Die for the Flame by William Gehler Read Free Book Online Page A

became aware of someone beside him.
    “Beautiful morning, don’t you think?” said the figure.
    Clarian turned to glance at the speaker just as the speaker turned to glance at him. The first thing Clarian noticed were the eyes, gleaming just like a cat’s with that star-shape in the center. Maggan!
    Both of them jumped back with startled grunts and both caught their feet in tree roots and fell. Clarian landed on his back. The Maggan recovered first and jumped on top of him. They wrestled furiously. The Maggan was smaller, but quick and strong. As they grappled, Clarian couldn’t reach his knife, and he worried that the Maggan would pull one. They rolled, fighting furiously, among the tree roots. Clarian grabbed at the Maggan’s head, and the helmet slipped off, and long black hair tumbled out. The Maggan squirmed away and, sitting up, planted a hard kick into Clarian’s chest. Clarian kicked back, and they both delivered a series of kicks, each sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree trunk and kicking the other as hard as could be.
    “You’re a woman!” exclaimed Clarian.
    “You Karran dog!” she snarled.
    “You’re a Maggan!” he exclaimed in amazement.
    “What did you think you’d find in our camp?” she hissed.
    “Surrender!”
    “You’re my prisoner!” she said.
    “You’re my prisoner!” he said.
    “You can never get out of here now,” she taunted him.
    “I can get out. Besides, I heard you eat your prisoners. I’m not interested in staying around for that,” he said.
    “I’m going to get a lot of pleasure out of eating your heart, Karran.”
    The kicking stopped as each struggled upright.
    The light from the many campfires cast enough light for Clarian to see her clearly. She had thick, shoulder-length, blue-black hair, braided on the sides; milk-white skin; green luminous eyes; and a face more lovely than any he had ever seen.
    Clarian and Neevan both stood up at the same time. Clarian was considering what to do. Neevan glanced sideways toward the camp.
    Clarian shouldered Neevan into a recess in a tree trunk, his hand over her mouth. Her body barely fit into it. She attempted to draw her dagger. Clarian knocked it away and drew his.
    Clarian pressed the blade against Neevan’s throat, his face only inches from hers as they stared into each other’s eyes. He was mesmerized by her eyes and by the sheer beauty of her face.
    “I have to sound the alarm,” she whispered. “It’s my duty.”
    “Why does it always come to this?”
    She turned her face, fully expecting the knife to bite deep into her neck.
    “Not today, woman.”
    He slammed the haft of his dagger against her head and as she dropped to the ground, he was gone, running hard for his life into the trees and the darkness.
    A horn sounded in the camp, and Clarian could hear shouting behind him.
    Heavily winded, he found his horse, mounted, and urged it into a swift gallop. In short order, he broke out of the forest. He raced across the valley, splashed through the stream, and thundered down the road away from the forest.
    The sound of horses’ hooves pounding hard behind told him all he needed to know. Clarian cast a look over his shoulder and could see riders in the gloom. He knew his horse was tiring after the long ride to the Forest of Darkness, and he was sure the Maggan were on fresh horses.
    The moon was breaking out, casting a dim light on the rough landscape. He could see just ahead that the trail climbed up a steep grade and topped a bare hill. At the top of the hill, he reined in his horse and retrieved his bow. He waited as the Maggan warriors raced for him. He deliberately notched an arrow, drew back his bow, and snapped off a shot. The arrow arched through the night and thudded into a Maggan soldier, who toppled off his horse.
    Clarian drew back again. Another shot, and a soldier flipped back over his horse. The Maggan soldiers reined in their horses, spinning about and shouting.
    At that moment, Martan and