Hawk Quest Read Online Free PDF Page A

knew they were so close. After the disaster, word reached us that they wanted men to negotiate ransoms for the prisoners. I went out of Christian duty.’
    Drogo snorted. ‘Describe my brother.’
    ‘Fair, well made. His quick wit has made him a favourite at the Emir’s court.’
    Drogo breathed in through his nose. Far away and lonely came the faint note of a bugle. Drogo twisted in his saddle as if alerted by another sound, but Hero knew there was no other sound – only the creaking of leather and the sputtering of torches and the thumping of his heart. Snow was collecting between the links of Drogo’s mail and Hero knew what he was thinking. They were hidden from mortal sight. This circle in the night was the place where they would die.
    ‘Take them across the river and kill them. I’ll stay here with the horses. When the others return, tell them you cut down the foreigners as they tried to escape.’
    Two of the soldiers prodded Vallon forward at swordpoint. The one called Drax grasped Hero by his neck and began hustling him over the bridge.
    ‘And fetch me that ring,’ Drogo bellowed.
    Why hadn’t Vallon heeded his warning? Hero agonised as he stumbled after his master. It had been an act of suicide to go barging into the castle at night.
    He was halfway across the bridge when a wordless shout ahead of him made Drax stop and tighten his grip. All Hero could see were the torches carried by Vallon’s escort swinging in the snow-filled night. One of them fell and fizzled out. Hero heard a succession of cryptic thumps and exclamations, the clash of metal, a cry of pain and then a faint splash. A moment later the other torch died, leaving everything on the far bank a mystery.
    Drax shook Hero. ‘Move and you’re dead.’ He released his hold and raised his sword and torch, making futile fanning movements to clear his vision. ‘Fulk? Roussel?’
    Someone moaned.
    ‘Fulk, is that you? For Christ’s sake, answer.’
    ‘ I think my wrist’s broken. ’
    ‘Where’s Roussel?’
    ‘ The Frank has my sword across his throat. ’
    ‘Oh, shit!’
    ‘What’s going on?’ Drogo shouted.
    Drax turned his head. Hero heard him swallow. ‘The Frank must have broken free and seized Fulk’s sword.’
    Vallon’s voice carried from the void. ‘ Drogo, I have your men at my mercy. Release my servant .’
    ‘Do nothing without my order,’ Drogo roared. The bridge began to tremble, a seismic forewarning of his rage. Hero shrank aside as he swept past. When he reached the other side, he stood in his stirrups and held his torch high. By its puny light Hero saw Vallon armed with a sword, holding Roussel in a necklock, Fulk doubled over, nursing one hand under his shoulder.
    ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ he groaned. ‘Roussel slipped and barged into me. The Frank took advantage of the—’
    ‘Silence! I’ll deal with you poltroon idiots later.’ Drogo spurred his horse towards Vallon. ‘As for you …’
    Vallon retreated, using Roussel as a shield. ‘We have no quarrel.’
    ‘No quarrel?’ The gulf between this statement and the enormity of Drogo’s wrath rendered him speechless. When Drogo found his voice, it came from a different register, guttural, as if thickened by blood. ‘I’ll make you repeat those words when I’m standing with my foot on your neck.’
    Vallon shoved his hostage away and took guard. Encumbered by torch, sword and shield, Drogo had to guide his horse with his knees. He circled one way, then the other, the snow falling so thickly that Hero could only make out fitful shapes.
    ‘You’d better dismount,’ Vallon said. ‘You can’t fight with your hands full.’
    Drogo acknowledged his handicap. ‘Drax, get up here with your light.’
    Drax cursed and dragged Hero forward. Drogo backed up to him and leaned to hand him his torch.
    ‘Sir, I can guard the prisoner or hold the torches, but I can’t do both.’
    Drogo kicked out. ‘God’s veins, am I entirely surrounded by cretins? Cut