Gemini Thunder by Chris Page Read Free Book Online Page A

overcome them.’
    ‘As we will,’ said Desmond.
    Twilight stopped at the stone of Zero the Romany and turned to face his companion.
    .fiftieth stone
    ‘It was a sea eagle. A big, fast, and very powerful bird with talons like metal thorns and a beak that will tear through flesh and sinew like a lance through soft fruit. Swooped on them from above, they never stood a chance.’
    ‘Did it have an aura?’
    ‘It did, and therefore is in ligamen to a Viking veneficus. A normal sea eagle does not kill indiscriminately, only what it needs to eat.’
    They walked on.
    ‘You have replaced the birds that were killed?’
    ‘I have but with a different strategy. The killer sea eagle will be back, and this time we will be ready for it. Although they mate for life, sea eagles spend a great deal of time alone. This one will be alone as it was when it attacked my birds. There are many pairs of pica but few sea eagles.’
    Twilight was right. Three days later the deadly sea eagle once again rode the thermals high above the Wessex coastline, its sharp eyes again covering every movement below. Its master had been very pleased with the pica killed and had proudly paraded the huge hawk in front of King Guthrum at the final celebrations. The cries for his prowess had rang out around the feasting hall and many toasts were drunk to his name from the ale-horns.
    ‘To Boma, the pica killer!’
    ‘Boma, a true feathered Viking!’ ‘Boma, the brave warrior of the skies!’
    In truth it had slightly turned the eagle’s magnificent head. There was a strut about his walk that had not been there before, and more than a hint of invincible arrogance had crept into an already proud mien. Which, given that this was a creature that relied upon its instant reading of situations and its reaction to them, could be very dangerous.
    Movement below!
    A telltale black-and-white bird with one of its wings dragging along the ground flapped awkwardly in panic as it struggled out of a patch of small bushes to reach the relative safety of the tree line. An injured pica on the ground was as easy as it got. Wheeling into a steep dive and with the mighty wings swept back into a chevron, Boma arrowed in on the stricken bird. Sensing his presence, the pica flapped and crabbed frantically in its endeavours to reach the trees. Warm pica blood from yet another ripped throat from his sharp, curved beak began to assail Boma’s senses as he extended his talons to maximum and spread the huge wings to airbrake onto the back of the terrified bird, which had now given up and crouched in abject terror awaiting its death. In an explosion of sand, dust, and soil Boma hit the spot.
    Nothing. There was nothing there.
    Winded by the impact that should have been cushioned by the yielding body of the pica, Boma paused momentarily to try and work out why it had missed its quarry.
    So quick was the fishing net sprung that Boma was caught with his great wings still open. As it struggled with slashing curved beak and talons to free itself, the fine jute mesh wrapped itself ever more tightly around the huge bird. Soon it was completely immobile, trussed up like a bluebottle in a spider’s web.
    The conspicuous apparition had worked again, this time as a wounded and helpless pica.
    ‘The trouble with beautiful animals in ligamen to heathens,’ said Twilight in a matter-of-fact voice, appearing by the trapped bird’s side, ‘is that they take on all the worst characteristics of the human species they live with. They have removed all of the natural grace you were gifted at birth and replaced it with their own lust for blood.’
    The Wessex veneficus looked deep into the eagle’s eyes for a moment, reading only hatred and still some surprise at its capture. The aura was strangely weak and the veneficus to whom it was in ligamen hazy.
    ‘They named you Boma. Well, Boma, you have killed forty of my birds, and that I cannot allow.’
    He knelt down and tapped the top of its head to