The Eight Walls of Rogar: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Series! (The Lost Kingdoms of Laotswend Trilogy--Book One) by William Woodward Page B
Authors: William Woodward
Ads: Link
and whimpered. Her fur was matted together and her left paw was drawn protectively beneath her body, but she was alive.
“You were very brave,” he praised, kneeling down to inspect her for broken bones. She yelped and nipped at his hand when he touched her hurt paw. “What happened here?” he asked. Still whimpering, she licked the back of his hand. Andaris sighed. “Well, I suppose this means I’ll have to carry you.” Disregarding his own injuries, he scooped her up and started back down the trail, fighting to master his pain. Have to make it to Stonegarden , he thought. It’s her only chance.
All too soon the sky faded to black. It was a lovely evening, cool and tranquil, with a gentle breeze blowing out of the east—at least he thought it was east. The sort of evening from which he would normally derive great pleasure, perfect for sitting and thinking while enjoying a warm cup of jasmine tea.
“Look at all the stars,” he told Jade, staring up at the heavens in awe. He had never seen such stars before. They twinkled at him with a brightness that made him feel light-headed, forming into unfamiliar constellations. “But how can even the stars be different? Unless….”
Not wanting to think about it, he concentrated instead on keeping to the path. He would sort it out later. All that mattered now was getting to safety. Loose rocks and twisting roots conspired to trip him as Jade became like lead in his arms. The slashes across his chest burned like fire, and he could feel blood, warm and wet, running down the front of his legs. “I have to put you down,” he wheezed. But she had gone limp and didn’t respond. She’s just asleep , he told himself.
He would have stopped then if not for the singing. A faint melody floated in on the breeze, distant voices drifting through the mist to the haunting accompaniment of a wooden flute. Andaris stumbled towards it, ignoring the forest as it danced around him in a blur. He knew he’d lost too much blood, but somehow managed to keep planting one foot in front of the other. As he struggled, his mind flashed unbidden to a memory of his family and home.
***
He was eight years old, sitting on the front porch of his parent’s house--a modest dwelling with neatly trimmed rose bushes and a cobblestone chimney. His father was out by the woodpile chopping logs for the fire, thick beard covered with frost, wearing the buckskin coat that Andaris’ mother had sewn for him. Young Andaris watched with admiration as he swung the long-handled axe in a smooth arc over his head, splitting log after log with a resounding crack. Andaris had tried to lift the axe once, and had barely been able to raise its iron head off the ground. His father winked at him, and then bent to line up another log. To Andaris he was larger than life, and everything was right with the world.
***
Something wet brushed against his cheek. Jade’s nose? Somehow he was still on his feet, but he was fading in and out. Did he hear a low whimper? He was so dizzy and sick he couldn’t be sure. The pain in his side was more than he could stand. It felt as if he were being stabbed between the ribs with a hot poker.
***
His mother called to him from the kitchen, humming a happy tune as he entered, bustling around the place as she prepared his favorite meal of venison steaks and sautéed onions. “It’s nearly ready,” she cooed, smiling down at him. “Now go tell your father.” Young Andaris ran outside with a huge grin on his face.
***
A tree branch scraped his cheek. Was he going to die after all, in this strange land, so far from home? He blinked away his tears, and still the singing grew louder, urging him on. By the time he saw the firelight flickering through the trees, he could no longer feel his legs. As he staggered into the camp, the singing abruptly stopped.
Two men and a
“You were very brave,” he praised, kneeling down to inspect her for broken bones. She yelped and nipped at his hand when he touched her hurt paw. “What happened here?” he asked. Still whimpering, she licked the back of his hand. Andaris sighed. “Well, I suppose this means I’ll have to carry you.” Disregarding his own injuries, he scooped her up and started back down the trail, fighting to master his pain. Have to make it to Stonegarden , he thought. It’s her only chance.
All too soon the sky faded to black. It was a lovely evening, cool and tranquil, with a gentle breeze blowing out of the east—at least he thought it was east. The sort of evening from which he would normally derive great pleasure, perfect for sitting and thinking while enjoying a warm cup of jasmine tea.
“Look at all the stars,” he told Jade, staring up at the heavens in awe. He had never seen such stars before. They twinkled at him with a brightness that made him feel light-headed, forming into unfamiliar constellations. “But how can even the stars be different? Unless….”
Not wanting to think about it, he concentrated instead on keeping to the path. He would sort it out later. All that mattered now was getting to safety. Loose rocks and twisting roots conspired to trip him as Jade became like lead in his arms. The slashes across his chest burned like fire, and he could feel blood, warm and wet, running down the front of his legs. “I have to put you down,” he wheezed. But she had gone limp and didn’t respond. She’s just asleep , he told himself.
He would have stopped then if not for the singing. A faint melody floated in on the breeze, distant voices drifting through the mist to the haunting accompaniment of a wooden flute. Andaris stumbled towards it, ignoring the forest as it danced around him in a blur. He knew he’d lost too much blood, but somehow managed to keep planting one foot in front of the other. As he struggled, his mind flashed unbidden to a memory of his family and home.
***
He was eight years old, sitting on the front porch of his parent’s house--a modest dwelling with neatly trimmed rose bushes and a cobblestone chimney. His father was out by the woodpile chopping logs for the fire, thick beard covered with frost, wearing the buckskin coat that Andaris’ mother had sewn for him. Young Andaris watched with admiration as he swung the long-handled axe in a smooth arc over his head, splitting log after log with a resounding crack. Andaris had tried to lift the axe once, and had barely been able to raise its iron head off the ground. His father winked at him, and then bent to line up another log. To Andaris he was larger than life, and everything was right with the world.
***
Something wet brushed against his cheek. Jade’s nose? Somehow he was still on his feet, but he was fading in and out. Did he hear a low whimper? He was so dizzy and sick he couldn’t be sure. The pain in his side was more than he could stand. It felt as if he were being stabbed between the ribs with a hot poker.
***
His mother called to him from the kitchen, humming a happy tune as he entered, bustling around the place as she prepared his favorite meal of venison steaks and sautéed onions. “It’s nearly ready,” she cooed, smiling down at him. “Now go tell your father.” Young Andaris ran outside with a huge grin on his face.
***
A tree branch scraped his cheek. Was he going to die after all, in this strange land, so far from home? He blinked away his tears, and still the singing grew louder, urging him on. By the time he saw the firelight flickering through the trees, he could no longer feel his legs. As he staggered into the camp, the singing abruptly stopped.
Two men and a
Similar Books
