Stormrider by David Gemmell Read Free Book Online Page A

me.”
    “What did the face say to you?”
    “He told me I was evil and I was going to die. He said a bear would eat me up.”
    “And that is what you told your daddy?”
    “Yes.”
    “Have you seen the face again, Feargol?”
    “No.”
    “If you do, then tell me.”
    “Is there anything to eat?” asked Feargol.
    “You have a mind like a butterfly,” Kaelin told him, laughing. Just then there came a faint noise. Feargol was about to speak, but Kaelin hushed him. Then it came again—but not from outside the cave. Kaelin turned his gaze to the mass of broken rock. Suddenly the wall trembled, and a muffled roar sounded.
    Hang-lip had found a way up into the cliff!
    Kaelin scrambled up, gathering the musket. Just as he did so, the wall trembled again, and several boulders tumbled into the cave. Dust filled the air. More rocks fell, and Kaelin saw Hang-lip’s huge, scorched head. Raising the musket, he fired. The shot hit the bear in the mouth, snapping one of its front teeth. Furiously the beast thrashed at the rocks. Kaelin dropped the musket and drew his pistol, sending another shot into the bear’s throat. A huge boulder gave way, and Hang-lip surged up and into the cave. Kaelin let the pistol fall and swept up the spear. With a battle cry he leaped at the huge beast, plunging the spear deep into its chest, driving it on, seeking the heart. A taloned paw smashed into his shoulder. The spear snapped in two, and Kaelin was hurled over the rocks. His left arm numbed by the blow, he rolled to his knees, drawing his hunting knife from its sheath. Without thinking, he surged up and charged the bear. Blood was pouring from its throat, and the broken spear was wedged deep. Ducking under the beast’s jaws, Kaelin slammed his knife into its belly.
    A shot thundered. The bear’s head jerked up, then its body sagged and fell across the young Rigante. Kaelin lay very still. The bear’s head was on his chest, and he could hear its ragged breathing. Slowly the sound grew more rasping until it was little more than a whisper. Then it ceased.
    Kaelin eased himself from under the beast. As he did so, he saw that its right eye had been shot through. He turned. Little Feargol was sitting by the fire, Kaelin’s pistol smoking in his hands.
    “Did I kill it, Uncle Kaelin?”
    “You did,” said the man. Feeling was coming back into his arm, and he flexed his fingers. He sank down next to Feargol and retrieved his pistol. Then he put his hand on the child’s shoulder. “Did I not tell you I had a magic eye? You have killed Hang-lip and avenged your family. You are a hero, Feargol.”
    “I don’t want to be a hero anymore, Uncle Kaelin,” said the child, tears in his eyes.
    Kaelin drew the boy into a hug. “I know. We shall go soon. I am very proud of you, little man. Your daddy would be, too.”
    Feargol began to cry. Kaelin patted the boy’s back. “All right, let us dress warmly and take to the snow.”

    A bitter wind blew across the waters of Sorrow Bird Lake, moonlight flickering on the crests of the tiny waves as they lapped against the ice forming around the shoreline. Snow lay thick on the branches of the pine trees bordering the shore, and a heavy silence hung over the winter land.
    The night sky was brilliantly lit by a full moon. Around it stars glittered diamond-bright against the impenetrable blackness of the heavens.
    At the center of the lake was a small wooded island. Just within the tree line stood a roughly built sod-roofed hut. Hazy smoke drifted from its cast-iron chimney.
    In the open doorway of the hut stood a small, slender woman, a pale blue and green shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her white hair, normally tied in a single braid, hung loose, the cold breeze rippling through it.
    The Wyrd’s spirits were low, and she felt old and alone.
    The Redeemers had found the path to her spirit, and she was running out of tricks to thwart them. Spirit journeys now were fraught with peril.
    Despair