The Doomfarers of Coramonde Read Online Free PDF

establish an unorthodox school of their own. The
Prince hoped that it was so, and meant to seek them out. He had questions to
ask them, particularly about Yardiff Bey.
    As he rode
along mulling all of this, the scenery had gradually changed from the walls of
the gentry who lived near Earthfast to common residences, shop and tavern, and
finally the empty market plaza. He cut across the wide square past the Temple
of the Bright Lady and quickly made his way up winding byways to the Brass Lion
Gate. The guard commander there had just come on watch and was uninclined to
pester himself over an Alebowrenian, all of whom were known for their
truculence, especially since the gate would soon be opened anyway for the
predawn influx of farmers with their produce and other goods for vending, and
so accommodated Springbuck’s exit.
    The gate yawned
behind him as the Prince rode across the hard-trodden earth to where the
Western Tangent shone gray and straight in the light of the watchtower. Storm
clouds had gathered and a sparse rain began to fall as he spurred his mount
away eastward toward Erub. Eastward where, perhaps, Andre deCourteney would
have answers and the Prince’s confusion and misgivings would be thrown open to
the light of wise counsel solicited from one of the best-known wizards of the
day.
    He let the
roncin out to a gallop, heedless of Micko’s warning, diverting tension and
venting frustration in a wild ride down the broad, seamless Tangent. The rain
misted in a dew on his cloak and the sleek, rolling hide of the horse beneath
him, and he removed his war mask to feel the moisture on his face.
    He rode
expertly, crouched low over the roncin’s neck, letting the tearing wind snatch
the events of the night from his brain. Lightning was flashing intermittently
when he came upon a horse incongruously leg-hobbled alone at the roadside. With
a start, he saw that it was his own, Fireheel, and came to a halt.
    “I thought that
your own horse would give you pause,” said a familiar voice, and the Prince’s
heart clenched with dread. It was a voice he associated with long hours of
exhausting training during which he was exhorted to match its owner—endless,
impossible effort—one of the most capable warriors alive.
    Though the rain
was heavier now, and the night dark, Springbuck had no difficulty identifying
the man with bow in hand who stepped from behind a nearby tree and up onto the
raised surface of the Tangent, arrow nocked, deadly confident.
    The lightning
flashes showed him Eliatim.
     
     

Chapter Four
     
    The secret
of happiness is freedom, and the secret of freedom is courage.
    THUCYDIDES,
    the funeral speech for
Pericles
     
    HE could see his former martial
instructor only dimly in the broken light until the other brought forth a small
lantern which had been covered, unshrouded its glow and turned up the wick. He
set it down near Fireheel, who dug with a nervous hoof at the impervious
Tangent; then he trained the drawn war arrow, barbs glittering coldly, on
Springbuck.
    The Prince
considered his options. His mount was tired and Fireheel looked well rested, so
that Eliatim would have no trouble in overtaking him should he bolt. Besides,
the man was an uncanny marksman when mounted and an incredible one from stance;
Springbuck wouldn’t get two lengths before he was spitted. He gnawed his lip
and watched the rain splatter down, and a hope began to grow in him. If he
could occupy the other’s attention for some little while, perhaps the
master-of-arms’ bowstring would become moist enough in the downpour to make it
slack and give him a chance at escape. In any case, he must make some sally or
be shot down here and now, on the instant.
    Thinking all of
this, he answered, “You needn’t threaten me. As you can see, I’m leaving
Coramonde for all time, going far and for good, I swear.”
    Gone now were
thoughts of retribution. He wanted only to live, and that urge would supplant
any other but the strongest. The