The Winterstone Plague (The Carrion Cycle) by David Scroggins Read Free Book Online

experience,” Olivar whispered. “I have already attempted to kill the thing.”
    Philip turned to face the mystic. “I need you to take a message to the chapel at once!”
    “Isn’t that old place abandoned?”
    “It was; I have a guest staying there. He is a priest. Fetch him without haste!”
    “What can a simple priest do that we have not already done?”
    “No more questions; please do as I say!”
    Olivar shrouded his face once more in the deep folds of his hood. “As you command, my lord. So it shall be done.”
    “I will wait here for you to return. I want to keep my eye on that bastard. May I sit in the main room?”
    “Of course. We’ll lock him in to be on the safe side.”
    Philip’s body disobeyed his attempts at achieving some semblance of calm. His arms were crawling with goose pimples, and he shook in the way a small child would upon waking up from a terrible nightmare. But he did not have the luxury of waking to find that he was swaddled in blankets, lying comfortably in a soft bed. No one would run into the room to reassure him that nothing was waiting under the bed to harm him. Both of his parents were long dead; Philip had been so young when they passed, he now struggled to remember their faces.
    He walked slowly, each step a deliberate effort, until he reached the room with the vials and potions, and sagged into a stiff chair.
    No man could wake from this nightmare, for it was not a dream.

Chapter 5
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    T HE SNOW showed no signs of easing up, but Alain’s small cottage was only a short distance away now; Valthian could almost make out a tiny square window through the giant white flakes that blocked his vision. Even wrapped in thick furs, he shivered. He couldn’t remember a single time in his life when autumn’s twilight had given way to such a cold winter.
    “We need to get these horses to the stable,” Tomas shouted. “They can’t stand this weather for much longer!”
    “I can get them there,” Alain replied. “You boys get inside so Elyna knows that we made it back safely. I am sure she is worried sick.”
    Valthian nodded and handed over the reigns. He motioned to Tomas to follow, and they struggled against the knee-deep snow to reach the house. He turned to see how Alain was faring with the three horses, but could see nothing through the wall of elements separating them.
    “Come on Val,” Tomas said. “I’m freezing. He’ll be fine!”
    “I know. I just don’t like leaving him out here alone like this.”
    He turned back to the door and tried the simple brass knob. It turned and the door swung open, hinges screeching in protest against the sudden change in weather. 
    “Who goes there? Papa? Is that you?”
    Elyna’s voice had a noticeable tremble; she was standing in the sparsely decorated main room, holding a large iron-wrought scythe in both hands.
    “It’s us! Everything’s fine!” Tomas shouted as Valthian turned to close the door before too much snow blew into the room and put out the crackling fire that was already burning.
    “Valthian? Tomas? What are you two doing here? Where’s papa?”
    “Alain is seeing to our horses,” Valthian replied, stripping off his heavy fur-lined cloak. “He sent us ahead of him to tell you that all is well.”
    She smiled. The lines of worry on her brow smoothed. “I should go to him.”
    “That is not a good idea. The snow is quite deep. You could catch your death out there.”
    “It isn’t going to stop, is it?” Elyna asked.
    Valthian shook his head. “Not tonight, I fear. Perhaps in the morning with some luck.”
    “I’m glad to see the both of you,” Elyna said, taking their cloaks and hanging them on sturdy iron hooks. “But how did you come to be with my father? He told me to keep an eye on things while he went into town to pick up supplies. That was more than four hours ago!”
    “He hasn’t told us anything,” Valthian replied. “All I know is that he practically knocked down