Read Online The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom by H. Leighton Dickson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: H. Leighton Dickson
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the Empire is already lost. Sir.”
He cursed himself once again.She
was right. Expedience was not a worthy master. With a resigned sigh, he
signaled the six mounted guards and with well-trained precision, they split
into three groups, a pair to the cart, a pair to scout the terrain and a pair
to stand in guard of the two civilians, tempting targets for any would-be
highwaymen. They were as swift as they were thorough and once they had searched
the vicinity, the first pair dismounted to attend the cart. Like the mobs in
the marketplace, this proved no simple task and soon, Kirin was forced to
dismount to lend a shoulder.
Almost
immediately, the cart began to heave and within minutes, the dislodged wheel
was back on the road.
“Wow,”
whispered Fallon to the Alchemist. “He’s really strong.”
Sherah
smiled, her golden eyes never having left the Captain.
“It is the way of lions.”
Kirin
straightened up, releasing a deep breath and tugging down the sash at his
waist. He approached the elderly couple with a formal bow.
“ Sidi, sidala. Your cart is restored.”
“Captain?”
It
was one of the guards.
“Yes?”
“Sir,
the rear axle is broken. It won’t be going anywhere like this.”
It
was a small sound at first, a faint and distant clatter that grew louder and
louder, like the onset of thunderclouds. All eyes turned to the sky, then the
defiant cliff face towering above them, then with amazing alacrity, to the road
ahead which erupted with a crash of wood and iron. Bits of shale rained down as
well, along with wheels which continued bouncing their downward descent and,
oddly enough, feathers.
“Wow,”
said Fallon. “Another ox-cart.”
Behind her, the Alchemist began to hum.
The ocelots were still smiling.
Kirin
sighed, headache pounding in his temples, and turned toward his horse.
***
The sun was sinking behind an
unfamiliar mountain, casting long shadows into the craggy valley. There was
grass here, but it was sparse, cropped too short by a small band of goats that
roamed in the rocky pasture. Twisted pines dotted the landscapes but those too
were short and stunted, owing their crude shapes to hard summers and harder
winters. Muddy footpaths seemed to weave in and out in all directions, a maze
of trampled snow and hoof-worn creases that led nowhere, anywhere and
everywhere, except where they needed to go.
“Where
now, stableboy?” Ursa growled.
Kerris moved Quiz deeper into the
valley. He rubbed a hand through his rumpled hair, bit his bottom lip several
times, chewed on the tip of an oddly-filed claw but in the end, he simply
shrugged.
“I
have absolutely no idea.”
“What?! I thought you knew where
this place was!”
“Well
then. You were wrong.”
“The
Captain said –“
“The Captain never asked if I’d been there, did he? Only if I knew the way.
Well, I showed you the way, didn’t I? But how to get in the proverbial front
door is another matter entirely. In fact I don’t think there is a front
door. I recall something about the number seven...”
Suddenly
one of the baskets erupted at her knees. It was Path, the ill-tempered,
emitting a series of shrill, frantic cries and sending downy feathers all over
the Major’s doeskin. She was trying her best to tear the bamboo cage to shreds
with her talons and beak.
Ursa swatted the basket lightly.
“Stop
it.”
The
falcon struggled all the more furiously to get out.
“I
said stop it.”
She swatted harder, to no avail.
Finally, she grabbed the basket with both hands but it simply resulted in a direct
hit from the lethal beak and a ribbon of red running the length of her finger.
“She’s
hungry,” said a voice.
“So
am I,” muttered Kerris, before his head snapped up in surprise. “Say! Who said
that?”
Seated
on a rock in the middle of the valley, a man was watching them.
“Was
he there before?” asked Kerris.
“No.”
Ursa scowled, her eyes narrowing to shiny slits. “He was
He cursed himself once again.She
was right. Expedience was not a worthy master. With a resigned sigh, he
signaled the six mounted guards and with well-trained precision, they split
into three groups, a pair to the cart, a pair to scout the terrain and a pair
to stand in guard of the two civilians, tempting targets for any would-be
highwaymen. They were as swift as they were thorough and once they had searched
the vicinity, the first pair dismounted to attend the cart. Like the mobs in
the marketplace, this proved no simple task and soon, Kirin was forced to
dismount to lend a shoulder.
Almost
immediately, the cart began to heave and within minutes, the dislodged wheel
was back on the road.
“Wow,”
whispered Fallon to the Alchemist. “He’s really strong.”
Sherah
smiled, her golden eyes never having left the Captain.
“It is the way of lions.”
Kirin
straightened up, releasing a deep breath and tugging down the sash at his
waist. He approached the elderly couple with a formal bow.
“ Sidi, sidala. Your cart is restored.”
“Captain?”
It
was one of the guards.
“Yes?”
“Sir,
the rear axle is broken. It won’t be going anywhere like this.”
It
was a small sound at first, a faint and distant clatter that grew louder and
louder, like the onset of thunderclouds. All eyes turned to the sky, then the
defiant cliff face towering above them, then with amazing alacrity, to the road
ahead which erupted with a crash of wood and iron. Bits of shale rained down as
well, along with wheels which continued bouncing their downward descent and,
oddly enough, feathers.
“Wow,”
said Fallon. “Another ox-cart.”
Behind her, the Alchemist began to hum.
The ocelots were still smiling.
Kirin
sighed, headache pounding in his temples, and turned toward his horse.
***
The sun was sinking behind an
unfamiliar mountain, casting long shadows into the craggy valley. There was
grass here, but it was sparse, cropped too short by a small band of goats that
roamed in the rocky pasture. Twisted pines dotted the landscapes but those too
were short and stunted, owing their crude shapes to hard summers and harder
winters. Muddy footpaths seemed to weave in and out in all directions, a maze
of trampled snow and hoof-worn creases that led nowhere, anywhere and
everywhere, except where they needed to go.
“Where
now, stableboy?” Ursa growled.
Kerris moved Quiz deeper into the
valley. He rubbed a hand through his rumpled hair, bit his bottom lip several
times, chewed on the tip of an oddly-filed claw but in the end, he simply
shrugged.
“I
have absolutely no idea.”
“What?! I thought you knew where
this place was!”
“Well
then. You were wrong.”
“The
Captain said –“
“The Captain never asked if I’d been there, did he? Only if I knew the way.
Well, I showed you the way, didn’t I? But how to get in the proverbial front
door is another matter entirely. In fact I don’t think there is a front
door. I recall something about the number seven...”
Suddenly
one of the baskets erupted at her knees. It was Path, the ill-tempered,
emitting a series of shrill, frantic cries and sending downy feathers all over
the Major’s doeskin. She was trying her best to tear the bamboo cage to shreds
with her talons and beak.
Ursa swatted the basket lightly.
“Stop
it.”
The
falcon struggled all the more furiously to get out.
“I
said stop it.”
She swatted harder, to no avail.
Finally, she grabbed the basket with both hands but it simply resulted in a direct
hit from the lethal beak and a ribbon of red running the length of her finger.
“She’s
hungry,” said a voice.
“So
am I,” muttered Kerris, before his head snapped up in surprise. “Say! Who said
that?”
Seated
on a rock in the middle of the valley, a man was watching them.
“Was
he there before?” asked Kerris.
“No.”
Ursa scowled, her eyes narrowing to shiny slits. “He was
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