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.Bastun followed, stabbing the ancient blade into the creature before it scrambled out of reach.The beast crawled over the side of the wall and disappeared.Turning back to the battle, he found Thaena gone, but he heard her voice calling out to charge the guard tower.In the place where she had been Anilya now stood.The durthan faced him with sudden interest in her eyes, her gaze lingering on the Breath before turning to join the others.Her figure became a blur through the snow, silhouetted against the madly dancing sparks of torches in the distance.Somewhere in the battle, Thaena began casting, sending bright beams of light (lashing through the darkness and burning the circling nighthaunts.Bastun shoved the Breath back into his belt and forced his legs to move, stumbling through the snow and trying to catch up.He knelt to retrieve his staff and lit his way along the wall, following in the deeper paths.The figures ahead disappeared, one by one, into the white wall of the guard tower.The storm shoved him from left to right, wind screaming in his ears.The dancing lights blinked out, leaving him nearly blind beyond the reach of his staff s illumination.The slamming of a heavy door resounded like an executioners axe against the block.He passed lifeless figures lying in the snow, but not as many as he had feared—and most were of Anilya's band.Through the chaos of the winter storm he heard the faint beating of wings.Glimpses of flitting shadows gave him strength, and he quickened his step as much as his aching body would allow.He imagined them circling overhead like giant vultures, licking their wounds, angry at the feast lost in the tower and hungrily eyeing the lone wizard picking his way toward escape.The tower wall appeared through the windy murk, its door firmly shut.He threw his shoulder against the door, wincing in pain when it didn't budge.He beat on the door with his staff.No answer came from within.Placing his back to the tower he summoned his axe blade and kicked the door.The nighthaunts landed on the wall, shaking their horned heads in excitement as they crawled nearer.Half a dozen of the beasts appeared, their bodies like holes cut from the cloth of reality.Voice ragged and throat raw with cold, Bastun managed to summon the words of a spell.A burst of scintillating colors lit the scene and scattered the creatures, buying him a few more moments.He slammed his fist into the door in anger.To break it down would mean death for the fang within.And Thaena.Turning, he planted his feet solidly and prepared to die fighting, assuming a stooped battle stance and flexing muscles fraught with pain.Sensing his resignation the nighthaunts' wings shivered and drew tight, like the hackles of wolves smelling prey with nowhere left to run.One lunged forward, eager to feed first.Bastun roared and raised his axe, but rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him backward.He fell, flailing into the tower as the door slammed shut behind him.Claws raked on the door outside as he was spun around and shoved against a wall.Torches blinded his eyes and his axe was snatched away.A strong arm held him tight, though he had no strength to resist.Blinking fiercely, the blurry shape in front of him came into focus slowly, revealing the runic tattoos and snarling visage of Syrolf.Bastun froze as torchlight glistened on the cold edge placed against his neck.chapter sixteenN° words were needed.SyrolPs eyes told it all.Too weak to defend himself against the punch to his stomach, Bastun took it and doubled over in pain.The sword at his throat disappeared only for its pommel to come crashing down on his skull.He fell to his hands, vision swimming as the room erupted into chaos.Shouts and curses surrounded him as Duras tackled Syrolf.Coughing, Bastun crawled against the wall and lay on his side.The fang had become a tangle of legs and arms as supporters of Duras leaped to his aid against those siding with Syrolf.Their eyes were bloodshot and without reason as they punched and kicked at one another.Though a common sight in the berserker lodges, this brawl stemmed from more than simple rivalry.His eyes clearing, Bastun watched as the floor came alive.The shadows of the combatants peeled away from the stone, growing darker as tendrils reached and snatched.Beneath the curses and shouts he heard the undercurrent of whispers, the nonsensical ravings of the shadowy children as they played in the fertile ground of the Rashemi's minds.The black stream of spirits filled cracks in the floor, bending and twisting as it made its way toward Bastun.Drawing back against the wall, his hand went to the Breath, making the shadows pull away.Before he could study theeffect, the room rippled and changed.Ghostly images overlaid themselves among the fighting Rashemi [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]