Curse: The Dark God Book 2 by John D. Brown Read Free Book Online

her legs faster. Her Fire grew, and she flew down the road. Her strides lengthened to nine or ten feet. Eleven. She sped down one swell and up another. The dogs barked behind, full of vicious bloodlust, but she felt so good she wanted to laugh.
    A small gust of wind blew across the fields, carrying bits of detritus with it. Straw from the fields, insects, dirt—she didn’t know. One speck went up her nose; others flew into her eyes and cut like sand. Sugar lost her vision for a moment. She blinked furiously, rubbed, almost stumbled. And then the flecks moved. Her eyes cleared, even though the grit still hurt.
    She was lucky she hadn’t taken a wrong step and twisted her ankle. Lords, to be undone by a speck in the wind .
    She glanced back. The dark forms of the dogs sped along the sunken lane. They approached the bottom of a swell behind her, sprinting in the moonlight, gaining on her, terrible and smooth, like shadowy pike shooting through dark waters toward their prey.
    She pushed herself faster. The edges of the fields flew by, but she dared not look back. She needed all her concentration on the road and the ruts that could undo her with one bad step.
    The thudding of a galloping horse sounded across the field on her right, and she realized she was not going to be able to return the way she’d come. They would be fanning out, hoping to flank her. Sugar built her Fire further. Her limbs surged with joy, and she shot forth.
    She felt the same giddiness rising in her chest as she did when jumping off the top of the Swan Creek waterfall to the pool below, and this time she couldn’t help herself and gave voice to the joyful thrill with a shout.
    She was panting, her lungs burning, and yet, lords of the sky, she didn’t care. Riding this surge of life was like riding a wild and ferocious horse without saddle or stirrup. Perhaps if she just let it go. If she just flowed with it . . .
    This was probably what they had warned her about: the crazed mindlessness of the firelust.
    Her strides were huge, light as a feather, and quick. She was flying. Flying. The sounds of her pursuit receded behind her.
    Could she go even faster?
    An alarm sounded in her mind. With a great effort she tried to reign in her flow, but it would not respond. She tried again. Focused. Bent all her might.
    And she realized why the firelust was so dangerous—she didn’t want to rein it in. She wanted to soar. A tiny fear shot through her. She was at the edge. She was right at the precipice.
    She fought harder although she did not want to. This time her Fire diminished ever so slightly. The road flew beneath her. She shook herself and tried again, fought to rein in her Fire, and the Fire shrank back.
    Lords, she had almost lost herself. And she was still in danger of doing so, for the joy still surged through her. The wild delight still ran along her skin like the electric caress of a lover.
    Slower , she thought. Slower . And she fought to reduce the flow yet again.
    She risked one glance back. The dogs were still behind her, flying over the road. Three riders galloped behind them.
    You could run your body, just as you could a horse, to death. Or to damage. Long-lasting damage. She didn’t know how long she could run like this. She didn’t feel pain, but they’d warned her about that as well—the firejoy buried the pain.
    It didn’t matter. She had to maintain this speed.
    The fields raced past. The wind made her eyes water. More shouts rose from behind, but she focused on her breathing, focused on her lungs working like bellows, focused on the ruts and patches of good ground along the road which bent in a great dogleg to the next village.
    She realized that someone racing a horse straight across the fields would get there before she did. He would rouse the inhabitants. He’d make sure they got their bows. When that happened, those that wanted her dead would then be both in front and behind her. And even though she was fast, she wasn’t running