The Fabled Beast of Elddon by David Barber Read Free Book Online Page A

snarled, lower down, and louder than Tristan would
have liked. “I feel like I have a couple of pack horses on my shoulders. Onar’s
beard, but neither of you is as light as you appear.”
    Tristan
gripped the bars with one hand, raising his head just enough that he could peer
between them. The entrance to the dungeon pit was near the back wall of a
larger chamber beneath the west tower, and across the way he could see two men
seated at a table. The men had been playing knucklebones and drinking, their
raucous jokes and loud conversation like the gurgle of a nearby stream. Now the
two were slumped across the table, snoring contentedly.
    “I
only calmed them,” Loth whispered, “so it is a natural sleep they are in. Try
not to make too much noise if you can help it. They could still wake at any time.”
    Tristan
felt a trickle of sweat run down the side of his face. He glanced to his left
to where the lock was, then lowered his head. Carefully, he reached down and
pulled the nail from beneath his belt. He reached through the bars, gripping
the slim piece of metal tightly, praying he would not drop it. He slid his
fingers across the cold iron, probing the surface until he found the slot in
the center of the lock. Slowly, carefully, he maneuvered the nail, sinking it
into the opening. He pulled back on it, bending the nail slightly. He fumbled
it and a jolt of panic surged through his frame like a lightning bolt. But the
nail did not fall and his fingers closed around it once more.
    Tristan
took a breath, steadying himself, then held it as he began working the lock. He
could hear Ander groaning and grumbling below, could hear the elluen’s steady
breathing, could hear the snoring of the guards and somewhere, far off, the faint
echo of dripping water. The seconds rolled by, becoming an eternity as Tristan
focused on his task. But then he was rewarded by a small sound, a faint metallic
click as the lock snapped open.
    “Got
it!” Tristan whispered urgently.
    “Well
done,” Loth said. “Now see if you can lift the grate, but be careful not to let
it fall or the game is up.”
    Tristan
tucked the nail away beneath his belt, then took hold of the grate and pushed
it up. The aged hinges groaned, but he moved it slowly, taking his time despite
the urgency of the blood pulsing through his veins. After what seemed like an
hour, the door settled back and he was able to pry his numb fingers off the
bars.
    Tristan
gripped the edge of the opening with both hands and pulled himself up, feeling
another surge of panic as his feet left the elluen’s shoulders. He swung there
for a moment, feet kicking as he struggled to throw an elbow up over the edge
of the frame, but he finally managed it. Grunting softly, he hauled himself up
out of the dungeon pit.
    He
stood, shaking all over. He ran a hand through his thick hair and took a long,
steadying breath, letting it out slowly. The guards slept on, dreaming their
sodden dreams.
    “The
ladder!” Ander’s voice, low and urgent, came to him from below. “Get the damned
ladder!”
    Tristan
moved cautiously forward. The ladder was on the floor, leaning against the
wall, just out of reach of the two sleeping guards. Tristan paused, only feet
away from the two men and took hold of the ladder, lifting it. The wood was
heavy in his hands and the length of it made the ladder unwieldy. Tristan took
a couple steps back, and swung it around, watching one end and narrowly missing
knocking the other against the heads of the sleepers. He staggered forward,
managed to slip the end of the ladder into the opening, and shoved it down.
    The
shifting weight of the ladder as it slid down through the hole pulled Tristan
off balance. He gave a small yelp as the wrung came loose from his sweat-slickened
hand and clattered along the metal, striking the floor below with a thump.
    Tristan
started forward. It appeared the ladder had ended up in roughly the right
position, albeit slightly askew.
    “Oy,
what’s