The Trials of Trass Kathra Read Online Free PDF Page B

aspect to the air, and a tang of brine about it, and if you listened very, very carefully, the sound of waves and gulls could be heard from somewhere in the distance.
    Away from the cathedral, in this quiet place, Redigor succumbed to a greater tedium than mere weariness, and for a second actually staggered then steadied himself against a wall, his lips pulling back in pain. Only here, far from the stage on which his act needed to be maintained every day, could he acknowledge that it was far more than weariness affecting him.
    The fact was, his possession of Jakub Freel required little effort on his part, but what did require effort, and sometimes a great deal of it, was ensuring the body did not succumb to the rigours of the dark magic he would have it employ. The channelling of such forces through an elven form exacted some small price on the physiology, but channelled through a human it was the cause of a biological rot that had to be monitored and addressed almost constantly.
    Redigor pulled up the sleeves of his tunic and examined the black weals that writhed on the skin of his forearms like living tattoos, leaving necrotised patches of flesh, and knew this pattern was reflected on other parts of his body as well. He knew this because he could feel the burning the writhing brought with it.
    A year in human form was, indeed, a long time, and he was unsure for how much longer he could stem the tide of the rot. Already he could feel it manifesting itself in his internal organs, feel them throb and twinge as they threatened to collapse. If that happened there was every chance he would not survive to see the arrival of the Hel’ss. What he needed was a way to rid himself of it. The problem was that though he possessed the capability to take another host, that act would be self-defeating, not only because it would remove him from this position of power but also because he was running out of time. There was no chance he would be able to reestablish himself before the Hel’ss arrived. The only solution, therefore, was not to run from the rot but to eliminate it completely, and it was with this, that if the legends were right, he believed the Hel’ss could help.
    Redigor took a deep breath. In the centre of the chamber was a large tank-like structure, wrought of iron and studded with thick rivets strong enough to contain the weight of water that one or two portholes on its side revealed to be contained within. The water was the colour of algae and had clearly come from the sea. There was a dark shape barely discernible at its heart, the size of a tall and stocky man.
    Redigor waved a hand and wheels on the side of the tank began to turn. From within, the sound of sloshing and draining water was heard. It was not the first time Redigor had drained the tank but, each time, it had been refilled in order to preserve the items he’d contained within. Different items. This time as the water drained away, foot by foot, what was revealed was not the figure of a man but a woman – a woman carved of wood.
    The water gone, Redigor proceeded to a hatch between the two wheels and heaved it open with a metallic groan. Water continued to stream down its inside and pooled at his feet, but Redigor paid it no attention, his eyes fixed on the ship’s figurehead.
    Half rotten, encrusted with barnacles and with its joints accentuated by embedded layers of seaweed, the figure was twice his height. It thrust forward, staring over and beyond him, and looked almost desperate, as if seeking a wave it knew it would never ride again. Its features were smoothed by the erosion of years at sea, yet still distinguishable: the half-gown that had once connected it to its ships prow, the curve of its torso and breasts, its arms pressed to its sides, and its head, once crowned with flowing locks of hair, reduced now to a layering of rotten, jagged and jutting wood. What stood out the most, though, were its eyes, larger than those of a real human; blank orbs