Stone Rising by Gareth K Pengelly Read Free Book Online

to be getting on with the work of their masters. He reached down, stroked its flank as he spoke in hushed, comforting tones.
                  “Soon, old friend. Soon.”
                  He reached within his black robes, pulling out the parchment that had been delivered only a week before. He read it again, lips moving in tune to the Latin scrawled thereon, before nodding to himself. The red-haired witch and her coven of associates, wanted for blasphemy and consorting with the devil. Accused of healing the sick by the power of spirits.
                  Yes, God had seen fit to place him in the right place at the right time. He replaced the parchment within his robes, his hand brushing against the silver crucifix that hung about his neck and, next to it, the silver hammer of his order, before withdrawing a small piece of blank parchment and a quill. He scribbled instructions in Latin shorthand, before reaching behind him to the small cage on the pack behind the saddle.
                  The pigeon cooed softly as he attached the note to its leg, though it didn’t struggle, well used to its task by now. Cupping the creature softly in both hands, he gently released it to soar heavenwards in a frenzied flap of wingbeats.
                  “Go, my little friend. God speed.” He looked down from its ascent, eyes staring out from within the shadow of his cowl as he regarded the distant flickers of torchlight in the steadily encroaching dusk. “I have my own tasks to see through before this night is done…”
     
    Chapter Three:
     
    In waves, they came. Throwing themselves through the smoke and haze, hurling themselves forwards as they came at the defences. Reckless. Relentless. No thought for their own safety. No thought for tactics, no use of cover. The air filled with the gibbering screams of the insane. Blood-flecked spittle and maddened oaths.
                  The smell of decaying human flesh.
                  The streets, fenced on either side by rearing buildings of grey stone, rusting metal, shattered glass, acted as funnels, channelling the damned into the path of fire. The mass of rushing bodies, hundreds strong, charged on, heedless of the broken window-panes beneath their feet that tore through tattered footwear and shredded flesh. Charged on, towards the rusting, twisted pile of wrecked vehicles that barred their path.
                  A child, no older than eight or nine; her pig-tails tied back with pink ribbon, her frilly dress torn and spattered with gore. To her side, her school-satchel, still bedecked with pin-badges; Spongebob Squarepants, My Little Pony. The flap of the satchel hung open, the lifeless eyes of the severed head stuffed within staring out in blank and unending horror. The child screamed in pitiful rage as she sprinted through the rubble and debris that littered the street.
                  A pensioner, what little of his wiry hair that remained, white, his wizened face lined with extreme age. His electric scooter long since discarded, battery drained dry; fingernails torn, raw, crusted with dried blood as the senior citizen dragged himself mindlessly on, useless legs trailing behind, teeth bared in a feral grin of bloodlust.
                  A taller figure, amongst the rampaging crowd; black-skinned, muscular, his blue, mechanic’s overalls torn and stained with the vital fluids of his victims. He ran, barging aside with his bulk the smaller creatures in his path, eager to be the first to reach their prey. He stopped, barely twenty yards from the makeshift wall of ruined cars, the leather of his boots screeching to a halt amidst the glass and gravel that coated the once smooth pavement of the road. A prickling, static frisson in the air and he raised his right arm, staring at it in wonder and fear, as those of the gibbering horde nearest stopped their frenzied run and backed away