Read Online Wrath of Kerberos by Jonathan Oliver - Free Book Online

sand, introducing its own variations on Emuel’s theme – singing melodies that the eunuch had never heard before, that had the suggestion of something other, something alien; something vast.
    The creature’s back rolled beneath him and Emuel was reminded of the swaying of the deck of the Llothriall . He wondered where his friends were now and whether the Final Faith had finally caught up with them. He hoped not; he would rather they were dead than in the clutches of Makennon or Querilous Fitch.
    With the moon and stars gently rocking above him, Emuel found himself being lulled into sleep, and he went with it, grateful for its sanctuary.
    He awoke what seemed like only moments later, rolling over and landing heavily on the ground, his right hand sinking into something cold and wet. He looked up to see the creature sitting back on its hind legs, looking down at him almost expectantly, and then he looked round to where he had been brought.
    They were by a lake, surrounded on all sides by low, chalky hills. It was still night, though the moon was now on the wane. A great chorus of insects and amphibians shouted their song to the stars. Emuel realised that, beside himself and the strange creature, this was the first real life he had encountered in this arid place, and he found himself strangely moved by this night chorus.
    Emuel staggered forward as the creature’s snout prodded him in the back. He tumbled to his knees by the water’s edge and it was only as he did so that he realised how fiercely thirsty he was. He drank long and deep and the most wonderful coolness spread through him, banishing all memory of the desert.
    There was a soft snuffling behind him and he turned to see the vast lizard settling down to sleep, curled around its tail, its wings folded tightly to its sides. Emuel put his hand on the creature’s flank and was surprised to find that its flesh was dry and cool.
    Wrapping his cloak about himself, he lay next to his new companion and, feeling reassured by its presence, slept himself.
     
     
    T HE FISH THAT he managed to palm out of the shallow water the next day tasted foul, and Emuel doubted that cooking them would have made them any more palatable. Not that his companion was complaining; the creature wolfed down two of the spiny, dull-scaled things and then went sniffing around for more. Emuel wasn’t inclined to go fishing again, however. Instead, he sat looking out across the water, wondering what direction they should strike out in next.
    The creature sat behind him, flexing its wings, creating a pleasing breeze that played across the back of Emuel’s neck, ruffling his hair. He closed his eyes and began to hum idly to himself, the creature soon picking up the tune and joining in.
    “Hey,” Emuel said, turning around. The creature cocked its head and snapped its jaws. “How about we play a game? Remember this?”
    And Emuel sang the song he had been singing when the creature had first come to him in the desert. When he stopped, the creature took over and, together, taking turns, they wove a complex, eerie melody. Emuel could taste the taint of magic in the air, and he looked down to see the tattoos that covered every inch of his flesh entwining around one another, moving to the rhythm of the song.
    “What are you?” he wondered as the creature closed its eyes, seeming to move deeper into the music. He smiled and put his hand on the creature’s head. It nuzzled his hand and licked his palm. “I shall call you Calabash,” Emuel said, remembering the old choirmaster of his church in the Drakengrat range, whose legendary voice had attracted the praise of many a parishioner.
    A high-pitched keening sounded from across the water and Emuel and Calabash raced to the water’s edge. On the far shore was a creature almost identical to Calabash, although this one’s flesh had a dark ochre hue.
    The creature raced up and down the shore, calling out to Calabash, clearly desperate that they be united.