Read Online The Trees And The Night (Book 3) by Daniel McHugh - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Daniel McHugh
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faded and the war cry of the Eru grew. Hnarg knew the Vendi pack was no more. Had they served their master in their death? Had they taken the old man? The answer was Hnarg’s only salvation. If he returned to the Scythtar empty handed he was dead, a sacrifice to the lessons taught by his masters. However, if he returned with news of the Seraph’s death, the Malveel would praise him. There remained a risk the Seraph lived and Hnarg would be caught in a lie. So be it. At least Hnarg would stave death off for a time. The alternative was unthinkable. An Ulrog outcast from his pack was a pitiful creature. North or south of the Knife Mountains he would be hunted. No, thought Hnarg, he would risk the lie on the chance his Hackles reached the old man first.
He would return directly to Kel Izgra with the news of the Seraph’s death. Hopefully his Hackles finished the job. His life and place amongst the Ulrog were worth the gamble.
However, first he must exit the lands of the horsemen. The battle grew silent. It was over. The horsemen would check the dead before they spread out once more. His opportunity to slip away was at hand. The Ulrog priest smiled to himself. Amird protected his chosen, thought Hnarg.
Slowly he rolled over and pressed his chest against the ravine wall, staring to the ledge above. A five yard climb, then due north to safety. With a quick glance over his shoulder in the direction of the battle, Hnarg began to claw his way up the wall.
The priest of Amird heard a strange pop. He quickly scanned the ravine but saw nothing. As he looked to the riverbed below, his eyes caught a hint of red near the hollow of his knee. A small feathery dart lay embedded beneath his hide.
Panic raced through the Ulrog’s mind. He tried to scramble to the top of the ravine, unconcerned now by the stealth of his flight. His body refused to obey. Numbness crept into his arms and legs, followed by a burning. He felt frozen yet on fire. With each passing moment the fire grew. The only function left to him was his vision. Hnarg lay pressed against the ravine wall, his eyes darting to and fro searching for the enemy.
A small trickle of dirt and pebble tumbled down the slope from above. Hnarg’s head remained locked, immovable, but the Ulrog priest strained his eyes to the ledge. There stood his enemy, an Elven child. The boy calmly stood above the Ulrog grasping a long hollow tube in his right hand.
The Ulrog priest growled and hissed curses through labored breathing. He raged from within. An Elven child? A priest of Amird taken by an Elven child? Hnarg cried out in his mind as he lay frozen on the slope. How could his Master allow this outrage? Amird, Lord of Chaos, save me!
The child cocked its head sideways and took one last look at the priest. The boy’s expression never wavered. The Elf displayed neither triumph nor distress. He simply studied Hnarg. The priest tried to curse once more and black froth spilled from his mouth and across his chin. The Elf slowly turned, then dashed from his sight as the fire consumed Hnarg’s mind and he was gone.
Ader turned his stallion to face the battleground fifty yards down the riverbed. Death worked quickly. Kael sat in awe of the veiled riders of the Eru plains as they swept over the ravine’s edge and engulfed the Ulrog pack. The Eru were the essence of efficiency and order. Their mounts never broke formation as they encircled the pack and drew in on them like a noose.
Riders released spears and slashed sabers with each spin of their churning maelstrom. The Ulrog staggered in confusion. As one rider danced from their stony grasp, another attacked from the opposite direction, constantly keeping the stone men off balance and defenseless. It seemed only moments to Kael before the Eru reined in, dropped from their mounts and checked the still forms of the Ulrog Hackles for signs of life.
Eidyn drew in next to Ader and attended the white stallion’s injuries. Kael slid from
He would return directly to Kel Izgra with the news of the Seraph’s death. Hopefully his Hackles finished the job. His life and place amongst the Ulrog were worth the gamble.
However, first he must exit the lands of the horsemen. The battle grew silent. It was over. The horsemen would check the dead before they spread out once more. His opportunity to slip away was at hand. The Ulrog priest smiled to himself. Amird protected his chosen, thought Hnarg.
Slowly he rolled over and pressed his chest against the ravine wall, staring to the ledge above. A five yard climb, then due north to safety. With a quick glance over his shoulder in the direction of the battle, Hnarg began to claw his way up the wall.
The priest of Amird heard a strange pop. He quickly scanned the ravine but saw nothing. As he looked to the riverbed below, his eyes caught a hint of red near the hollow of his knee. A small feathery dart lay embedded beneath his hide.
Panic raced through the Ulrog’s mind. He tried to scramble to the top of the ravine, unconcerned now by the stealth of his flight. His body refused to obey. Numbness crept into his arms and legs, followed by a burning. He felt frozen yet on fire. With each passing moment the fire grew. The only function left to him was his vision. Hnarg lay pressed against the ravine wall, his eyes darting to and fro searching for the enemy.
A small trickle of dirt and pebble tumbled down the slope from above. Hnarg’s head remained locked, immovable, but the Ulrog priest strained his eyes to the ledge. There stood his enemy, an Elven child. The boy calmly stood above the Ulrog grasping a long hollow tube in his right hand.
The Ulrog priest growled and hissed curses through labored breathing. He raged from within. An Elven child? A priest of Amird taken by an Elven child? Hnarg cried out in his mind as he lay frozen on the slope. How could his Master allow this outrage? Amird, Lord of Chaos, save me!
The child cocked its head sideways and took one last look at the priest. The boy’s expression never wavered. The Elf displayed neither triumph nor distress. He simply studied Hnarg. The priest tried to curse once more and black froth spilled from his mouth and across his chin. The Elf slowly turned, then dashed from his sight as the fire consumed Hnarg’s mind and he was gone.
Ader turned his stallion to face the battleground fifty yards down the riverbed. Death worked quickly. Kael sat in awe of the veiled riders of the Eru plains as they swept over the ravine’s edge and engulfed the Ulrog pack. The Eru were the essence of efficiency and order. Their mounts never broke formation as they encircled the pack and drew in on them like a noose.
Riders released spears and slashed sabers with each spin of their churning maelstrom. The Ulrog staggered in confusion. As one rider danced from their stony grasp, another attacked from the opposite direction, constantly keeping the stone men off balance and defenseless. It seemed only moments to Kael before the Eru reined in, dropped from their mounts and checked the still forms of the Ulrog Hackles for signs of life.
Eidyn drew in next to Ader and attended the white stallion’s injuries. Kael slid from
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