The Lord Of Lightning (Book 3) Read Online Free Page B
Author: K.J. Hargan
the night.
North they fled, to the docks, trying to keep too less used streets, and avoiding anyone with an official rank. Behind them the growing noise of the search began to ring through the town, the sound of a great pursuit in which the whole of the bored city could involve themselves.
"Zik," Arnwylf said and motioned for him to look back.
Zik looked over his shoulder, and saw a platoon of Kingsmen hot on their heels, as they reached the outskirts of Attubyamba. Here were mostly darkened warehouses and closed shops.
"Let us hope Myama is smarter than he looks," Zik said to himself, as the two ran to the west, the direction of the ocean, through empty alleys.
As they reached the docks, Zik and Arnwylf clattered with the Kingsmen gaining on them. The sound of the Kingsmen's stomping feet on the wooden docks sounded like the patter of a hard rain to Arnwylf. There will be quite a storm if they catch us, Arnwylf thought to himself.
"Cast off! Cast off!" Zik called to Myama who stood at the gunwale of the Kyrial, Zik's ship.
The Kyrial, fully repaired, had its three red sails unfurled, and they were filled with wind, straining to take to the open ocean.
Arnwylf could hear the creaking of the tensed ropes as they were untied from their moorings. The massive ship began to pull away from the dock, as Myama and the other sailors shouted urgently for the two to get aboard.
"Go! Go!" Zik said to Arnwylf, pushing him forward.
Zik turned with his sword drawn to face the Kingsmen, who pulled up ready and happy to fight the disrespectful sailor. The King's Guard spread out and drew their swords.
Arnwylf leapt and barely made the gunwale of the ship, clutching the edge of the ship with his fingertips. Myama and the sailors of the Kyrial roughly pulled Arnwylf over the gunwale and flopped him down onto the main deck.
Back on the dock, Zik stood before the King's Guard with sword drawn. The Kingsmen slowly advanced, as Zik slowly retreated.
"Call your ship back!" The lead Kingsman demanded of Zik.
"When Kyrial sails," Zik said with a wild smile, "she must sail."
"Then you go to prison," the Kingsman told Zik.
"I don't think so," Zik smiled. "Because I can swim, and I'll wager you can't." With that, Zik sheathed his sword and leapt off the docks.
The Kingsmen dumbly stood on the edge of the dock as Zik seemed frozen in the air with the graceful arc of his dive. Then he hit the water with hardly a splash. He surfaced and swam for his ship. A rope was thrown to their captain, and Zik was smartly hauled aboard, laughing like a mad man.
"Farewell!" Zik called to the King's Guard. "Tell the Kings their party was delightful!"
The Kingsmen were immobile, mouths hanging open, filled with dread at facing the fateful task of reporting their failure. The lead Kingsman stepped to the edge of the dock as though he was about to leap in the water. His fearful hesitation sent an uproarious laugh among the crew of the Kyrial.
"Ladies," Zik commanded, turning to his crew, "full sails, we head north to bring the white boy home!"
The crew happily cheered, and eagerly set to work.
Both moons rose in the night sky, filling the sea with sparkling facets of moonlight. The Kyrial cut the waves of the placid ocean like a sharpened knife.
Arnwylf leaned on the gunwale and stared into the mysterious depths as if he was trying to fathom his future course. The lines of waves intersect and then go on their way, Arnwylf thought, much like the lives of humans.
Zik leisurely joined the Arnwylf. "Feeling sick?" He asked.
"Not a bit," Arnwylf answered with a confident smile.
"I'll turn you into a sailor yet," Zik said with a small smile. Zik turned to stare at the mesmerizing flashing of moonlight on the ocean. The sea seemed to glow a deep aqua, and the Kyrial appeared to be gliding over a plane of illuminated green glass.
The two leaned on the wooden rail without speaking. The night was mild and the sea air filled with the salty perfume of a
North they fled, to the docks, trying to keep too less used streets, and avoiding anyone with an official rank. Behind them the growing noise of the search began to ring through the town, the sound of a great pursuit in which the whole of the bored city could involve themselves.
"Zik," Arnwylf said and motioned for him to look back.
Zik looked over his shoulder, and saw a platoon of Kingsmen hot on their heels, as they reached the outskirts of Attubyamba. Here were mostly darkened warehouses and closed shops.
"Let us hope Myama is smarter than he looks," Zik said to himself, as the two ran to the west, the direction of the ocean, through empty alleys.
As they reached the docks, Zik and Arnwylf clattered with the Kingsmen gaining on them. The sound of the Kingsmen's stomping feet on the wooden docks sounded like the patter of a hard rain to Arnwylf. There will be quite a storm if they catch us, Arnwylf thought to himself.
"Cast off! Cast off!" Zik called to Myama who stood at the gunwale of the Kyrial, Zik's ship.
The Kyrial, fully repaired, had its three red sails unfurled, and they were filled with wind, straining to take to the open ocean.
Arnwylf could hear the creaking of the tensed ropes as they were untied from their moorings. The massive ship began to pull away from the dock, as Myama and the other sailors shouted urgently for the two to get aboard.
"Go! Go!" Zik said to Arnwylf, pushing him forward.
Zik turned with his sword drawn to face the Kingsmen, who pulled up ready and happy to fight the disrespectful sailor. The King's Guard spread out and drew their swords.
Arnwylf leapt and barely made the gunwale of the ship, clutching the edge of the ship with his fingertips. Myama and the sailors of the Kyrial roughly pulled Arnwylf over the gunwale and flopped him down onto the main deck.
Back on the dock, Zik stood before the King's Guard with sword drawn. The Kingsmen slowly advanced, as Zik slowly retreated.
"Call your ship back!" The lead Kingsman demanded of Zik.
"When Kyrial sails," Zik said with a wild smile, "she must sail."
"Then you go to prison," the Kingsman told Zik.
"I don't think so," Zik smiled. "Because I can swim, and I'll wager you can't." With that, Zik sheathed his sword and leapt off the docks.
The Kingsmen dumbly stood on the edge of the dock as Zik seemed frozen in the air with the graceful arc of his dive. Then he hit the water with hardly a splash. He surfaced and swam for his ship. A rope was thrown to their captain, and Zik was smartly hauled aboard, laughing like a mad man.
"Farewell!" Zik called to the King's Guard. "Tell the Kings their party was delightful!"
The Kingsmen were immobile, mouths hanging open, filled with dread at facing the fateful task of reporting their failure. The lead Kingsman stepped to the edge of the dock as though he was about to leap in the water. His fearful hesitation sent an uproarious laugh among the crew of the Kyrial.
"Ladies," Zik commanded, turning to his crew, "full sails, we head north to bring the white boy home!"
The crew happily cheered, and eagerly set to work.
Both moons rose in the night sky, filling the sea with sparkling facets of moonlight. The Kyrial cut the waves of the placid ocean like a sharpened knife.
Arnwylf leaned on the gunwale and stared into the mysterious depths as if he was trying to fathom his future course. The lines of waves intersect and then go on their way, Arnwylf thought, much like the lives of humans.
Zik leisurely joined the Arnwylf. "Feeling sick?" He asked.
"Not a bit," Arnwylf answered with a confident smile.
"I'll turn you into a sailor yet," Zik said with a small smile. Zik turned to stare at the mesmerizing flashing of moonlight on the ocean. The sea seemed to glow a deep aqua, and the Kyrial appeared to be gliding over a plane of illuminated green glass.
The two leaned on the wooden rail without speaking. The night was mild and the sea air filled with the salty perfume of a
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