Storm Thief Read Online Free Page A

moment travelling faster than thought, the next as slow as if their limbs were made of lead.
    Rail swallowed against the dryness in his mouth, and wished he had never taken this job.
    â€œMoa. . .” he said quietly, but she didn’t reply. She had gone dizzy and lightheaded, and had hung her head between her knees.
    The three creatures split up, as Rail had guessed they would. Two of them flitted away, and the other, still caught in the slow-motion downswing of its time-cycle, crept into the mouth of the tunnel where Moa and Rail hid.
    Sweat broke out on Rail’s brow. If they ran now, it would hear them. And with Moa as she was, they wouldn’t get far.
    Leave her behind, just leave her behind , whispered a voice in his head, the voice that had helped him survive through a hard and dangerous childhood into an even harder adolescence. Run!
    But he couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t. In the time they had known each other, she had become the most precious thing that he had, and he would never give that up. He needed her as much as she needed him.
    The Mozga was accelerating now, speeding up into normal time, walking steadily down the corridor. Hobnailed boots clanked on metal.
    Rail checked on Moa. Her breathing had become less laboured now. Another few moments would do it; but it was a few moments they didn’t have. He searched for a weapon, more to distract himself from the voice in his head than because he really thought he had a chance of using it.
    His eye fell on a thin steel pole, about the length of his arm, sticking out from the rubble in front of him. He glanced up the tunnel. The Mozga was still some way away, treading carefully, listening. One of the tracklights overhead fizzed and went out, dimming the tunnel. Another one was flickering, making the shadows twitch fitfully. The soft suck and hiss of the respirator pack on Rail’s back seemed far too loud.
    He closed his hand around the end of the pole. He began to slide it out, and it came without resistance and made only the softest of scrapes.
    It slipped free. A few stones from the heap of debris shifted and rattled to the floor. And the Mozga appeared, right in front of Rail’s face.
    He yelled and staggered backwards, the pole in his hand. Shock froze him for a moment. The creature was inches from him, its jaws agape and its teeth wet and shining, a dagger raised to plunge into his neck. It had stopped still. Caught in time like a waxwork.
    Rail swung the pole as hard as he could into the side of its head. It was like hitting rock. The creature didn’t flinch. The weapon jolted out of his hand and sent a jab of pain up his arm to his shoulder. He took a step back, uncertain of what to do next. Then he pulled the startled Moa roughly to her feet and fled.
    They had got a few steps down the tunnel when there was a dull thud behind them, and the Mozga went flying sideways, crashed into the wall and slumped to the ground. Time had caught up with it.
    They didn’t dare to wait and see if it was out of action permanently. The tunnel bent left and they followed it. Moa stumbled more than once, but Rail was there to bear her up. And finally, after what seemed like for ever, they found their way out.
    The steps, thankfully, were where they were supposed to be. Moa had almost collapsed again by the time she reached them, but Rail would not think of stopping now, not with the cries of pursuit growing once more. He lifted her on to his back and she clung to him. She was light as a ghost, but he wasn’t strong. Only the fear of what came after them propelled him up the spiral staircase. His legs ached with the effort, but he made it to the rusted door at the top. There he put Moa down, and he pounded out the rhythm he had been taught. Three hits, pause, one hit, pause, four, pause, three.
    Nothing. Nobody answered.
    He tried the pattern again. He was sure he had it right.
    Still there was no sign that anyone had heard him.