The Herald of Autumn (Echoes of the Untold Age Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

my feet, the earth remained cool
and smooth. Never did I step upon a thorn or snag on a root. I was a hunter,
and the ground gave way before me.
    Despite my fear, I forced myself to
slow enough to allow the empty thing to keep pace with me. I had seen how quick
it could be, but when chasing me, it moved in more of an uneven, relentless
lope. If I had truly been fleeing the thing, I probably could have been far and
away. However, caution paid double. I was not yet as quick-footed as I would be
only weeks hence, but I found myself all too easily forgetting I had awakened
early.
    I ran through the forest. Like
casting stones into a still pond, every step I took rippled with summer’s
passing. I saw a raccoon duck behind an old log and knew that some part of its
dreaming mind had shifted. Autumn was coming; the time for sleep would be soon.
An owl, on the other hand, was intent on my passing, her eyes singing with the
moon. Such birds of prey often ghosted behind the Great Hunt. She leapt to the
sky as I passed, a whisper through the trees. The wind sighed as I ran, and the
owl shadowed me in the night.
    It might not yet be dawn, but the
Herald of Autumn walked the land.
    I usually enjoyed feeling the change
overtaking the animals of the forest, but tonight it offered no pleasure. I
could still hear the fetch, feel its screams echoing through me. I needed to
remain focused. Even though I ran from it, I remained the hunter. I just had to
figure out how to take the creature.
    I couldn’t say how long or how far I
had run; every thought and every step led the shadowed thing away from Mount
Chase. I had a sizeable lead now, although I could still hear it behind me,
still feel it cast its shadowed pall across the wood.
    Beginning to wonder how far I would
run, I felt the whisper of a Dreaming.
    Go back. It struck me square in the face. Less
words than feelings, I realized I had left something precious behind, something
I might lose for all time.
    The Dreaming spun an eldritch web of
silver gossamer thrown around my heart. Woven from longing for the ordinary
solace found in the safety of home, the net cast a powerful desire for the
warmth I had never known, not for long, anyway. I slowed, letting it surge
through my mind, over the untended places in my heart.
    It spoke of tranquil sunlight, sweet
whispers in my ear.
    Cry off. Molly is waiting. Molly and
warmth.
    Wait a moment. This Dreaming had to
be coming from something, some talis hidden in the area. I tuned out the
undulating calls of the fetch, slowly casting about my eyes.
    I, of course, scanned for what was
not there, for places where my eyes would slide away.
    No. Nothing. Simply detritus of the
forest floor.
    The whispers grew urgent, pleading.
    Leave. She awaits you yet. She is
probably awake now, awake and feeling you gone. She yearns, Tommy.
    I shook my head, trying to focus.
Wasn’t there—?
    You always leave, Tommy. You don’t
have to, though. It can be different. You can have a home —
    There.
    Close to the ground, to my left, my
gaze slipped over where nothing appeared to be. My eyes jumped, my focus
shifted about two steps.
    Something was there.
    As I got closer, its whispers came
fiercer.
    Aren’t you tired, Tommy? Tired of
always being alone? You have no true friends, nothing like family. You can have
that, all that, if you simply return to her. You don’t have to abandon her, to
break her heart and let her fade —
    My hand found what my eyes could not,
a talis, a Dreaming fetish entwined with the living warmth of a woman, the
smell of baking bread, the laughter of a child. As soon as I grasped it, all
became clear. I could see a small pouch of leather and sinew tied to a sapling.
When I broke the cord, the whispering immediately stopped.
    Now, who had the glam for a toy such
as this? More than a fetish, it was the perfect snare to use against me, a
wanderer who knew no home.
    The screeching roar behind me
resonated with the crunch and grind of chewing glass