Read Online The Path of Flames (Chronicles of the Black Gate Book 1) by Phil Tucker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Phil Tucker
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years. I have some small measure of experience in the practice of governance and administration. We cannot cut taxes for a year. We cannot let our soldiers return home. I understand that you are traumatized by your loss, but please, listen to my advice. Now is the time to show strength. Make demands. Tighten your fist!”
Lady Kyferin didn’t answer at first. She simply sat, relaxed, until Bertchold wilted before her gaze. “I thank you for your advice, Master Bertchold. However, one thing is clear. Our only hope of weathering the coming storm lies with my Lord husband’s family. Which is why we shall reach out to Lords Laur and Lenherd, and invite them to come honor the passage of their brother.”
Father Simeon nodded. “Most wise, most wise.”
Asho blinked. He felt lightheaded. Menczel was saying something, but he couldn’t quite catch the words.
“If you’ll be excusing us,” said Brocuff, closing a hand around Asho’s arm. “I’d best be seeing to my guards. Ser Asho, will you join me? With your permission, my Lady?”
Asho tried to straighten. He should bow. Say something. He couldn’t quite focus on Lady Kyferin, but he heard her voice as she said something.
“Here we go,” said Brocuff, voice low as he turned Asho around and ushered him out of the Lord’s Hall.
“I’m fine,” said Asho, voice thick.
“You were bleeding on Her Ladyship’s floor,” said Brocuff. “She hates it when people do that.”
“Oh,” said Asho. The door came swaying at him as if looking to avoid his approach, and then they were through it and standing in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to.”
“No, I’m sure you didn’t,” said Brocuff. “Easy, easy. Here. Put your arm over my shoulders. Hell, you don’t weigh more than a feather. Come on. I’ll get you down to the kitchen at the very least.”
“The kitchen would be nice,” said Asho. Everything was going away. “Hot soup. Dumplings.”
Brocuff chuckled, but it sounded like he was disappearing up a chimney. Asho tried to follow him, but he couldn’t get his feet to work. Everything was growing faint and distant. Darkness came swirling down into his eyes, and Asho finally fell into the nothingness.
CHAPTER FIVE
The mountain kragh stumbled but did not fall. His roughshod boot slipped off the ice-wrapped river rock and plunged into the black water, forcing him to lunge forward and palm the next stone as he fought for balance. For a precarious moment he swayed, thick tendons standing out on his forearm. The great muscles of his legs had ceased burning and were now numb with fatigue; it was only through sheer will that he was able to wrest his foot free and place it heavily on the treacherous rock.
With a grunt he straightened and turned to sight down the curve of the mountain river. Fresh snow blanketed everything six inches deep and smothered the trees that covered the gorge’s steep black slopes. There was no movement, no sign of pursuit, but the kragh could sense that they were close. With a growl that resonated deep in his chest he turned and clambered heavily across the few remaining large rocks and gained the far side of the river.
There was no chance for survival. There were a dozen of the lowland kragh, and they were compensating for their lack of tracking skills with a score of great hounds. Tharok knew that if he were to simply remain where he stood, knee-deep in the snow, he could meet his pursuers here by the river, could fight them before the sun dipped behind the tallest peaks and most likely kill a third of them before he fell face-down in the snow. His blood would run down into the black water and flow into the valleys far below. It would not be a bad death, but neither would it be a glorious one.
Turning, he considered the path he was pursuing. The river curved out of sight ahead, a shoulder of the gorge reaching down to block the eye, but he knew its path. It would rise, following the raw mountain
Lady Kyferin didn’t answer at first. She simply sat, relaxed, until Bertchold wilted before her gaze. “I thank you for your advice, Master Bertchold. However, one thing is clear. Our only hope of weathering the coming storm lies with my Lord husband’s family. Which is why we shall reach out to Lords Laur and Lenherd, and invite them to come honor the passage of their brother.”
Father Simeon nodded. “Most wise, most wise.”
Asho blinked. He felt lightheaded. Menczel was saying something, but he couldn’t quite catch the words.
“If you’ll be excusing us,” said Brocuff, closing a hand around Asho’s arm. “I’d best be seeing to my guards. Ser Asho, will you join me? With your permission, my Lady?”
Asho tried to straighten. He should bow. Say something. He couldn’t quite focus on Lady Kyferin, but he heard her voice as she said something.
“Here we go,” said Brocuff, voice low as he turned Asho around and ushered him out of the Lord’s Hall.
“I’m fine,” said Asho, voice thick.
“You were bleeding on Her Ladyship’s floor,” said Brocuff. “She hates it when people do that.”
“Oh,” said Asho. The door came swaying at him as if looking to avoid his approach, and then they were through it and standing in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to.”
“No, I’m sure you didn’t,” said Brocuff. “Easy, easy. Here. Put your arm over my shoulders. Hell, you don’t weigh more than a feather. Come on. I’ll get you down to the kitchen at the very least.”
“The kitchen would be nice,” said Asho. Everything was going away. “Hot soup. Dumplings.”
Brocuff chuckled, but it sounded like he was disappearing up a chimney. Asho tried to follow him, but he couldn’t get his feet to work. Everything was growing faint and distant. Darkness came swirling down into his eyes, and Asho finally fell into the nothingness.
CHAPTER FIVE
The mountain kragh stumbled but did not fall. His roughshod boot slipped off the ice-wrapped river rock and plunged into the black water, forcing him to lunge forward and palm the next stone as he fought for balance. For a precarious moment he swayed, thick tendons standing out on his forearm. The great muscles of his legs had ceased burning and were now numb with fatigue; it was only through sheer will that he was able to wrest his foot free and place it heavily on the treacherous rock.
With a grunt he straightened and turned to sight down the curve of the mountain river. Fresh snow blanketed everything six inches deep and smothered the trees that covered the gorge’s steep black slopes. There was no movement, no sign of pursuit, but the kragh could sense that they were close. With a growl that resonated deep in his chest he turned and clambered heavily across the few remaining large rocks and gained the far side of the river.
There was no chance for survival. There were a dozen of the lowland kragh, and they were compensating for their lack of tracking skills with a score of great hounds. Tharok knew that if he were to simply remain where he stood, knee-deep in the snow, he could meet his pursuers here by the river, could fight them before the sun dipped behind the tallest peaks and most likely kill a third of them before he fell face-down in the snow. His blood would run down into the black water and flow into the valleys far below. It would not be a bad death, but neither would it be a glorious one.
Turning, he considered the path he was pursuing. The river curved out of sight ahead, a shoulder of the gorge reaching down to block the eye, but he knew its path. It would rise, following the raw mountain
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