Three Slices by Chuck Wendig, Kevin Hearne, Delilah S. Dawson Read Free Book Online Page A
Tags: General Fiction
me detailed answers, so it’s rushing and it’s no good. It’s like when you force a high volume of water through a small area—all you get is pressure and noise.”
Oberon, who I thought had been dreaming of small rascally dogs, had woken up at some point and chose to offer his own analogy.
You’ve never been to a comic con.
“Okay, Mekera, thank you. How much time left until sundown?”
A glance at her wristwatch and she said, “A little over an hour.”
“Okay, gather whatever you like and we’ll run to the nearest tree I can tether.”
“What about the thrall?”
“I can take care of him first if you want.”
“Well, shouldn’t we?”
“Not unless you believe he’s an immediate threat. The vampires will be able to track us by scent whether he’s alive or not. He will probably wait for the vampires to arrive and then point in whichever direction we run, hoping to be rewarded.”
Mekera disagreed. “I think they will tell him to follow us and phone in updates as they close in. He has a satellite phone.”
That could potentially cause problems. If we ran back toward the trees we used to shift into the area, we would be heading in the direction the vampires were most likely to come from, nearest to the local airport at Gambela. If we spent time searching for the thrall, every minute would be one less we could use in escaping. We could run away from the airport instead, searching for an exit point to the south and thus increasing the transit time of any pursuers over land, but I would then need some time to bind a new tree to Tir na nÓg. There were risks no matter what we chose.
“Do you know of a large tree somewhere to the south of here?” I asked. The small scrub species I’d seen peppering the savannah were too fragile to be anchored to Tir na nÓg. Mekera’s eyes swung up to the ceiling as she thought it over, then snapped back to me once she remembered.
“Yes. There’s a baobab tree down that way, an old one.”
“How far?”
The tyromancer shrugged. “Ten miles? Fifteen?”
That would probably work out well. The thrall, whoever he was, wouldn’t be able to keep up with us on a ten-mile run, and the vampires wouldn’t be able to move at full speed while they were tracking us.
“All right, let’s go as soon as you can manage.”
After consulting with Odin, the Bifrost deposits us back at the foreman’s house alone. Orlaith’s snout rises immediately to sample the air.
Where? Not our cabin?
Let’s go, but quietly.
Atticus and I had warded the cabin against fire, but only the magical kind that Brighid or Loki might sling around. It’s not immune to a match and lighter fluid. As we draw closer, however, Orlaith reports that the smoke isn’t coming from our cabin at all. she says.
Okay. I want to check the cabin first, though. I actually want to check the wards to see if they have been disturbed or if anyone or anything is hiding nearby. Fires are infamous distractions and I don’t want to fall for it.
Putting my hand to the earth outside our cabin and speaking the words for magical sight, I examine our wards and see nothing wrong with them; they remain intact. No flames dancing in the windows, either, so that’s a plus.
Staying alert and guarded, I pad down through the white pillars of aspen trees to Sneffels Creek, the cold mountain stream that eventually feeds the Uncompahgre River in Ouray, reminding Orlaith to remain at my side and not rush ahead. A plume of smoke in the air draws me to a dangerously large fire and an extremely tall figure standing over it, arms crossed.
A curtain of lank, dirty blond hair obscures his features at
Oberon, who I thought had been dreaming of small rascally dogs, had woken up at some point and chose to offer his own analogy.
You’ve never been to a comic con.
“Okay, Mekera, thank you. How much time left until sundown?”
A glance at her wristwatch and she said, “A little over an hour.”
“Okay, gather whatever you like and we’ll run to the nearest tree I can tether.”
“What about the thrall?”
“I can take care of him first if you want.”
“Well, shouldn’t we?”
“Not unless you believe he’s an immediate threat. The vampires will be able to track us by scent whether he’s alive or not. He will probably wait for the vampires to arrive and then point in whichever direction we run, hoping to be rewarded.”
Mekera disagreed. “I think they will tell him to follow us and phone in updates as they close in. He has a satellite phone.”
That could potentially cause problems. If we ran back toward the trees we used to shift into the area, we would be heading in the direction the vampires were most likely to come from, nearest to the local airport at Gambela. If we spent time searching for the thrall, every minute would be one less we could use in escaping. We could run away from the airport instead, searching for an exit point to the south and thus increasing the transit time of any pursuers over land, but I would then need some time to bind a new tree to Tir na nÓg. There were risks no matter what we chose.
“Do you know of a large tree somewhere to the south of here?” I asked. The small scrub species I’d seen peppering the savannah were too fragile to be anchored to Tir na nÓg. Mekera’s eyes swung up to the ceiling as she thought it over, then snapped back to me once she remembered.
“Yes. There’s a baobab tree down that way, an old one.”
“How far?”
The tyromancer shrugged. “Ten miles? Fifteen?”
That would probably work out well. The thrall, whoever he was, wouldn’t be able to keep up with us on a ten-mile run, and the vampires wouldn’t be able to move at full speed while they were tracking us.
“All right, let’s go as soon as you can manage.”
After consulting with Odin, the Bifrost deposits us back at the foreman’s house alone. Orlaith’s snout rises immediately to sample the air.
Where? Not our cabin?
Let’s go, but quietly.
Atticus and I had warded the cabin against fire, but only the magical kind that Brighid or Loki might sling around. It’s not immune to a match and lighter fluid. As we draw closer, however, Orlaith reports that the smoke isn’t coming from our cabin at all.
Okay. I want to check the cabin first, though. I actually want to check the wards to see if they have been disturbed or if anyone or anything is hiding nearby. Fires are infamous distractions and I don’t want to fall for it.
Putting my hand to the earth outside our cabin and speaking the words for magical sight, I examine our wards and see nothing wrong with them; they remain intact. No flames dancing in the windows, either, so that’s a plus.
Staying alert and guarded, I pad down through the white pillars of aspen trees to Sneffels Creek, the cold mountain stream that eventually feeds the Uncompahgre River in Ouray, reminding Orlaith to remain at my side and not rush ahead. A plume of smoke in the air draws me to a dangerously large fire and an extremely tall figure standing over it, arms crossed.
A curtain of lank, dirty blond hair obscures his features at
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