The Ragged Man by Tom Lloyd Read Free Book Online Page A

those doors will not be without peril. The guardian heeds neither God nor mortal. The bones of those who have turned from Ghain’s ascent litter the first step on your journey.’

    Mihn bowed his head in acknowledgment. ‘I thank you, my Lord.’

    ‘You do not fear it?’

    ‘My fear is reserved for others,’ Mihn said, trying to keep his voice from breaking as his throat dried at the thought. Daima had warned him about the journey he would have to take; the Jailer of the Dark was only the most certain of the many horrors he would have to face. But there was no choice.

    ‘Very well. Your have my favour.’ Death gestured to the objects adorning his throne. ‘I offer you the pick of my trophies. Each one bears my blessing, and will keep you safe on the slopes of Ghain. A thousand torments await the judged there, but the taste of the living will be all the sweeter for them.’

    Mihn opened his mouth to speak, then stopped and thought. Of Daima’s many warnings, the first had been to take neither staff nor weapon with him. ‘ Carry nothing but what you wear. A weapon is an invitation to war, and they will smell the blood on it.’

    ‘I thank you, Lord Death, but I do not go to war on Ghenna. I must trust myself alone.’

    He felt the weight on his shoulders lessen as Death sat back in his throne. ‘Good. I had thought to have the Mercies teach you that lesson, but it is one you have already learned.’

    Death raised a bone-white finger and pointed towards the door beneath the great stone dragon. ‘Go then. Find what you seek.’

    Mihn stood and backed out of the black square, bowing all the while. As soon as he was out he saw the woman’s ghost drift within and Death’s gaze lifted as the Herald stepped beside Mihn once more. The small man looked first at Death, then His Herald before rubbing a hand roughly over his face and blinking hard.

    ‘Strange,’ Mihn commented to the expressionless Aspect of Death. ‘I never really thought I’d even get this far.’

    There was no reply, or even a sign the Herald had heard him. Mihn gestured towards the door and set off towards it, the Herald beside him.

    ‘Now I just have to break into the Dark Place itself.’

    As he walked, he felt the weight on his shoulders returning with every step.

     
    Venn moved with the painful care of an old man whose next fall would be his last. Walking across the floor of the shrine cavern and up the gently sloped tunnel that led to the Land outside, even so short a distance, left the renegade Harlequin fatigued and huffing for breath in the cold air. He found the steps up to the tunnel particularly difficult; the priestess, Paen, was at his side and had to help him balance as he lifted one foot after the other.

    She seemed taller now than when he’d first returned, when her pride had been the key Venn had used to unlock the Harlequin clans - she was standing tall and strong and proud while Venn grew steadily weaker. His unnatural grace was a distant memory now, his speed as absent as the whipcord strength he’d once boasted.

    Paen tried to dissuade him from this daily pilgrimage, but Venn knew he had to do it. With two heartbeats hammering in his ears and the breath of two men forcing its way through his lips, Venn knew he had to force himself to move each day, no matter how hard, otherwise he would slowly succumb to the fatigue that was deep in his bones. It was bitterly cold outside, where the snow still lay thick on the ground, but that was still preferable to an interminable tramp around the vast cavern, past the shrines and open temples that littered it.

    Jackdaw was silent, even after Venn had dismissed the priestess and two apprentice Harlequins who watched over him with possessive reverence. The black-clad Harlequin was the herald of a new dawn in their eyes; something between an oracle of the Gods and a prophet. They feared and worshipped him in equal measure.

    Jackdaw remained a secret from all the others, but