The Children of Urdis (Grimwold and Lethos Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

turned away from the carnage.
    He hovered over Grimwold, slapping his friend's waxen face. "Come on, wake up. It's just an arrow sticking out of your chest. About a hair's breadth from your heart. No big problem for a war chief like you. Get up."
    The icy finger running along Lethos's back reminded him that he was relying on his echo power of prediction. He knew he was ignored for now, and that the man who had shot the arrow that felled Grimwold was dead. The warriors cursing and shrieking all around him had fallen to their work with gusto, and their first targets had been the dozen archers.
    Lethos knew enough about medical aid to realize he had no business treating such a wound. If his vision had been right, the arrowhead was of sharpened stone, not a barbed tip. Feasibly he could pull it out, but risked breaking the shaft or snapping off the arrowhead. No telling what that might do to a regenerating body. Yet while this wound did not bleed much, it did not heal. Grimwold remained comatose, an arrowhead hovering over his beating heart. Lethos knew this, for he felt the same pain over his own heart. Whether either of them wanted it or not, their lives were intertwined such that the death of one meant the same for the other.
    "This isn't funny anymore," he said, cupping Grimwold's head. "In fact, it was never funny. But honestly, I don't know what to do here. Your power was supposed to carry the battle."
    He listened for a whisper in his mind, even over the din of the warriors shoving each other in a dance of death, but Grimwold did not answer. He was as good as dead to him, though Lethos still felt the bond. It was a trickle of power between them like the steady dripping of a melting icicle. He had that at least. He had nothing more.
    "Stay here," he said to Grimwold, letting his head down. He seemed almost placid but for the furrow of his brow. Years of staring into the glare of the sun while sailing the seas, and generally being a depressing and angry man, had worn creases of worry into his face. Lethos knew him to be much kinder than he appeared.
    He removed Grimwold's sword after unbuckling and pulling a half-dozen tries. Despite being the most obvious targets, none of the raiders had made a move to finish either of them. Perhaps Grimwold's command still held sway, or luck was on their side. Lethos had no time to care, for he had to nudge the battle back to their favor. While one barbarian seemed quite like another to Lethos, he could at least tell from which side men stood on who were the raiders.
    And they were prevailing.
    Lethos snapped his head up. Another man, a raider for certain, leapt at him with sword held high. Lethos had no time to pull his own blade free, and had little skill with barbarian weapons in any case. The cold water on his spine vanished again, and Lethos had no idea which way to dodge. The enemy's blade crashed into his shoulder.
    The pain was brief but sharp. A line of blood appeared through the cut in his shirt, and he staggered under the blow. The barbarian screamed in victory, likely assuming Lethos's head would flop to the side at any moment. Yet he paused when Lethos merely slapped at the superficial cut like it had been a mosquito.
    Let me out of this pit, said a guttural voice in the recesses of his mind. Let me out to kill. It is the only way. Your friend is dead. His men are defeated. I will bring you victory and life.
    "Lies!" Lethos shouted, springing to his feet. The attacking barbarian gawked at him, his sword drooping. He stepped back as Lethos argued with the voice in his head. "Stay in your pit. Don't ever come out!"
    A bass laugh rippled through his mind. Where is the master? it asked. What keeps me in darkness still?
    "I do!" Lethos slashed at the air with his sheathed sword, his mind filled with the image of a mad black bull. He might have snorted, but was not certain. During the war of the trolls, Amator had used blood sorcery on him to force a bull spirit into his body. He