Chasers of the Wind by Alexey Pehov Read Free Book Online Page B

the thing exploded hundreds of sharp metal scales flew from it in every direction. At least ten of them sliced through the woman, killing her on the spot.
    Da-Tur had been standing by the wall, and it was only because of this that he did not fall below. One of the scales grazed his head, another left a deep cut along his forearm. The air stank of burnt flesh, hair, and something else. Something strange. Something repulsive.
    On shaky legs the northerner walked over to Ta-Ana and fell to his knees beside her. He felt sick; blood was flowing down his arm. His head felt like it was splitting. Chunks of flesh that had very recently belonged to that deadly creature were scattered all around.
    It was already light out, but still he was kneeling over the body of the woman. Finally he woke from his stupor, ripped his clan scarf from his neck, and wrapped it around the wound on his arm. He planted his sword into the ground, rested his weight upon it, jumped to his feet with a jerk, and … came face-to-face with three Morts.
    They were ghastly, bony creatures, with long arms and legs, slender necks, and lustrous skulls. Sleek ebony skin stretched tightly over their protruding bones. Their amber eyes seemed to flash above the dark pits where their severed noses should be. They wore no armor at all. They held skeem-swords in their hands. They were the necromancer’s bodyguards, come to fetch their trophy.
    Da-Tur roared and raised his blade, planning to sell his life dearly. The path was so narrow that his enemies could only come at him one at a time. This gave him a chance, if not to live, then to draw it out for as long as possible.
    The redhead dealt with the first of his opponents quickly, despite its skill, by seizing the moment and simply tossing it into the chasm. Then he sprang forward, swinging his sword in a backward arc, forcing his enemies to retreat.
    From somewhere below an all-too-familiar ball of green light came flying upward. It burst apart behind his back. The sorcerer was below, in the valley, by the exit from Gerka, and it would take him a long time to reach the Son of the Snow Leopard. By that time Da-Tur would have already won or lost.
    A Mort lunged for his neck with his blades crossed like scissors, but Da-Tur dropped down and impaled the creature through its chest. He kicked at the body, freeing his blade and … choking on his own blood, fell onto his side.
    At first he did not understand what had happened. He tried to get up but he couldn’t. For some reason his legs weren’t obeying him. Ta-Ana was standing over him. Her eyes were blazing with green fire.
    *   *   *
    When they had stumbled upon the Fish, Ga-Nor was the one standing closest to the edge. This circumstance actually saved him. As the explosion unfolded, the northerner was tumbling down below and so managed to escape being shredded by the steel scales.
    He didn’t fall very far. His journey into the chasm was cut short by a most welcome white cedar. The dense, tenacious boughs of the atrophied little tree, which had driven its roots right into the cliff, took the force of the falling human body unto themselves and snapped. But they saved the Son of the Snow Leopard. Two yards below the cedar there was a narrow ledge. It was there that Ga-Nor’s fall came to an end. A fall from such a height onto a hard surface should have broken Ga-Nor’s bones, but thanks to the tree he only lost consciousness.
    When the tracker regained consciousness, he let out a low groan. He opened his eyes and lay there, trying to figure out where he was. The sun was at its zenith. Quite a bit of time had passed since their encounter with the Fish. The memory of the sorcerer’s creature caused him to cautiously move his arms and legs to check if they were still whole. Everything was in working order.
    It didn’t take him long to figure out where he had fallen. Ga-Nor gave sincere thanks to Ug for his survival. If not for this ledge, beaten into the cliff by