Read Online Wrath Of The Medusa (Book 2) by T.O. Munro - Free Book Online
Authors: T.O. Munro
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watch.”
“She’s a brave girl, Sergeant.” Qu intala said. “I’d be proud to have her stand watch with me, and keep me from falling asleep.” At the Seneschal’s interjection the objections of the others evaporated. Hepdida harboured a faint suspicion that the Seneschal had been mocking her. She had never seen the half-elf asleep or even showing signs of fatigue. She seemed as tireless as her half-cousins the elves, unlikely to need aid from a new made princess. Nonetheless, Hepdida muttered a quick thank you to which the half-elf gave a demure nod. About them the rest of the group busied themselves for the business of standing watch or turning in.
They had chosen a shallow wadi for their camp. A twist in the dried up river bed had created a natural trench some twenty yards wide bent into a semicircle . It was a place in which a score of horses and their riders could remain entirely hidden from view save for someone walking up or down the river bed or stumbling over the embankment.
“We’ll take the Western end,” Quintala announced , while lancers and elves stationed themselves at the high sides of the enclosure. A man could lie with his head peeping over the earthen parapet, the rest of him completely concealed from view. Yet they could still see across the broad plain towards the shallow rise which separated them from the horde of orcs and undead. Only the eerie orange glow to the clouds hinted at the presence of their distant foe.
The ends of the tubular camp were open. The empty river channel meandered away into the night, its bed a little muddy as a trickle of water heralded the approaching winter rainy season. Quintala sat down on the outer edge of the bend in the absent river’s course. Here the faster flowing water had eaten into the bank to create an overhang beneath which one could find shelter and still keep an eye on the camp to the left and the rest of the channel to the right from whence an attacker might come creeping in the night.
Hepdida sat down bes ide the silver haired half-elf, and strained her eyes to peer into the gloom. “I can see nothing,” she confessed.
“My eyes can see enough for bo th of us,” the Seneschal assured her. “But if you make sure not to look towards the campfire you’ll find your night vision gets passably clear, for a human at least.”
“Thank you.” It was the longest exchange the half-elf had granted Hepdida since she had come, Goddess sent, to their party’s rescue on the bank of the great Nevers River.
“It is the wadi you are supposed to be watching, not me ,” Quintala said a while later, without turning her own attention from the object of their guard duty
“I’m sorry,” Hepdida stammered, realising that she had been staring at the half-elf’s cheek and ear while her thoughts raced round in circles. “It’s just that I…”
“You’ve never sat down with a half-breed before,” Quintala completed the sentence inaccurately, but with such amused certainty that Hepdida dared not correct her. “That’s not surprising. There are only two of us in the whole Petred Isle, perhaps in the whole world. If our leader’s plans bear fruit, you shall have met the full set before two more nights have fallen.”
“You don’t like Niarmit do you?”
Quintala shrugged. “What’s not to like, a bastard Queen and her cousin the bastard Princess, served by a bastard Seneschal. One has to admire the Goddess’s rich sense of humour.”
“Your father…” Hepdida began a question but again the half-elf anticipated her words.
“Never married my mother. I’m sure he would have, if they had let him. They let her marry my brother’s father, but then he was a prince, just about noble enough.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? It wasn’t your doing. It was all a long time before you were born. My father’s been dead two hundred years now.”
“My father might be dead, my other father that is.
“She’s a brave girl, Sergeant.” Qu intala said. “I’d be proud to have her stand watch with me, and keep me from falling asleep.” At the Seneschal’s interjection the objections of the others evaporated. Hepdida harboured a faint suspicion that the Seneschal had been mocking her. She had never seen the half-elf asleep or even showing signs of fatigue. She seemed as tireless as her half-cousins the elves, unlikely to need aid from a new made princess. Nonetheless, Hepdida muttered a quick thank you to which the half-elf gave a demure nod. About them the rest of the group busied themselves for the business of standing watch or turning in.
They had chosen a shallow wadi for their camp. A twist in the dried up river bed had created a natural trench some twenty yards wide bent into a semicircle . It was a place in which a score of horses and their riders could remain entirely hidden from view save for someone walking up or down the river bed or stumbling over the embankment.
“We’ll take the Western end,” Quintala announced , while lancers and elves stationed themselves at the high sides of the enclosure. A man could lie with his head peeping over the earthen parapet, the rest of him completely concealed from view. Yet they could still see across the broad plain towards the shallow rise which separated them from the horde of orcs and undead. Only the eerie orange glow to the clouds hinted at the presence of their distant foe.
The ends of the tubular camp were open. The empty river channel meandered away into the night, its bed a little muddy as a trickle of water heralded the approaching winter rainy season. Quintala sat down on the outer edge of the bend in the absent river’s course. Here the faster flowing water had eaten into the bank to create an overhang beneath which one could find shelter and still keep an eye on the camp to the left and the rest of the channel to the right from whence an attacker might come creeping in the night.
Hepdida sat down bes ide the silver haired half-elf, and strained her eyes to peer into the gloom. “I can see nothing,” she confessed.
“My eyes can see enough for bo th of us,” the Seneschal assured her. “But if you make sure not to look towards the campfire you’ll find your night vision gets passably clear, for a human at least.”
“Thank you.” It was the longest exchange the half-elf had granted Hepdida since she had come, Goddess sent, to their party’s rescue on the bank of the great Nevers River.
“It is the wadi you are supposed to be watching, not me ,” Quintala said a while later, without turning her own attention from the object of their guard duty
“I’m sorry,” Hepdida stammered, realising that she had been staring at the half-elf’s cheek and ear while her thoughts raced round in circles. “It’s just that I…”
“You’ve never sat down with a half-breed before,” Quintala completed the sentence inaccurately, but with such amused certainty that Hepdida dared not correct her. “That’s not surprising. There are only two of us in the whole Petred Isle, perhaps in the whole world. If our leader’s plans bear fruit, you shall have met the full set before two more nights have fallen.”
“You don’t like Niarmit do you?”
Quintala shrugged. “What’s not to like, a bastard Queen and her cousin the bastard Princess, served by a bastard Seneschal. One has to admire the Goddess’s rich sense of humour.”
“Your father…” Hepdida began a question but again the half-elf anticipated her words.
“Never married my mother. I’m sure he would have, if they had let him. They let her marry my brother’s father, but then he was a prince, just about noble enough.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? It wasn’t your doing. It was all a long time before you were born. My father’s been dead two hundred years now.”
“My father might be dead, my other father that is.
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