Nostrum (The Scourge, Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

of my breastplate. I roll to one side, but the afflicted man won’t let go. And the weight becomes too much for Abigail. She crashes sideways to the ground in a shower of flesh, plaguers, and armor.
    I seize the opportunity to drive the steel cowter on my elbow into the face of the man holding my backplate. His nose splatters like a mouse beneath a millstone and he lets go. The other plaguers struggle to their feet, but Abigail and I are faster. I clasp my arms around her neck and throw one leg onto her back as she rises. The rest of the afflicted are upon us. Their hands clutch at Abigail. She pounds away from the horde, fear at last giving her strength and speed.
    I dangle from her neck with one leg over the top of her. The plaguers are falling away. But if I cannot get back on Abigail, she and I will fall to the clay once more. And there will be no second escape from the afflicted. The steel greave on my leg slips against the cow’s smooth hide. Each stride sends me one inch closer to the ground. I gather every ounce of my strength and pull myself upward, reclaiming one inch at a time. Abigail slows and kicks at me.
    “Not…nice…Abigail…” I groan. She tries kicking again, but it is too late. I shift onto her back. She puts her shoulders into her strides and pulls away from plaguers.
    I am riding a cow.
    But I am not riding quickly. Abigail slows after another few strides, then slows to a trot, and finally stops. She dips her head and tears at the grass.
    “They’re still back there!” I slap her rump and she swishes her tail again. This is not going to work. I kick at her flanks and she glances back at me, her jaws working the grass. Her ears twitch forward.
    I can hear the erratic thudding of the plaguers’ footsteps. They are once more within striking range. I point to them.
    “Look! Look, you stupid cow!”
    Abigail peers at the plaguers and then lurches sideways and shakes her head as if she had never seen them before.
    “You’re no chicken!” I shout at her. She bellows and lurches forward again. “You’re no chicken!”
    Her hooves kick up dirt as she gets started, but it is too late. The fastest of the plaguers have arrived. Abigail loses her bovine calm and begins spinning and kicking. It is all I can do to stay on. I wrap my arms around her neck and wind one hand in the ropes. Five of the fastest plaguers have reached us and try to get close, but Abigail’s kicks and wild spins keep knocking them down.
    When I am sure of my balance, I let go of her neck with one hand and hack at the plaguers with my sword. They will reach Abigail’s flesh soon. She will go down, and I cannot outrun this tide of plaguers. The brunt of these wretched creatures is almost upon us. I bring the sword down harder than I have to and hurl curses at the afflicted as I send them to purgatory. And then something peculiar happens.
    Six or seven of the approaching plaguers fall to the ground. They simply topple backward. A few scream as they fall. I jab my blade through a man’s throat and look back again. Another few plaguers lurch and fall backward. The marching hordes behind these stumble over their fallen comrades but continue their relentless approach. And then another five or six fall to the ground.
    There are three of them around Abigail now. The others cannot get close enough to us. They simply fall to the ground whenever they get near. As if God were striking them dead. Perhaps Mary is making amends for the cow.
    I kick an old woman and hear something in her chest crack. She howls and claws at her breasts and I cleave her head from crown to mouth.
    Abigail is whirling dangerously. Riding a cow is not like riding a horse. A cow’s back is broad, so that your legs cannot rest comfortably around the animal’s flanks. And its skin is looser than a horse’s: it slips forward and backward and pulls you along. I think it is only the terror of falling and pure strength of will that keep me on her while she spins and