Read Online The Pegasus's Lament by Martin Hengst - Free Book Online
Authors: Martin Hengst
Tags: Fantasy fiction
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face a menacing rictus, he took a step toward her. Tionne broke into a wide smile, her teeth gleaming behind ruby lips twisted to one side. The aggressor's step faltered. The menace in his eyes turned to fear and he tripped over his own feet backing away from her. He landed hard on his bottom, his teeth making an audible crack as they came together. Scrabbling away from her, he managed to get to his feet, and then he was gone. Just another body pelting headlong down the cobblestones.
Throwing her head back, Tionne laughed. Her laugh wasn't the laugh of a carefree girl of fifteen, just barely out of her apprenticeship at the Academy. No, this was the dire cackle of a banshee loosed from the very bowels of the Deep Void. Whether consciously or not, the other people in the square gave her wide berth as they abandoned the capital city of the Human Imperium.
The wind that howled through the square was hot on her face, warmed by the fires that burned almost every building in Dragonfell. She brushed her raven dark hair back from her face, her pale skin tinged an ugly orange by so many fires nearby. By morning, every building in the city that was capable of burning would be reduced to ash and cinder.
A brassy scream sounded high overhead and Tionne cast her large emerald eyes skyward. In stark contrast against the oncoming night, a massive white dragon turned on a wingtip, hurling magical lightning at a target only he could see. There was an explosion that shook the ground under her feet and a plume of dust and fire blossomed into the sky in the distance.
A child's wailing, the sound thin and warbling, seemed to pierce her eardrums and dragged her attention away from the destruction the dragon was raining down on the city. A little boy sat in the dirt under a nearby cart. His eyes were wide and wet, streaming rivulets down his dusty cheeks. A woman lay beside him, on her back, her open eyes staring sightlessly skyward. The woman's torment was over and she was still. Tionne only wished the toddler would stop its screaming. When it didn't, she resolved to do it herself.
As she moved toward the cart, a black shape bounded across her path. It reached the cart before she had even taken a step, the monster flipped the cart up and away from the child with the strength of half a dozen men. It snatched the little boy from the ground and whirled to face Tionne.
Half its face was a ruin of old scars and patchwork fur. One eye was missing, but the other burned with luminescent blue fire that sent a chill up her spine. The toddler's wails had become screams of terror. The Xarundi roared, baring its wicked fangs. There was a wet tearing sound. The child gave a final, gurgling scream and was still. Blood and offal dripped from the monster's jaws as it fed with messy greed.
As if spirited away, the panicked masses of people were gone. The fires were still, frozen. Coils of smoke arrested themselves in mid-motion, painted on the sky by the hand of some unseen artist. Only the Xarundi seemed to be immune from the sudden cessation of even the minutest movements of life.
It dropped the tattered remains of the boy and peered at her, the eye boring into her.
“We are bound by blood, child,” it said in a guttural but passable rendition of the low tongue. “Come to us. Come to us and we will rule together.”
Before Tionne could process the words, or feel the gut-wrenching terror that she usually associated with the huge wolf creatures that had massacred her family, she was plunged into darkness. Not just darkness, but a blackness so deep and pervasive that she felt as if it was folding over her like a heavy blanket.
The air was fetid and seemed to cling to her, as if it was trying to smother her in her hiding place. Every breath she took sounded like the roar of a tornado in her ears and she dare not take too many. There was no way of knowing if the monsters were still there. The strong odor of urine and the uncomfortable dampness clinging to
Throwing her head back, Tionne laughed. Her laugh wasn't the laugh of a carefree girl of fifteen, just barely out of her apprenticeship at the Academy. No, this was the dire cackle of a banshee loosed from the very bowels of the Deep Void. Whether consciously or not, the other people in the square gave her wide berth as they abandoned the capital city of the Human Imperium.
The wind that howled through the square was hot on her face, warmed by the fires that burned almost every building in Dragonfell. She brushed her raven dark hair back from her face, her pale skin tinged an ugly orange by so many fires nearby. By morning, every building in the city that was capable of burning would be reduced to ash and cinder.
A brassy scream sounded high overhead and Tionne cast her large emerald eyes skyward. In stark contrast against the oncoming night, a massive white dragon turned on a wingtip, hurling magical lightning at a target only he could see. There was an explosion that shook the ground under her feet and a plume of dust and fire blossomed into the sky in the distance.
A child's wailing, the sound thin and warbling, seemed to pierce her eardrums and dragged her attention away from the destruction the dragon was raining down on the city. A little boy sat in the dirt under a nearby cart. His eyes were wide and wet, streaming rivulets down his dusty cheeks. A woman lay beside him, on her back, her open eyes staring sightlessly skyward. The woman's torment was over and she was still. Tionne only wished the toddler would stop its screaming. When it didn't, she resolved to do it herself.
As she moved toward the cart, a black shape bounded across her path. It reached the cart before she had even taken a step, the monster flipped the cart up and away from the child with the strength of half a dozen men. It snatched the little boy from the ground and whirled to face Tionne.
Half its face was a ruin of old scars and patchwork fur. One eye was missing, but the other burned with luminescent blue fire that sent a chill up her spine. The toddler's wails had become screams of terror. The Xarundi roared, baring its wicked fangs. There was a wet tearing sound. The child gave a final, gurgling scream and was still. Blood and offal dripped from the monster's jaws as it fed with messy greed.
As if spirited away, the panicked masses of people were gone. The fires were still, frozen. Coils of smoke arrested themselves in mid-motion, painted on the sky by the hand of some unseen artist. Only the Xarundi seemed to be immune from the sudden cessation of even the minutest movements of life.
It dropped the tattered remains of the boy and peered at her, the eye boring into her.
“We are bound by blood, child,” it said in a guttural but passable rendition of the low tongue. “Come to us. Come to us and we will rule together.”
Before Tionne could process the words, or feel the gut-wrenching terror that she usually associated with the huge wolf creatures that had massacred her family, she was plunged into darkness. Not just darkness, but a blackness so deep and pervasive that she felt as if it was folding over her like a heavy blanket.
The air was fetid and seemed to cling to her, as if it was trying to smother her in her hiding place. Every breath she took sounded like the roar of a tornado in her ears and she dare not take too many. There was no way of knowing if the monsters were still there. The strong odor of urine and the uncomfortable dampness clinging to
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