Free The Heretic (Beyond the Wall Book 1) by Lucas Bale Page B

deafening now, so intense as to almost overwhelm him. The raw power of the river —its potential to sweep him away, drag him under and tear away his breath—dizzied him.
    He stepped into the edge of the water, feeling the cold surge over his boots, soak into his woollen socks, chill his skin. He shuddered. Picking his way downriver, measuring every step, he moved slowly, cautiously. The fear inside him fused with the cold, and wracked him with violent shivers. His hands ached now, wet and frozen stiff. His fingers could hardly hold onto anything. All around him, the river was bathed in an eerie half-light—the snow clung to branches above, but almost everything else was dark and in shadow. The only brightness came from the white of his skin and the snow. Realising this, he reached down and smeared mud over the exposed skin on his hands and face, closing his eyes as he did so. His hands trembled and, just for a moment, he laid them against his cheeks to try to find some warmth.
    Then he caught the sound of the dog.
    He’d been wrong. Even above the roar of the river he could hear the barking seeping through the mist upriver. The dog had followed him to the place where he had stumbled and slid; Jordi that his scent would have faded in the mud and water, and that the dog would be confused. But Vaarden would not. He would know what Jordi had done. But he would not know whether Jordi had gone upriver or downriver.
    Jordi continued to move. He left no tracks now, as his feet were beneath the water, but Vaarden would search both ways, and Jordi’s progress was slow in the river. Vaarden’s would be quicker up on the bank.
    The crossing point was close. Jordi quickened his steps, slipping each time and clutching at roots as if his life depended on them. The barking continued, but he couldn’t tell which way Vaarden had chosen first.
    One of his feet gave way on the slick moss and slid deep into the river. The root in his hand came away from the bank, and he skidded downwards. The razor edge of the nearest rock gashed his leg, tearing the muscle deeply. He let out an involuntary cry, groped for something to slow his glissade into the surging flow of the river. He jammed his foot against a rock and slumped, the pain in his thigh washing over him in waves of dizziness and nausea.
    Looking down, he saw the wound through the tear in his trousers. Blood dripped into the water and was washed away. His hands shook, and he was too afraid to touch his leg. He stared at it, eyes wide.
    He tried to stand, but couldn’t. He lacked the strength. He reached for something to haul himself out of the water and into some sort of cover, but found nothing. The exposed roots jutting from the bank were out of reach.
    Above, the hawk cried again.
    It was over.
    I’m going to die here.
    Suddenly, the terrified faces of his dead neighbours and friends came to him like a dream. Strewn about like discarded rubbish. Their sunken eyes open and staring. Ashen skin pulled across bone. Crows tearing at their frozen flesh.
    Slaughtered.
    No! You are NOT going to die! something inside his head screamed. Get up, now! Stop crying like a little girl.
    You owe them. You survived . Don’t dishonour them by giving in.
    He refused to let the murderers win.
    Jordi glanced around, searching for the crossing he remembered. He caught sight of the arc in the river and knew he wasn’t far. If he could get himself up and moving, he could reach it. Maybe hide once he got to the other side.
    If he got to the other side.
    The hope galvanised him. He pushed hard with his good leg, ignoring the pain it caused in the other. He scraped his backside along the rock, pushing until he could reach the roots, and pulled himself up. Waves of pain made him want to vomit, but he hauled in a deep breath and began to move again.
    He moved slowly at first, and then found a rhythm, half-walking, half-hopping along the bank, clutching at roots. All the while, he shivered hard.
    The dog’s