Read Online The Queen's Blade Prequel I - Conash: Dead Son by T C Southwell - Free Book Online

around his neck,
weighed him down. The sand burnt his palms and clogged his nose.
His arms were red and blistered and his breath rasped in a dry
throat. He moved a hand forward, then a knee. One hand, one knee.
The other hand, the other knee. The sand crept past his face.
    Conash became
aware that he was toiling up another dune. One of many. Countless,
endless, unrelenting dunes. He hated dunes. He hated sand. He
detested the desert and the Cotti and the dress in which he was
clad. There was nothing he did not hate. He loathed the daytime
heat and the cold at night. Everything deserved his fury. No one
had helped him or cared about his fate. No one had saved him. He
would save himself or die trying. How far had he crawled? How many
man-lengths? How many days?
    The pain of his
burning palms and blistered skin goaded him. The agony of his raw
throat and shrunken belly gave him strength. He could not lie down
and die, the sand was too hot. He could not slake his thirst, there
was no water. One hand, one knee. Dragging, sliding, burning. One
hand, one knee. No one had helped him. He hated them all. They
would all rot in Damnation. He crawled.
    The sand
crumbled under his palms, and he tumbled down a slope. Sand filled
his mouth, but he could not spit it out, he had no spit. Pain
flared from his raw skin, abraded by the sand. He rolled onto his
stomach and levered himself onto his hands and knees. Crawl. One
hand; one knee. Where was he going? He had forgotten. Somewhere.
Anywhere. So much pain; so much hatred. It was all he had left. He
was dead; his body just had not received the message yet. Soon it
would, and then the pain would end. Rivan was waiting. Why did he
struggle onwards?
    The cat gazed
at him from his memory, golden eyes aglow. A set of paw prints
appeared in the sand before him, and he frowned at them. He raised
his head. Rivan sat in the sand ahead, waiting for him. He crawled
faster. Hand, knee, hand, knee, hand, knee. Flee flee flee flee.
Why had he not listened? Rivan waited for him. He would reach the
cat, then he would die in his familiar's warm presence. Rivan stood
up and walked away.
    Conash tried to
call his familiar's name, but only a hiss came from his parched
throat. Crawl faster. Hand knee hand knee hand knee. Move! Rivan waited ahead, watching him. Wait for me! I'm coming,
Rivan. I'm coming. Soon. I'll get there. Hand knee hand knee.
The cat rose and walked away. Conash gazed at him in despair. Wait! He could not go any faster. Wait for me. Harsh
breaths came to him. His own. Rivan purred, and his warm vibrations
gave Conash strength, but not enough. His arms buckled, and he
ploughed into the sand. It filled his mouth. He shook it out, his
tongue rustling.
    Rivan walked
back to him and flopped down. Conash reached out and touched the
cat, his burning fingers sinking into soft, cool fur. He sagged
with a sigh. He could die now, Rivan was with him. A shadow. A
shadow cat. A ghost. Rivan had come for him. He was shadows. Cool,
calm, dead. Like Conash. The boy who had been Conash, but was no
longer. Dead boy. Dead Son. Born dead in a river of blood under a
Death Moon in a blizzard, and given a grave-name. How many ill
portents were needed for one boy's birth? He was not even a boy
anymore. He was nothing. He was death.
    Rivan rose and
walked away, and the creature that had been Conash followed. Paw
prints marked the sand, leading him on. Leading him where? Hand
knee hand knee. What was he now? What was left of him? Only hatred,
bitterness and fury. His dead familiar had returned to lead him out
of the desert, or was he dead, and this was Damnation? It looked a
lot like Damnation. It was certainly hot enough. The creature that
had once been Conash chuckled. It came out as a rustle.
    Soon his body
would realise that it was dead. The sooner the better. He did not
know how much more crawling he could endure. He had been crawling
for centuries. Ages had come and gone while he had been crawling
through the