The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) Read Online Free Page B

spun Krin in his tracks. His master rushed toward the gate from a distance. Fear seized the stone heart of the Ulrog. He spun back to those manning the ram.
    “Put your backs into it, dogs! Lord Vespewl grows tired of your delays!” screeched Krin, panic rising in his voice. “He returns!”
    Two hundred oily black orbs locked on the distant figure of the raging Malveel then back to their objective. All knew the penalty of failure. With a roar of their own, the unit lurched forward and slammed the massive, steel capped trunk into the weakening, water-logged timbers of the Keltaran gate.
    BOOM! CRACK! SHSSSSSSSSSSH!
    Krin’s eyes remained fixed on the advancing form of the Malveel. Vespewl raged and roared at the High Priest from a distance, but Krin was unable to discern his master’s words over the noise of the water jetting from a gaping split in the gate.
    SHSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!
    The priest spun back to his pack and his eyes widened at the watery puzzle before him. The pack hesitated.
    “Ignore the tricks of the giants, you fools,” shouted the priest. “Destroy the gates and spare yourselves from his wrath!”
    The Hackles rushed forward with all their strength.
    BOOM! SHSSSSSSSSSSSH!
    The ram punched a hole cleanly through the middle of the weakened barrier. Water spewed from about the trunk. Timbers splintered. The ram remained lodged in the gate. The Hackles fought to remove it as they shouted in triumph.
    SKREEEEEEEEEEE!
    Iron nails ripped free from ancient wood they had secured for centuries. The Hackles heaved on the great pine.
    TWANG!
    The remaining iron bands binding the gate popped free.  Relief flooded the stony face of Krin. He turned with a nervous grin to face his master. Vespewl halted ten yards from Krin, his scaly chest heaving. The Malveel’s expression showed as an odd mixture of dismay and fear.
    SHSSSSSSSSSH! POP! SKREEEEEEEE!
    “My lord! The mighty gates of the mountain city fall!” proudly shouted Krin above the tumult.
    The High Priest could not hear the snarled reply of his Malveel master, but read it clearly on the beast’s lips.
    “Fool.”
    BOOM!
    Shattered timbers, metal bindings, the iron tipped ram and debris from the mountain city shot from the gate’s opening as the overwhelming pressure of the pent up water defeated the weakened gate. Vespewl’s eyes widened as a three yard, half-ton timber instantly removed Krin from his sight. A moment later, turbulence snared the Malveel. He scratched and clawed for a hold on the grassy slopes of Hrafnu’s valley.  The fifty-foot wave of water and debris hampered his efforts. It beat him beneath monumental weight and carried him away from the prize he intended for Amird.
     
    Olith held the torch out before him, advancing quickly through the crowd as he scanned the walls of the tunnel. Many greeted the familiar yet gaunt face of the general and he grudgingly returned the acknowledgement. He could not afford to lose his concentration. Their lives depended on him.
    The torchlight shined upon the wet, rough-hewn walls of the tunnel, dancing and jumping across its many juts and crevices. Olith frowned. The water seeping from the fissures in the tunnel gathered strength. In many places, weak fountains twirled above the rising water or squirted from the tunnel walls. The gurgling and hissing of the fountains mixed with the grunts and prayers of the struggling Keltaran.  Olith cursed the Ulrog. If they did not finish their task soon, or if he did not find what he sought, the people would all drown in these tunnels.
    The general splashed forward followed closely by three of Shor’s brother monks. They had been briefed on what to look for and used their own torches to scan the walls. One of the monks called to Olith.
    “It is here.”
    The general spun and the mass of Keltaran filing through the knee-deep water of the tunnel parted to let him through. The crowd silenced. The bubbling water echoed through the tunnel. The grim faced monk stabbed