Beastly by Matt Khourie Read Free Book Online Page B

suddenly vibrated. A writhing tail of wicked barbs burst through the triangular frame, knocking the Beast-effigy from his feet. A second whip like appendage wrapped around its throat.
    The Beast jabbed a talon at the morbid image. “Jahana’s blaze! What was that?”
    Urda did not answer, only solemnly nodded upwards, trying to focus the Beast’s attention.
    The Beast snarled and looked as commanded. Fanged jaws appeared, snapping and salivating. He watched helplessly as the effigy was flayed by the writing serpents. The jaws stalked forward. With a crunching pop they unhinged to a grotesque angle. He heard a child’s cry from above. Familiar somehow, like an echo. He didn’t know how, but he was certain it was not the scream of the cringing boy.
    The image vibrated again. The speck sped about, etching a small figure behind his effigy. Not until the Beast noticed the curly hair did he realize it was a child.
    A girl.
    The fanged jaws snapped like a bear trap, swallowing the scene. A cruel laugh leaked from the dying portrait. And then there was nothing. The sky breached the crimson triangle like ocean tide through a sand castle.
    “No!” The Beast paced a circle around Urda, snow and ice crunching underfoot. “I must know more. Is that to be my end? You said no harm would come of stars. What then is that?” The furious tirade left his muscled chest heaving. He clutched at his medallion, pulling the chain taut.
    Urda rested a gentle hand on the Beast’s paw and guided the medallion back to his mane. “Take heart, Beast of Briarburn. Your fate is no more certain than the next man’s. All you carry from this moment, your fears, your strength, and yes even your weakness can protect you from that fate. But only if you recognize which is which.”
    The Beast grumbled a minor complaint about Urda’s cryptic words but the old woman hushed him with a wave. She extended her arm and this time the Beast was swift to take it.
    “Come. This wind is fit to chill a witch’s heart. Let us find the fire. In the morning, you will visit Sensheeri. An old friend there may be of further service. I yet have a trick that will aid your travels.”
    ***
    A bright sapphire star penetrated the newly settled cloud cover where the macabre theatre had been drawn. Polaris shined down with increasing intensity. The light filtered down in a spiral, enveloping the Troll’s Breath in its center.
     

Chapter 7
     
    Sensheeri was founded at the edge of Lake Tamahl, the largest lake in the Once Kingdom. The mammoth body took weeks to traverse under the most accommodating happenstance. At its deepest Tamahl was several times deeper than man’s natural ability to dive. For generations, Sensheeri’s people worked the bountiful waters as fisherman and salvager. The town was raised in circular fashion like the rings of a tree; proud evidence of growth and prosperity. Sensheeri’s domiciles and small shops were also perfect circles, owing to a belief that evil spirits preferred shadowy corners to use as portals.
    Daybreak found vendors of bolted wool and cured meats pushing carts through the modest marketplace. Cries of cheap wares and scandalous bargains melded into a continuous buzz. A bakery teased the air with scents of sweet bread, a welcome distraction from the scent of brine. A small armada of fishing boats cinched to a pair of barnacled piers rolled on gentle tides. Icy winter months provided no respite: the lake remained under daily siege by eager crews preparing their vessels for launch. Men bundled in thick coats scurried across the docks, carrying supplies for the long day ahead. Lines were cast off and wives wished for safe returns, their breath dotting the morning air like smoke signals.
    Lia knelt in front of Sensheeri’s bakery, watching a pack of children kick a patchwork ball around a muddied stretch of road. Her shoulder length hair was the color of baker’s chocolate, carelessly cinched with a pale blue ribbon. She wanted nothing