The Fabled Beast of Elddon Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: David Barber
approached the cage, unlocking the door and reaching inside.
Ryia tried to pull back but the effort was futile. The two men took hold of her
shift and dragged her out onto the ground. They lifted her as easily as if she
were a child and bore her to the post. Another soldier came up from behind,
carrying a pair of heavy shackles connected by a length of chain.
“No,”
Ryia pleaded, pulling away, but the soldiers were far stronger than she and
there was little she could do to prevent them from doing as they pleased.
“Hold
still,” one of the men said, his voice betraying a hint of fear. But his hands worked
deftly as he clamped the shackles onto her wrists, snapping them closed with a
harsh metallic sound. Another man lifted the chain and Ryia could see that
there was a hook high up on the post just below the demonic face. The guard
used the end of his sword to lift the chain over the hook, seating it, and Ryia
was left dangling like a slaughtered hog with her feet barely touching the
stone.
“Ryia
an Elddon,” the soldier said.
“Larrel,”
Ryia corrected him. “I keep telling you I’m from Larrel--”
“No
one cares where you’re from or who your daddy was. I’m just the delivery boy.
You have been convicted of witchcraft, and here you shall wait to face the beast
of Elddon. May Aedon have mercy on your soul.”
“And
yours,” Ryia said, doing her best to maintain her courage despite the trembling
in her legs.
“Come
on, men,” the soldier said, looking away. “Let’s get outta here. This place makes
my skin crawl.” All of the men seemed nervous, hands on swords, watching the
faded walls and empty windows as if expecting to see devilish faces looking out
at them.
The
soldiers withdrew. Ryia twisted around so that she could watch them. The driver
of the cart gave her a nod, touching a fist to his forehead, then snapped the
reins. The cart moved away, the empty cage teetering in the back. The soldiers
mounted their horses, digging in their heels, and rode away without a backward
glance. In a matter of minutes, they were gone, the echo of shod hooves
disappearing down the mountain. She was alone in that awful place, with the
darkness slipping like a thief into the square.
Ryia
bowed her head. She could feel her pulse in her temples, a dull throb of pain
and fear. Her arms and legs were already starting to ache and the oppressive
gloom that seemed to emanate from the ruined city was beginning to seep into
her bones.
A
sudden sound drew her attention and her head snapped up, eyes wide, mouth
gaping. It had come from inside the city, from somewhere behind those ancient
doors, a low, rumbling sound that went on for several minutes before fading
into silence. The ground beneath her feet began to vibrate. Something was
moving inside Ibridion. She could feel it against her toes. The beast was
coming.
Panic
gripped her like a cold hand on her throat. She jerked at the chains. The shackles
twisted and scraped against her skin. Think, damn you, think! Her mind raced.
She was alone. No one was coming to save her. If she was to survive this, she
had to do it by her own wits, her own courage. But she had no courage. She was
suddenly whining like a trapped animal, desperate and afraid.
Another
sound, much louder than the first, like the braying of a horn, only not a horn,
issued from behind the doors and she could hear the tread of heavy feet, the
thump, thump, thump of some impossibly large creature moving along a passage
she could not see, coming for her.
Ryia’s
legs still trembled, but a desperate resolve woke in her breast. She felt anger,
and she stoked the flames of that anger until it was seething. She thought of
Sir Egan’s mocking face. She heard again the voice of Baron Leofrick, her
father’s patron and her supposed protector, pronouncing her doom. Liars. Thieves.
Even Tristan and his Northman friend. Their blundering rescue attempt had only
succeeded in landing them both in a dungeon--or a
Ryia tried to pull back but the effort was futile. The two men took hold of her
shift and dragged her out onto the ground. They lifted her as easily as if she
were a child and bore her to the post. Another soldier came up from behind,
carrying a pair of heavy shackles connected by a length of chain.
“No,”
Ryia pleaded, pulling away, but the soldiers were far stronger than she and
there was little she could do to prevent them from doing as they pleased.
“Hold
still,” one of the men said, his voice betraying a hint of fear. But his hands worked
deftly as he clamped the shackles onto her wrists, snapping them closed with a
harsh metallic sound. Another man lifted the chain and Ryia could see that
there was a hook high up on the post just below the demonic face. The guard
used the end of his sword to lift the chain over the hook, seating it, and Ryia
was left dangling like a slaughtered hog with her feet barely touching the
stone.
“Ryia
an Elddon,” the soldier said.
“Larrel,”
Ryia corrected him. “I keep telling you I’m from Larrel--”
“No
one cares where you’re from or who your daddy was. I’m just the delivery boy.
You have been convicted of witchcraft, and here you shall wait to face the beast
of Elddon. May Aedon have mercy on your soul.”
“And
yours,” Ryia said, doing her best to maintain her courage despite the trembling
in her legs.
“Come
on, men,” the soldier said, looking away. “Let’s get outta here. This place makes
my skin crawl.” All of the men seemed nervous, hands on swords, watching the
faded walls and empty windows as if expecting to see devilish faces looking out
at them.
The
soldiers withdrew. Ryia twisted around so that she could watch them. The driver
of the cart gave her a nod, touching a fist to his forehead, then snapped the
reins. The cart moved away, the empty cage teetering in the back. The soldiers
mounted their horses, digging in their heels, and rode away without a backward
glance. In a matter of minutes, they were gone, the echo of shod hooves
disappearing down the mountain. She was alone in that awful place, with the
darkness slipping like a thief into the square.
Ryia
bowed her head. She could feel her pulse in her temples, a dull throb of pain
and fear. Her arms and legs were already starting to ache and the oppressive
gloom that seemed to emanate from the ruined city was beginning to seep into
her bones.
A
sudden sound drew her attention and her head snapped up, eyes wide, mouth
gaping. It had come from inside the city, from somewhere behind those ancient
doors, a low, rumbling sound that went on for several minutes before fading
into silence. The ground beneath her feet began to vibrate. Something was
moving inside Ibridion. She could feel it against her toes. The beast was
coming.
Panic
gripped her like a cold hand on her throat. She jerked at the chains. The shackles
twisted and scraped against her skin. Think, damn you, think! Her mind raced.
She was alone. No one was coming to save her. If she was to survive this, she
had to do it by her own wits, her own courage. But she had no courage. She was
suddenly whining like a trapped animal, desperate and afraid.
Another
sound, much louder than the first, like the braying of a horn, only not a horn,
issued from behind the doors and she could hear the tread of heavy feet, the
thump, thump, thump of some impossibly large creature moving along a passage
she could not see, coming for her.
Ryia’s
legs still trembled, but a desperate resolve woke in her breast. She felt anger,
and she stoked the flames of that anger until it was seething. She thought of
Sir Egan’s mocking face. She heard again the voice of Baron Leofrick, her
father’s patron and her supposed protector, pronouncing her doom. Liars. Thieves.
Even Tristan and his Northman friend. Their blundering rescue attempt had only
succeeded in landing them both in a dungeon--or a