Shadows of Time: Shadow Maiden by B.R. Nicholson Read Free Book Online

touched with amber and honey, radiating comfort like sunlight
in spring.
    “I saw her again. I have to find her,” said
Merrick, squeezing the words from the tightened grip of his aching
lungs.
    “What are you talking about?” She felt his
flushed face, wiping sweat from his brow. “You’re still feverish.
You need to rest.”
    “No you don’t understand. I have to search
the sky. She’s in the sky.”
    Amaeya stopped and stared deep into his eyes.
“What did you say?”
    “She’s in the sky. I don’t know how, all I
know is that I have to find her before it’s too late.” He looked
deep into her springtime eyes. She touched his face with a soft
touch that reminded him of his dead wife—
    “Rest now. We’ll search for your lady friend
when your fever breaks. Please, sleep, before you get worse.”
    “Promise me you’ll help me.” His eyes rolled
back and forth, glazed over and bleary.
    “I promise.” She smiled, wrapping him tighter
in the sweat-drenched cloak.
    He heaved a sigh of relief. A strange part of
him felt like everything would turn out right because of her
promise.
    If only it were that simple.
     
     
    ***
     
     
    Fanger Al’Rul pawed at his beady,
sleep-ridden eyes, cursing the fool god who invented mornings. Last
night had been one to jump right to the top of his list of the
things most unpleasant, zooming past the one and only time he ever
shared a tent with his disgusting counterpart, Maggot.
    He scratched at his bottom, shaking the horse
flies from his tail, and yawned as if he hadn’t slept in years.
Whatever appeared last night had certainly made an impression on
his father, the Chief. He had ordered the entire war party to pack
up and prepare for march at dawn. Fanger and Maggot were in charge
of the slaves and the transport of the war machine.
    He waddled over to the strange craft. Its
large metal wheels gleamed a wicked black in the morning light. A
gigantic trebuchet lay perched on its top, lashed down and waiting
for battle. Its dark wood was warped from seeing one too many thick
morning fogs. The war party had stumbled across the war machine,
another abandoned weapon of war made by the humans. They always
created more and more efficient ways to kill each other. Fanger
chuckled, wondering if anyone was willing to wager with him how
long it would take before they would finally kill themselves
off.
    The last few decades had been even more
violent than years past. Phookan war parties were nothing compared
to the slaughter the humans inflicted upon themselves. Fanger had
already seen enough battle fields to know that there was little
honor among the race of men. If two Phookan tribes were in
disagreement, the Chiefs would battle, not their people. The
unnecessary killing of other Phooka was looked down upon. The
unnecessary killing of other species, however, was strictly
sport.
    “Maggot! ‘Ey, you filthy beast, get up,
before I chop off your mangy horns and use ‘em as an ass
scratcher!” Fanger kicked him in the rump, sending a puff of dirt
that had been caked in his companion’s fur drifting through the
air.
    “OWWWW! You should know I’m of a rather
delicate composition. My poor mum said so herself, she did.”
    “I don’t care if she said you were a fairy
princess, get up!” Fanger grabbed the cowering Phooka by the horn
and dragged him up to his feet. “Come on, we’ll be leaving any
minute now and those damn slaves are still snoozing away. We need
to get them out and ready to march and pull that blasted machine!
Are you listening?”
    Maggot snapped his eyes back to his,
scratching at his chin like he was going to say something best left
unsaid. “Oh yes. Do you know what’s for breakfast?”
    I wonder how hard I would have to hit him for
him to not remember I hit him at all.
    “Maggot. Dear, sweet, simple Maggot.” Fanger
tried his best to form a natural smile. Instead his snout curled up
in an instinctual snarl.
    “Yes… my sweet, sweet dearie Fanger.”