The Hero's Tomb by Conrad Mason Read Free Book Online

Through a half-closed eye Joseph glimpsed his attacker’s bony fist, the fingers festooned with spiked iron rings.
    Pretty bad, then.
    But the punch never came.
    Opening his eyes, Joseph saw that the goblin had been distracted by something at the end of the alley. A horse, ambling out of the shadows, hooves clip clopping on cobbles. A grey dappled horse with a mane that flopped down over its eyes. It looked like the one that had given Joseph a fright in Butcher’s Cross. Quite a lot like it.
    Exactly like it.
    ‘Oi,’ snarled Wooden-nose. ‘Whith o’ you idioth forgot to tie up the hortheth?’
    Before any of them could reply, the horse reared up, let out a fearsome neigh and kicked the two nearest Grey Brothers hard in the chest. The goblins went flying, smacking into their friends like stray cannonballs.
    ‘For the Corin’th thake, thomebody get that horth under contr—’
    Wooden-nose never finished his sentence. The horse kicked out again, and his words turned into a pitiful screech as he stumbled backwards, clutching at his face, trying to keep it all in one piece.
    It was now or never. Joseph bolted past the startled goblins, running for the end of the alleyway, clenching the wooden spoon.
    With a clatter of hooves the horse was in front of him, blocking his path. It stood, waiting, as though it wanted him to climb on.
    The Grey Brothers were already picking themselves up. One was loading a blunderbuss. Wooden-nose had found a broken bottle, and was brandishing it like a cutlass.
    Joseph thrust the spoon back into his pocket and threw himself at the horse. It had never occurred to him before that it might be difficult to mount a horse. It looked so easy when he’d seen merchants and militiamen do it. But the best he could manage was a kindof belly flop, landing like a sack of hay, half on and half off.
    The horse took off down the alleyway and out into the street, rapidly reaching a gallop. Joseph let out a long, inconsistent wail as he bumped up and down on its back. His stomach was pummelled again and again, until he was sure he was going to spew fish pie over his rescuer’s flanks. His fingers dug into the dappled hair, desperate for purchase.
    Where in Thalin’s name are we going?
    Not to Jeb the Snitch, that was for sure.
    He caught an occasional glimpse of the streets around him: the glow of light from a tavern doorway; a startled seagull rising into the black sky; a pair of beggars sitting in the shadows and laughing at him. But he couldn’t keep track of which direction they were heading in.
    At last the gallop slowed to a canter, then a trot, until finally the horse was walking. Joseph heard the creak of a door opening up ahead, felt a lintel graze his back as the horse carried him into a gloomy interior. They came to a halt, the hooves thudding on wood.
    Joseph let out a low moan. He tried to move, but that sent a jolt of pain through his belly. He was dizzy, disoriented and hurting all over.
    ‘Off you get,’ said the horse briskly.
    Wait – what? There was no way the horse had just spoken. Somewhere along the line Joseph must have taken a knock to the head and—
    ‘Come on. Haven’t got all day.’
    Joseph slid to his feet, then slumped to his knees. He knelt, panting, fixing the floorboards with an intense stare as he tried to make sense of what was happening.
    I’ve been rescued by a horse. A horse that talks. A talking horse.
    He was dimly aware of someone else in the room, a conversation, movement, but right now it meant nothing to him. He just needed to keep staring, and maybe if he stared hard enough he wouldn’t be sick.
    ‘Don’t try to stand,’ said the horse. Except when Joseph looked up the horse wasn’t a horse any more. Instead he was a broad-shouldered man in a silk dressing gown, smoothing back his long grey-and-white streaked hair and watching Joseph curiously. There was something peculiar about the man’s eyes. So big, so dark, and not human at all. A horse’s