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by Keta Diablo
"For someone to knock some sense into my thick noggin,
to show me the true path." He ran his hand down the silky
hair at the side of Owen's head. "Forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive, Andras. Mayhap the time will
come when you are forced to do the same for me."
"Duw help us now."
A series of demonic howls drifted through the castle walls,
followed by the terrifying screams of dying men.
"Werewolves," Andras said.
"I heard Dagan say they desecrated their graves near
Pembroke Castle."
"Perhaps he'll have the last laugh yet."
Owen glanced toward the door of the chamber. "What will
happen?"
"As soon as they've finished tearing Dagan's men apart,
they'll come for us. Oddly enough, they don't care who
disturbed their graves once they embark down a path of
revenge and bloodlust. Put the sword in my hand. Perhaps it
still retains a bit of its powers."
Owen took his good hand and wrapped it around the hilt of
the Prince's claymore.
"Nine shames on that miserable cur! He cast a spell on my
weapon as well."
"You're in no condition to fight werewolves even if your
sword wasn't possessed," Owen said.
"What do you propose we do, lie here and wait for the jaws
of death to tear us to pieces?"
"Can you walk, Andras?"
182
The Sin Eater's Prince
by Keta Diablo
"I'm not sure. Whatever magick he conjured arrived with a
charm that prevents healing. Where would we go, in any
event?"
"To the water."
"'Tis not vampires we must elude, but lycanthropes."
"Some believe werewolves transform into long tooths after
death. If a vampire will not cross the water, perhaps the
same can be said of the lycanthrope."
Andras reached up and touched his face. "'Tis a grand
idea. Go, Owen, and save yourself. I'll wait here and do my
best to hinder their progress, at least until you make it to the
river in front of the castle."
"Get up, Andras! I'll not leave you, so unless you want to
see them rip me limb from limb, get your mangy carcass off
this floor."
He closed his eyes and drew a tired breath. "My thigh is
cut clear through to the bone. The same could be said about
my shoulder. There are no words to describe the pain in my
hand. Hurry now, there is little time."
"Very well, you leave me no choice. So far I've done little
to tarnish my good name. I never thought to see the day I'd
resort to the Diawl's hoodoo."
A pained smile parted Andras's lips. "Not all magick is the
devil's work."
"Stop blabbering whilst I concentrate. Casting spells and
charms is reasonably novel to me."
"I'm confident you'll acquire the gist of it fairly soon."
"Andras, please."
183
The Sin Eater's Prince
by Keta Diablo
He closed his eyes again with a groan and Owen did the
same, minus the protracted moan. His lips moved, the words
tumbling forth foreign to his ears. The room spun overhead
and the domed ceiling faded away and opened to an ebony
sky complete with a hard-driven rain.
Thigh-deep water swirled around them, the sound of
waves in the distance roaring as if sent by the hand of some
mystical being Owen didn't want to know the name of. He
clutched Andras's jerkin to keep his head above the water and
struggled to remain on his feet.
Near the gate, the grisly remains of Dagan's men flashed
beneath a stream of lightning shot from the sky. Thunder
rolled overhead, but not loud enough to drown out the wild,
fearsome yowls of the werewolves as they advanced.
On a full run toward the mill pond, their yellow eyes
glowed feral, and spiked teeth gnashed at the vacant air.
Owen swallowed the fear in his throat. Not like this he
couldn't bear to see Andras ripped apart by the hounds from
Hell.
In desperation, with all hope lost, he recited the only
words that came to his benumbed mind, words his tad had
taught him long ago. "I give easement and rest now to thee,
troubled souls. Come not down the lanes or in our meadows.
And for thy peace, I pawn my own soul. Amen."
The demons came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the
water, their frantic howls rising above the wailing wind and
pelting rain.
184
The Sin Eater's Prince
by Keta Diablo
"I give easement and rest now to thee, troubled souls!" he
shouted. "Come not down the lanes or in our meadows. And
for thy peace, I pawn my own soul. Amen."
The shrill barks echoed across the turbulent water and
then faded to guttural snarls.
"I consume your earthly transgressions, weary travelers,
and render your sinless souls free. For your peace, I pledge
my own soul. Amen!" He raised his hand in the air. "Amen, go
in peace!"
As if baffled by the strange creature shouting across the
blue depths of the water separating them, the werewolves [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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