Lady Of The Helm (Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

side of steel bars?  She raised the crescent symbol to her lips in search of inspiration.  The creature’s leering menace suddenly turned to fear and it leant back away from the shining emblem.  On an impulse she mouthed a simple blessing, “benedictonium de Dea.”
    The impact was beyond her wildest imaginings.  The creature began to turn, abandoning Kaylan’s injured leg it sought to fly, but it had moved barely an inch or so down the tunnel before its skin began to crumble and crack before her incredulous eyes.  Its skull caved in as its rotting flesh turned all to dust which fell in a drift onto the slimy surface.
    “Truly, my L ady you are in high regard with the Goddess!” Kaylan gasped despite the pain of his bleeding leg.
    “Hold your breath!” she instructed as she pulled him down and under the bars. 
    The agony of the short submerged journey showed on his features as Kaylan surfaced, grey and not far from a dead faint.  “My leg is done, my lady.  Please go.”
    “Shut up,” she told him, dragging his wounded leg to the surface to see more clearly while the light of the spell she had cast endured.  It was a nasty injury, two deep bites the first of which had torn a lump of muscle from the back of his leg.  She pressed the crescent symbol against the wound and closed her eyes as she repeated a familiar mantra. “ Sanaret servum tuum carus dea, sanaret servum tuum carus dea, sanaret servum tuum carus dea, sanaret servum tuum carus dea.”  Each repetition drained her of energy as though she had run a sapping mile and by the fourth one she was panting for breath.  But when she opened her eyes she was rewarded with the sight of a wound which, if not entirely healed, was at least sealed closed with slightly irregular but healthy pink flesh.
    “My L ady!” Kaylan said in awe as he flexed his foot with the mildest wince of discomfort.
    Niarmit nodded grim ly and replied.  “It seems the Goddess has at last forgiven me the times I have distracted myself learning the crafts of your trade, Kaylan.”
    “Aye my L ady, you could make a far better thief than I, no ill intent meant you understand, but I am right glad you are a still greater priestess.”
    “Aye, Kaylan, but remember, my name is Niarmit.  Now let’s get out of this shit hole.”
***
    “Don’t you people ever knock!” Udecht, bishop of Sturmcairn, exclaimed as he gathered the bedclothes around his well fleshed body.
    “Er…” Kimbolt stammered.  “I had not thought to find you abed at this hour, your reverence and the Prince has sent me on a matter of some urgency.”
    “My nephew thinks everything is urgent,” Udecht muttered, patting the plump cushions that filled his bed.  “A little privacy if you please, Captain,” he asked, waving his hand for Kimbolt to turn around. “There are parts of the body ecclesiastic that are not for general viewing.”
    “Of course y our reverence.”  Kimbolt obediently turned his back hearing only the swish of robes as the priest put on his vestments.
    “What is the latest crisis th at our castellan bids me attend?”  Udecht demanded crossly.
    “I was not to say, your reverence, mer ely to bring you to the gatehouse and to do so immediately,” he tried in emphasising the last word to convey the urgency of Thren’s summons, but the Bishop was not in a mood to be hurried.
    Udecht harrumphed unhappily, “gatehouse eh? so doubtless some soldier on patrol has an injury that needs a priest’s powers of healing.  Well for this kind of disturbance I expect two broken limbs and a fair bit of bleeding.  Anything less, and I will cuff yon’ Prince’s ears for him, done it before Captain, mark my words I’ve done it before.”
    Kimbolt kept silent.  He did not doubt th at there was some truth in the Bishop’s words.  He may indeed have clipped Thren round the ear, but the last time would have been at least fifteen years ago when Thren had been but a child and Udecht’s father