High Deryni Read Online Free Page A

really wanted to rise against th’ duke,” Mal found himself saying. “He was a good enough sort before he started dabblin’ in that accursed Deryni magic. There were even churchmen who called theyselves his friend.” He paused for an instant, then slapped his palm against the ground for emphasis.
    â€œBut th’ archbishops say he’s o’erstepped the bounds even a duke may go. He an’ that Deryni cousin o’ his desecrated th’ Shrine o’ Saint Torin last winter.” He snorted contemptuously. “Now there’s one who’ll pay in th’ Hereafter—that McLain: a priest o’ God, an’ Deryni a’ the while.
    â€œAnyway, when they would nae surrender theyselves to the judgment o’ the Curia for their sins, an’ some o’ the Corwyner folk said they’d stand by the duke an’ his kinsman even if they was excommunicated, th’ archbishops put th’ Interdict on all o’ Corwyn. Warin says the only way we can get it lifted is to capture th’ duke and turn him over to th’ archbishops in Coroth—an’ help Warin rid the land o’ every other Deryni, too. That’s the only way to— aiiie! Careful o’ me leg, man!”
    Mal sank back, half-fainting, against the ground, dimly aware through the haze of pain that both men were now bent intently over his leg. He could feel hot blood streaming down his thigh, the pressure of the bandage one man applied, the surge of new blood as that bandage soaked through and had to be replaced by a fresh one.
    Consciousness was fading with the ebbing blood when he felt a cool hand on his forehead and heard a low voice say, “Just relax, Mal. You’re going to be fine, but we’ll have to help you along a little. Relax and go to sleep…and forget all of this.”
    As awareness slipped away, Malcolm Donalson heard the second man murmuring words he could not understand, felt a warmth creeping into his wound, a soothing calmness pervading every sense. Then he was opening his eyes, a bloodied sliver of metal clutched in his hand, and the two men were packing up their belongings in the brown leather pouch. The blond man smiled reassuringly as he saw Mal’s eyes open, and raised the wounded man’s head to put a water flask to his lips. Mal swallowed automatically, his mind whirling as he tried to remember what had happened. The strange gray eyes of the blond man were only inches away.
    â€œI—I’m still alive,” he whispered dazedly. “I thought I’d died, I really did.” He glanced at the sliver of metal in his hand. “It—it’s almost like a miracle.”
    â€œNonsense. You fainted; that’s all. Do you think you can sit up? Your ride is here.”
    As the man eased Mal’s head back and stoppered the flask, Mal became aware of others standing nearby: the boy Royston holding the tattered lead of a scruffy donkey; a thin, fragile-looking woman with a rough-woven shawl over her head who could only be the boy’s mother. Abruptly he was aware of the sliver of metal still clutched in his fist, and he glanced up at the blond man again, avoiding the gray eyes.
    â€œI—I dinnae know how to thank ye,” he stammered. “Ye saved—”
    â€œThere’s no need,” the man replied with a smile. He held out a hand and assisted Mal to his feet. “Leave the bandages in place for at least a week before you try to change them, and then be careful to keep the wound clean until it’s healed. You’re lucky that it wasn’t as bad as it looked.”
    â€œAye,” Mal whispered, moving dazedly toward the donkey and limping heavily.
    As Mal reached the side of the donkey, Royston threw his arms around his friend in a brief hug, then held the animal’s head while their two benefactors assisted Mal to mount. The woman stood back fearfully, not understanding what had happened, yet