The Warlock of Rhada Read Online Free PDF Page B

moisture ran from the slackening mouth.
    Emeric seized the thin shoulders and shook Asa sharply. “A warlock? Are the rumors true, Asa?”
    “Leave him,” Glamiss said shortly. “He will be useless for a bit. Let him rest. And no more about a damned warlock. This is a punitive expedition for Ulm--not a hunt for sinners, Emeric. The Inquisition will have to wait.”
    A sudden scream, high-pitched and furious, froze the priest and warman where they stood. Higher on the ridge they could see the plunging shape of a Glamiss’s war mare, Blue Star, rearing and striking with her clawed feet at a huge, leathery-winged bird that had appeared from high above. As they watched, the eagle rose and stooped again, the broad wings almost covering the raging mare.
    Glamiss and Emeric scrambled up the slope, the priest calling for Sea Wind. Already the rogue eagle had opened several red gashes on Blue Star’s heaving flank. As they watched, the mare ripped at the wing-membranes of her attacker, screaming with fury.
    Sea Wind galloped toward the Navigator and he swung into the saddle with the swift ease of a Rhadan. He let his mount carry him ahead of Glamiss and under the menacing wings of the dragonlike bird. His long iron sword was in his hand and he struck at a descending talon with all his strength. The eagle uttered a shrill cry and beat at him with razor-tipped wings. His blow had severed the eagle’s foot, and the bloody stump crashed wetly against his iron mail, almost unhorsing him.
    Glamiss reached the battle now, his flail swinging. A slash from the eagle’s remaining foot sent him tumbling among the rocks. Emeric could hear the clatter of troopers running to their assistance, but the great bird’s beak was suddenly darting at his unprotected face and he raised a mailed arm to protect himself and murmured an Ave Stella, for he felt very close to death.
    He heard the wicked whirring of iron chains and the solid chunk of the morningstars, the spiked balls of the flail, striking the bird’s armored head. When he could look again, the eagle was down, its neck broken by Glamiss’s flail. A furious and bloody-flanked Blue Star was ripping at the fallen, already dying monster with her clawed feet.
    He reeled in the saddle and held onto Sea Wind’s arching neck. The troopers clattered up to them and stood looking respectfully at the twitching, dying bird.
    Glamiss was inspecting his mare’s injuries, cursing and blaspheming in a steady stream. It seemed to him that his question about having to fight the great birds had been answered. If the adept in the valley had sent the eagle, the troop’s situation was perilous. He gentled the still excited Blue Star, rubbing her silky muzzle and murmuring to her. Had a child done this? Anything seemed possible in this strange valley.
    Abruptly, he made up his mind. He turned away and scrambled down the ridge to where Asa still sat, half-recovered now from the effort of his mental probe of the valley.
    “Asa,” he said, “there is more in this place than fifty warmen can handle. Tell Rahel that we must have a starship with the full warband from Vara.”
    “Rahel, yes,” the Vulk said vaguely, smiling. He would reach across the miles in the Vulk’s way, Glamiss knew, to touch the mind of his sister-wife, the Vulk Rahel, who remained always in the keep on the plain. Asa and Rahel were the two termini of the Talk, the only communication at a distance this world knew.
    Emeric was at his shoulder, protesting. “Ulm will never let you lead the full warband. He would not dare.”
    “Then let him come himself. I need more men.”
    Emeric studied his friend’s intent face. It was certainly not fear that had done this to Glamiss. The Vykan was without fear. But there was an instinct in him that Emeric had often seen. Glamiss was a military genius. Perhaps even a political one. There was something in the valley of Trama Glamiss wanted, something he must have. Emeric suspected that it might be