torg 01 - Storm Knights by Bill Slavicsek, C. J. Tramontana Read Free Book Online

for their miserable lives. Perhaps that was why the Gaunt Man was destined to succeed in his grand vision.
    Was it not the way of every reality that the stronger take what they need from the weaker? Does not the wolf kill the deer for sustenance? Why shouldn't the Gaunt Man take what he needs from these pathetic beings? It was the way of nature — no matter what world you were on.
    The hunter entered the small cave. The game was over. He just had to finish his move. Then he could return to the keep.
    "Come with me, stormer," Kurst said, using the words of this world that the Gaunt Man had impressed into his mind. "You never had a chance against me. You are the deer, I am the wolf, and the conclusion of our chase was never in doubt."
    Perhaps the hunter had grown careless. Perhaps his confidence had blocked out the messages of his senses. Whatever the reason, he barely reacted in time as the stormer slashed out with a long knife. As it was, the sharp blade had cut through his tunic, leaving a long gash across his chest. He could smell his own blood, feel the heat of it as it oozed from the gash. It wasn't deep, and he had endured worse pain, but it had been a long time since a quarry had drawn any of his blood, let alone first blood. Perhaps there was more to these stormers, after all.
    "So," the hunter growled as he stepped back, out of range of the knife, "the stormer has claws."
    In the darkness of the cave, the hunter could see the wide whiteness of the stormer's eyes. He could see the glint of the silver blade. But more, he could smell the intense emotions that emanated from the man, a combination of fear and excitement and anger. Suddenly, the hunt had become interesting again.
    "I have claws, too, stormer," Kurst explained in a low, menacing voice.
    He advanced, ready to end the game.
    17
    Penn Station was filled with people. Bryce gaped in astonishment as he and the boys climbed up from the subway platform. Flickering torches were everywhere, and groups huddled around fires burning brightly in trash bins. In recent years more and more homeless people had come to sleep in the semi-warmth of this terminal, but never had the priest seen it filled with refugees. There were so many people, but unlike a normal rush hour, no one was hurrying to catch a train or get to work. These people warmed themselves before fires, or paced nervously, or slept upon the tiled floor.
    "Coyote, who are all these people?" asked Rat.
    "Orphans," Coyote whispered. "Rabbits hiding in
    this hole until the lizards go away."
    Bryce and the boys wandered for a time. The priest looked into frightened faces, confused faces. But he had no words of comfort for these people. He could not think of a thing to say.
    The priest recognized the traditional bums easily. This was where they came to escape the streets and the weather. But now they shared their quarters with businessmen in soiled suits, with young mothers and their crying children, with old women and their mewing, barking pets. They shared their benches with teachers, made room in their corners for office workers. Suddenly, because of the dinosaurs, everyone was a little more like everyone else. Bryce wondered why it took disasters to bring the crowds together.
    He noticed a young woman walking aimlessly, carrying a little girl in her arms. The priest watched as she stumbled once, then twice. He reached her just as she stumbled a third time and caught her before she or the little girl could fall. He helped them down, leaning the woman against a wall.
    "Are you all right, miss?" Bryce asked. Coyote and Rat stood behind him, unsure of whether they should stay or go.
    "I just need to rest a bit," the woman said. Then she noticed Bryce's collar. "Thank you, Father."
    "No trouble at all."
    The little girl reached out and touched the priest's nose, pushing her tiny finger into the bulbous flesh. "Are you a priest?" she asked quietly.
    "Yes, I am."
    "I don't go to church."
    "Honey!" the young woman