A hand reached up out of the sea, grasping for a hold on the slick surface. Finding purchase between two of the cobbles it tensed, and up out of the water slid O'Bellah, rising from the depths like one of the behemoths that inhabited the dark deep. He dragged his battered body out of the water, smearing the blood onto himself as seawater poured off of him and onto the congealed mess beneath. He knew that his own would mix with the blood on the steps, and even in this predicament that gave him cause for excitement. Lying there, he did not risk looking up to see who might be watching. The pain of the arrows biting into his huge frame had now subsided to a dull ache, but still the arrows were there, in his arm, his side and his legs. He felt weak, light headed from loss of blood, but he was alive. In his opinion he had won, because the cursed Duke had not finished him off, and that meant he could wreak revenge. His only cause for alarm was that he had lost his focus stone, the prized possession that was his only means of survival.
After resting, he looked up as he tried to gauge the easiest way out of this mess. The sky to the East gradually got paler and paler as he tried to crawl up the flight of steps to the road. As morning threatened to break the only cover he had. It was darker at the top of the steps, and it took a moment for him to realise why. He managed to raise his head enough to see what passed for huge stone feet, and then dropped to the ground in exhaustion.
“Thank the Gods.”
“Oh I think that the Gods will have little to say to you when you meet.” Said a voice, and something kicked O'Bellah over onto his back. He was presented with a view of all that was bad for him at this time. Ralnor, and the wizard known as Sparan stood there grinning. The Golem blocked out the sky, but in front of him stood a much smaller figure. “You have failed me for the last time, O'Bellah.”
He reached his hand up, a last desperate move. “I can find her,” he croaked, “I have seen her, I can find her again. Please Garias, help me, master.” His hand slumped down as his last energy left him. “Give me a stone.”
“No, a stone would be an easy way out. You will be serving penance for this, to remind you whom you serve. You shall live, but you will heal naturally. By the time you are well once again, you will have learnt what it truly means to serve. Pick him up.”
“What about the Duke?” O'Bellah's eyes blurred with the pain as he was forced to his feet.
“This Duchy is as good as dead. We go now to the central plains, where we will annihilate every man, woman and child until your quarry comes seeking us out. We will have both the girl, and the Tome of Law.”
With a mental nod, the Golem surrounded them all. As he was taken to another place to begin his convalescence, O'Bellah swore that Duke Hester would one day bleed for his victory. He would bleed slowly, and O'Bellah would be there to watch.
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Best regards,
Matthew W. Harrill and the Creativia Team
About the Author
Matthew W. Harrill lives in the idyllic South-West of England, nestled snugly in a village in the foothills of the Cotswolds. Born in 1976, he attended school in Bristol and received a degree in Geology from Southampton University. By day he plies his trade implementing share plans. By night he spends his time with his wife and four children.
http://www.matthewharrill.com/
Books by the Author
The Tome of Law
The Focus Stone, Book 1
The Path of Dreams, Book 2
The Arc Chronicles
Hellbounce, Book 1
Hellborne, Book 2
Hellbeast, Book 3
The Eyes Have No Soul
The Path of Dreams (The Tome of Law Book 2) Page 66