Gathering Of The God-Touched (Book 4) by Ron Collins Read Free Book Online
Authors: Ron Collins
and looped his belt around his waist, settled both a dagger and a short sword into their places, and mounted his horse.
He glanced up the mountain, then spurred the horse, and raced into the pass that climbed toward the chamber at the peak of God’s Tower.
He was well into the foothills before he realized that, once again, he had forgotten to ask the ranger’s name.
Chapter 14
The horse kicked up a billowing cloud of dust as Garrick thundered through the lowlands and entered a sheer pass that twisted farther upward. Wind whistled, and his shirt whipped against his chest. The terrain grew rockier until he came to a place no beast could carry him, so he left the horse free to roam. The animal was trained well, and should remain close by. Not that he expected to need it.
Garrick climbed the steep path by hand and foot, picking his way upward as quickly as he could until he arrived at a dark crevasse that opened into the heart of the mountain. A glance downward gave him a perfect view of the massive armies of the orders gathered to the east and west, their Koradictine and Lectodinian mages wearing colorful robes of red and blue.
Distracted, he stepped into the crevasse, and a stinging jolt showered him with red sparks.
He scuttled backward and felt magic covering the entrance.
He approached again, touching his link and letting magestuff flow through his gates. He splayed his hand, whispered magic, and channeled energy. This was a warding spell, so he poured magestuff into the barrier and spoke a word of power Alistair had once taught him worked on locks. The barrier shattered, and he slipped through the opening with renewed confidence.
The passage inside was cold, and rose so steeply he sometimes needed to use both hands and feet to climb on.
He cast magelight upon the edge of his dagger, gripping it with nervous energy.
The passage necked down, forcing him to squeeze through rock that was cold and hard. Soon he came to a chamber the size of Alistair’s laboratory. There was power here. He felt it as an unpleasant tingle inside his belly.
A caustic wall of odor hit him like a mix of vinegar and rotten seaweed.
An amorphous mass of green and brown slime coalesced before him, a strange, formless thing with appendages that might have been eyes. Bile caught in his throat as the creature sluiced a tentacle toward him.
Garrick slashed with his dagger.
He missed, but it bought him time to draw his sword and hack at it. The slime fell back with a hiss, but his blade became warped and useless. He tossed it aside, giving the creature time to reach another slimy arm toward him. He ducked and funneled magestuff into his spell work.
Fire sprang from his palm, and a roaring sizzle filled the chamber with noxious mist.
Garrick’s head swam, and the chamber spun. He fell to one knee and found the air cleaner near the floor. So he drew a quick breath, pulled his bandana over his mouth, and rolled away as the creature swung a mottled arm the size of a tree trunk.
From this angle, Garrick saw he had burned a gaping hole into the creature, but the wound didn’t stop it. It swung another gooey pod, forcing him to cast a barrier that deflected the blow before unleashing another stream of fire. A roar like water hitting oil filled Garrick’s ears. Swamp fog brought tears to his eyes.
He covered his face and ran through the mist, preparing himself to crash into the girth of the creature’s bulk.
But instead his leap found nothing but air.
He tumbled headlong through the chamber, rolling by luck into another small crease that fell into another tunnel, slanting upward. The creature didn’t follow. Had Garrick killed it? Now was not the time to find out.
He scrambled away, crawling on hands and feet and elbows and knees until he was certain he was out of danger.
Then he sat back against ice-cold rock and gasped for breath.
That had been close. So close. After all this, his story had nearly come to its anonymous end at the
He glanced up the mountain, then spurred the horse, and raced into the pass that climbed toward the chamber at the peak of God’s Tower.
He was well into the foothills before he realized that, once again, he had forgotten to ask the ranger’s name.
Chapter 14
The horse kicked up a billowing cloud of dust as Garrick thundered through the lowlands and entered a sheer pass that twisted farther upward. Wind whistled, and his shirt whipped against his chest. The terrain grew rockier until he came to a place no beast could carry him, so he left the horse free to roam. The animal was trained well, and should remain close by. Not that he expected to need it.
Garrick climbed the steep path by hand and foot, picking his way upward as quickly as he could until he arrived at a dark crevasse that opened into the heart of the mountain. A glance downward gave him a perfect view of the massive armies of the orders gathered to the east and west, their Koradictine and Lectodinian mages wearing colorful robes of red and blue.
Distracted, he stepped into the crevasse, and a stinging jolt showered him with red sparks.
He scuttled backward and felt magic covering the entrance.
He approached again, touching his link and letting magestuff flow through his gates. He splayed his hand, whispered magic, and channeled energy. This was a warding spell, so he poured magestuff into the barrier and spoke a word of power Alistair had once taught him worked on locks. The barrier shattered, and he slipped through the opening with renewed confidence.
The passage inside was cold, and rose so steeply he sometimes needed to use both hands and feet to climb on.
He cast magelight upon the edge of his dagger, gripping it with nervous energy.
The passage necked down, forcing him to squeeze through rock that was cold and hard. Soon he came to a chamber the size of Alistair’s laboratory. There was power here. He felt it as an unpleasant tingle inside his belly.
A caustic wall of odor hit him like a mix of vinegar and rotten seaweed.
An amorphous mass of green and brown slime coalesced before him, a strange, formless thing with appendages that might have been eyes. Bile caught in his throat as the creature sluiced a tentacle toward him.
Garrick slashed with his dagger.
He missed, but it bought him time to draw his sword and hack at it. The slime fell back with a hiss, but his blade became warped and useless. He tossed it aside, giving the creature time to reach another slimy arm toward him. He ducked and funneled magestuff into his spell work.
Fire sprang from his palm, and a roaring sizzle filled the chamber with noxious mist.
Garrick’s head swam, and the chamber spun. He fell to one knee and found the air cleaner near the floor. So he drew a quick breath, pulled his bandana over his mouth, and rolled away as the creature swung a mottled arm the size of a tree trunk.
From this angle, Garrick saw he had burned a gaping hole into the creature, but the wound didn’t stop it. It swung another gooey pod, forcing him to cast a barrier that deflected the blow before unleashing another stream of fire. A roar like water hitting oil filled Garrick’s ears. Swamp fog brought tears to his eyes.
He covered his face and ran through the mist, preparing himself to crash into the girth of the creature’s bulk.
But instead his leap found nothing but air.
He tumbled headlong through the chamber, rolling by luck into another small crease that fell into another tunnel, slanting upward. The creature didn’t follow. Had Garrick killed it? Now was not the time to find out.
He scrambled away, crawling on hands and feet and elbows and knees until he was certain he was out of danger.
Then he sat back against ice-cold rock and gasped for breath.
That had been close. So close. After all this, his story had nearly come to its anonymous end at the
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