Seaward Read Online Free Page A

firm! Stand!”
    A rebellious fury flooded Westerly’s mind: why should he stand and wait to be destroyed? What was the matter with them all, blindly obeying the whim of someone they couldn’t even see?
    He ran. He heard the furious voice raised: “Come back that man!” Stumbling through the grass and scrub he looked over his shoulder and saw the great blue tower reach his own motionless gold group of soldiers —and saw that suddenly the soldiers were no longer there.
    But the rolling, lumbering tower did not pause. Veering round, seeing through huge hidden eyes of its own, it made straight for Westerly; and as if this were a signal, botharmies as one turned and charged in its wake. From all sides they came rushing at Westerly: blue-clad horsemen yelling and whooping, golden infantrymen grimly waving their swords. He stared in horror for an instant, all his fear of pursuit re-awakened and roaring in his ears; then flung himself forward, running for his life. He tossed away his sword; tore the shield loose from his arm and threw that too. It bounced clanging on the hard ground, and within a terrifyingly short moment clanged again to tell him a galloping pursuing horse had kicked it aside. Gasping for breath, Westerly ran and ran, despair fogging his mind as the tumult of shouts and yells grew louder, nearer, nearer—
    Then suddenly behind him there was total silence. He could hear only his own long rasping breaths, and the thudding of his blood in his ears. He glanced back, and astonishment caught his stride and sent him sprawling on the grass. No one was there. Over all the plain no trace remained of that crowded mingling of blue and gold; every horse, every man was gone. Westerly crouched on hands and knees, panting, staring at the empty grass, hearing only the small whine of the wind.
    Confused words and images darted through his head. “They are coming, Westerly,” she had said. “They will see you.” And it was true; he knew himself pursued. “We will give you a chance for safety by putting you in our game.” But she had not given him safety, she had given him a stillmore desperate pursuit; each time he ran from one danger, he ran into one that was worse. . . .
    Then he understood. “In our game.” His running had saved him after all; it had carried him out of her perilous game, over the edge of the chessboard, back into the world. And he was wearing his own clothes now, and the weight of his pack was on his shoulders again.
    Stumbling to his feet, he saw a small hawk hanging high in the blue sky.
    Ahead, on the far side of the plateau, a dark line of trees marked the beginning of wooded, rising land. The horizon was gold-rimmed where the sun was going down; the light was reddening in the sky. Westerly shivered, as the breeze chilled the sweat on his face. He began to walk, swinging once more into the familiar long-distance lope; travelling.

CHAPTER 4
    T he light was almost gone when he reached the edge of the trees. Westerly hesitated. He looked back across the plain; lightning flickered silently over the hills from which he had come, and he could just make out a long mounded line of dark cloud. Turning to the scattered pines edging the forest ahead, he saw a faint glow of light somewhere within the trees. Cautiously he moved towards it, and saw that the light beamed out from the window of a small log house. He hung back in the shadows, watching.
    The door of the house opened and a tall figure came out, bending his head to duck under the lintel. He stood there for a moment, a dark silhouette in the bright doorway. Then he moved, so that the light pouring out past him from the house glinted golden over his body, and Westerly saw that it was the chess-player from the hill.
    The tall man said softly, to the trees, “Come in, Westerly. You must travel no more tonight.”
    Westerly stood silent for a long time, caught between wonder and doubt,