Of Shadows and Dragons Read Online Free PDF Page B

with a shock that he had torn out his own eyes, but seemed not the slightest upset by the fact.
    Therian turned and rode his horse around the bend and up the mountainside. Gruum, almost weeping with a mixture of frustration and fear, followed his lord.
    Neither spoke for a long hour. The snow grew heavier until everything more than a dozen paces away was lost in soft whiteness. Their cloaks crackled when they moved, breaking up the shells of ice that formed there.
    “What was the substance in that pouch, milord?” Gruum asked finally.
    “The stuff of madness,” said Therian. “In concentrated form. The pure essence of fear, pain and insanity. I took it from the organs of the Dragon-Child Humusi as she lay rotting in the sun. I thought it might be useful.”
    Gruum shuddered, and he asked no more about the matter.

-7-

    The storm worsened as the day went by. As they climbed the mountains, the breezes grew to winds, the winds turned into a gale and soon the snow turned into a blinding whiteness that encrusted the scarves wrapped around their faces. Therian did not stop, and Gruum could not allow his master from his sight, so he followed the other. Sometimes, only a pony’s tail could be seen fluttering in front of him.
    Gruum trusted his lord, but with every step he suspected the ponies might tread upon a shelf of ice that mimicked the roadway, but which was not solid. He took no solace in the thought that if such an event were to occur, Therian should be the first to plunge down the mountain. Somehow, Gruum knew he was the more likely of the two of them to come to an unhappy, accidental end in this storm.
    The King proceeded as if he rode in a summer rain. He did not slow the pace, nor take rest. Gruum was impressed even more by the sturdy mountain ponies, however. The reliable beasts continued to march up the mountain road without complaint, plowing through a foot of snow with their fur-circled hooves.
    They came to an open mountain pass eventually, where the way was not so steep, but neither was it so clearly marked. The road was buried in white, and they could only guess at its location under the thick blanket of snow. Here, Therian stopped. Gruum pulled up beside him and blew out his cheeks.
    “Looks like we’ll have to make camp until this blows over, milord,” he said.
    Therian ignored him. He sat on his horse, stock-still for a time. He had the attitude of someone who listened intently.
    Accustomed to his master’s odd moods, Gruum fell silent beside him. He listened too, and eyed their surroundings carefully. There were trees here, pines with dark green needles and big pinecones choked with snow. Occasionally, the branches snapped and showers of heavy snow fell sliding down the trees, crashing to the ground below. Otherwise, he heard nothing.
    After a time, Gruum cleared his throat. His master still did not so much as glance at him. Gruum, tired from the journey, dug out a hunk of cheese from his saddlebags and chewed unenthusiastically.
    “There,” said Therian, pointing suddenly to their right.
    Gruum followed the outstretched arm. He saw nothing at first, but as he watched, he thought to realize something. A swirl of snow looped in the air, and through its spiraling center a clearer patch of air allowed him to see what Therian was pointing at. It was a shape in the snow.
    “Looks like a patch of fur,” Gruum said. “A dead animal, perhaps? The remains of a huntsman’s kill?”
    “Go and determine which, good Gruum,” Therian said.
    Gruum eyed his master warily for a moment, then shrugged. He dismounted from his shuffling pony.
    The mass in the snow was indeed a dead thing. There were wounds, and blood. Gruum was surprised, however, as he brushed at the head. He found a cloak and a tightly drawn hood. He found a woman’s face, encircled by the woolen hood. She looked young.
    “It’s a dead woman, milord! A huntress, by the look of her. A pity.”
    “How did she die?”
    Gruum glanced back at