Rainbow's End - Wizard Read Online Free Page B

and very obviously the leader of the pack. The thick silver chain hanging around his neck set him further apart, as did the crystal attached to it. It was multi-faceted: some deep and darkly black, others streaked with seams in a hundred shades of grey. The boy took another step forward and hated the frightened tremble of his own voice.
    ‘There’s no moon Kraylle. No moon over Northern England and Scotland.’
    ‘Say what?’ The sitting figure leaned further forward, his voice softer still - more ominous.
    The boy swallowed hard, and keeping his eyes fixed on Kraylle’s fur lined seal-skin boots, repeated what he knew the menacing figure had heard the first time.
    Kraylle exploded then: erupted from his icy chair and reared up like the polar bear whose skin he wore. Two bright spots of red coloured his high, pale cheekbones and he roared, ‘Then go wait for it! Travel and wait for the moon, you imbeciles!’ He took a step down and the boys retreated before him; then he swept one arm in a huge arc - in an away-motion; and screamed again, ‘Out! All of you - out! Get! Out!!’
    Like a single body, the boys turned and fled, pushing and shoving at each other ; one or two falling in their frenzied attempt to flee the room and its deranged occupant.
    There are no doors in Kraylle’s castle, and after fighting and pushing through the room’s high arch, the boys fled down one after the other long dark passage; their only light an occasional smoky oil lamp, the feeble glow turned everything a sickly, gloomy grey. The passages - the very walls, seemed to echo and reverberate with Kraylle’s screams: ‘And don’t come back without him!’
    There are no doors in Kraylle’s castle ; the boys spilled straight out of its cavernous mouth and onto the barren plain outside. Into the half-dark and dreadful cold and desolation of Desolation….
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    4
     
     
     
     
    They were both shivering cold and wet . The flashlight beam was playing up and down Tessie’s golden-haired body and Orson had just finished telling her that she was going grey and ugly when her ears pricked, and her head lifted, and she peered intently off into the darkness to their left. Tense seconds later, her ears twitched again and with a muted bark she scrambled to her feet, her body taut and her head tilted to one side - tuned into the night, listening for another sound.
    After watching her for a few undecided seconds, Orson got to his feet as well, albeit slower and not without a little trepidation. Lifting his eyes, he gave the dark overhead a long, careful look before returning his attention to the dog.
    ‘What is it girl? What do you see…or smell? Mmm…’ He put his hand on her neck, but felt no t rembling, no fear. She wuffed again, and pointing the flashlight, the old man slowly started walking towards where she was looking. A few metres on, he started swinging the light in wide half-circles - from left to right and back again, and almost immediately saw something flash. He stopped, and then - not believing what he had just seen, very slowly reversed the strong white beam.
    He was wet and cold and he stood still for a very long minute , watching the snowflakes reflect dimly in a small window not ten metres away.
    ‘ Bloody hells,’ he muttered, and lost it then. ‘Bloody hells!’ he screamed, and rounded on Tessie. The dog knew what was coming, and almost politely bored, backed off a few paces.
    ‘And you call yourself a dog?! ’ he screamed. ‘A bloody mongrel is what you are! Good for nothing!’ The flashlight started swinging in haphazardly wide patterns, and bits and pieces of rock and boulder were revealed in its wildly jumping beam as an apoplectic Orson did a quick-shuffle and aimed a kick at Tessie. It never landed. It never came close.
    His leg was hampered by the heavy wet coat, and instead of connecting with the dog, his hiking-boot got entangled in its torn silk