungus he had found while gathering firewood. He broke the great plates into pieces and ate them with delicate bites of his horned beak.
'A day's walking?' Adalon guessed.
'Yes, but we mustn't travel in the dark,' Simangee said. She shivered.
'Why not?'
'Traiths and screets haunt the valley at night, or so the book says.
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