lift Emlis as he was heaved upward by Gers. Gers himself came last, grunting and swearing with the effort, enormous hands grabbing for support, heavy legs kicking against the cave wall.
When finally he lay grumbling on the cracked clay, the companions were free to turn west, to look their fill at the long, dark mass that hulked in the distance.
The Factory sprawled almost to the mountains’ edge. Flame belched from its tall, thin chimneys, turning the boiling cloud above to scarlet. The very sight of it filled Lief with dread.
He turned to Jasmine and saw that she was staring fixedly at the shape ahead, her green eyes calculating, her mouth set with determination. Lief felt a stirring of unease. Why would Jasmine look like that?
They began walking in single file, keeping low, moving quickly through the open spaces between the scattered rocks. The chimney flames ahead leaped high, guiding their way. Their ears strained for sounds ofdanger, but all they could hear was a dull, low rumble that grew louder and louder with every step they took.
The flames grew closer. The rumbling sound grew more penetrating, till the air seemed to tingle with it, and the very earth under their feet seemed to vibrate. A ghastly sweet-sour smell gusted towards them on the wind.
Now Lief could see the brutal shape of the Factory, very close. He could see a broad road running beside it, leading west, then disappearing around a great hill. He could also see the source of the terrible odour. Enormous, shadowy mounds of garbage lay between the road and the mountains.
‘Those mounds will give us good cover,’ Barda muttered to Lief.
Claw turned. His face was gleaming with sweat. His eyes were glassy. His lips were fixed in a smile that looked more like a sneer. ‘Good cover,’ he repeated. ‘Oh, yes. I found them so.’
Then, abruptly his eyes widened. ‘Gers! Brianne!’ he cried harshly.
Lief spun around and saw, leaping towards them, a monstrous green man-shape with massive bowed shoulders, clawed hands and a lashing tail. The creature’s snake-like scales gleamed, its hideous lipless mouth split in a savage grin, its orange eyes burned.
Lief knew what it was. He had seen its like before, on Dread Mountain. It was the Shadow Lord’s creation, bred to fight. The ultimate killing machine. A vraal.
10 – The Mounds
T he vraal’s terrible curved, knife-like claws were spread. Its tail lashed and broken clay sprayed up behind its cloven hoofs as it sprang forward. In seconds it would be upon them.
‘Run, girl!’ roared Gers to Jasmine. ‘Do not try to fight it!’
Jasmine did not need the warning, any more than Lief and Barda did. They had tried to fight a vraal once, and once was enough. This beast gloried in battle. It cared nothing for pain, did not know the meaning of fear or retreat.
Jasmine turned and ran, making for the garbage heaps. Grabbing Emlis between them, Lief and Barda pounded after her.
Hissing with fury because its opponents would not stand and fight, the vraal gave chase. The rusty broken chain that still swung from its iron collar rattled and clinked, but the vraal did not mind that. It was used tothe sound. It had lived with it ever since it had escaped from captivity.
To the vraal, the sound of the broken chain represented freedom.
Freedom to kill and feed where and when it liked, instead of at the bidding of its masters.
Freedom to prowl the plain, so open, so different from the narrow confines of its cell beneath the Shadow Arena.
Freedom to prey on the man-beasts who ate scuttling beetles, the ragged slaves who dug in the holes in the earth and the grey masters who tasted bad, but who gave reasonable sport before they sank screaming under claws and teeth.
These enemies were different. The vraal could tell by their scent as well as their actions that they were not the same as the enemies it had been forced to fight of late. Fresh, rich blood still ran through their veins. Fire still burned in their
When finally he lay grumbling on the cracked clay, the companions were free to turn west, to look their fill at the long, dark mass that hulked in the distance.
The Factory sprawled almost to the mountains’ edge. Flame belched from its tall, thin chimneys, turning the boiling cloud above to scarlet. The very sight of it filled Lief with dread.
He turned to Jasmine and saw that she was staring fixedly at the shape ahead, her green eyes calculating, her mouth set with determination. Lief felt a stirring of unease. Why would Jasmine look like that?
They began walking in single file, keeping low, moving quickly through the open spaces between the scattered rocks. The chimney flames ahead leaped high, guiding their way. Their ears strained for sounds ofdanger, but all they could hear was a dull, low rumble that grew louder and louder with every step they took.
The flames grew closer. The rumbling sound grew more penetrating, till the air seemed to tingle with it, and the very earth under their feet seemed to vibrate. A ghastly sweet-sour smell gusted towards them on the wind.
Now Lief could see the brutal shape of the Factory, very close. He could see a broad road running beside it, leading west, then disappearing around a great hill. He could also see the source of the terrible odour. Enormous, shadowy mounds of garbage lay between the road and the mountains.
‘Those mounds will give us good cover,’ Barda muttered to Lief.
Claw turned. His face was gleaming with sweat. His eyes were glassy. His lips were fixed in a smile that looked more like a sneer. ‘Good cover,’ he repeated. ‘Oh, yes. I found them so.’
Then, abruptly his eyes widened. ‘Gers! Brianne!’ he cried harshly.
Lief spun around and saw, leaping towards them, a monstrous green man-shape with massive bowed shoulders, clawed hands and a lashing tail. The creature’s snake-like scales gleamed, its hideous lipless mouth split in a savage grin, its orange eyes burned.
Lief knew what it was. He had seen its like before, on Dread Mountain. It was the Shadow Lord’s creation, bred to fight. The ultimate killing machine. A vraal.
10 – The Mounds
T he vraal’s terrible curved, knife-like claws were spread. Its tail lashed and broken clay sprayed up behind its cloven hoofs as it sprang forward. In seconds it would be upon them.
‘Run, girl!’ roared Gers to Jasmine. ‘Do not try to fight it!’
Jasmine did not need the warning, any more than Lief and Barda did. They had tried to fight a vraal once, and once was enough. This beast gloried in battle. It cared nothing for pain, did not know the meaning of fear or retreat.
Jasmine turned and ran, making for the garbage heaps. Grabbing Emlis between them, Lief and Barda pounded after her.
Hissing with fury because its opponents would not stand and fight, the vraal gave chase. The rusty broken chain that still swung from its iron collar rattled and clinked, but the vraal did not mind that. It was used tothe sound. It had lived with it ever since it had escaped from captivity.
To the vraal, the sound of the broken chain represented freedom.
Freedom to kill and feed where and when it liked, instead of at the bidding of its masters.
Freedom to prowl the plain, so open, so different from the narrow confines of its cell beneath the Shadow Arena.
Freedom to prey on the man-beasts who ate scuttling beetles, the ragged slaves who dug in the holes in the earth and the grey masters who tasted bad, but who gave reasonable sport before they sank screaming under claws and teeth.
These enemies were different. The vraal could tell by their scent as well as their actions that they were not the same as the enemies it had been forced to fight of late. Fresh, rich blood still ran through their veins. Fire still burned in their
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