Free The Curse on the Chosen (The Song of the Tears Book 2) by Ian Irvine Page A

themselves! She tried to hold them
together but the harness was already undone. The rope burned through her
fingers and she fell heavily to the slab at the corpse’s feet.
    Phrune lunged for her. For an instant Maelys was too stunned
to move, then desperation fired her limbs and, as his oozing intestines trailed
across her chest, she hurled herself onto the floor and scrambled around the other
side of the slab. The rope had stopped moving up; Colm had noticed the weight
go off it and must be waiting for her to tie on again.
    If she could distract Phrune, she might just scramble up,
grab the rope and hang on while Colm lifted her out of reach. She’d have to be
quick, though. Unfortunately, the corpse wasn’t moving; Phrune was just waiting
beneath the rope. Her gaze flicked around the large chamber. The cursed flame
illuminated it for a few spans, beyond which the shadows became progressively deeper.
    Spying a scattering of precious amber-wood pieces on the
floor from her previous visit, Maelys scooped up half a dozen and tossed them
into the cursed flame. It flared up, illuminating the chamber for a good twenty
spans. The corpse lurched away from the flame but the moment it died down
Phrune resumed his position, guarding the rope.
    The taphloid had done him terrible damage before –
might it still hold some power over his remains? It was worth the risk. Turning
away, she took it off and concealed it in her left hand, the chain wrapped
around it for security. Maelys crept in, waving Zham’s knife in her right hand.
The corpse slowly rotated to face her. She slashed at his knees but he didn’t
move; whatever intelligence had reanimated him, he knew she couldn’t harm him
with a blade.
    Let’s see how you like the sting of my taphloid, she thought
savagely, then darted in and slammed it against Phrune’s pale calf, which was
chest-high to her.
    The corpse didn’t react save to tilt its head to stare
blindly at her. Of course – being dead, it had no aura, so the taphloid
could not harm it. Nothing could, save hacking it into immobile pieces, and she
could not risk getting that close.
    Wait! When the flame flared, Phrune had lurched out of the
way. Could he fear the fire, or was he repelled by the precious, sacred, lucky amber-wood that had saved her last
time?
    She sheathed the knife, pocketed the taphloid, and gathered
all the amber-wood she could find, tossing it into the flame, which roared
higher than Phrune’s head. The corpse moved backwards, trying to shield its
eyes with its hands. It was her only chance.
    She vaulted onto the narrow end of the coffin-shaped slab,
took two running steps and leapt high for the rope. Phrune hadn’t moved.
    Maelys wrapped a loop of rope around her wrist and drew her
legs up out of reach, hanging on grimly as she waited for Colm to feel her
weight and start pulling her up. He did so, jerkily, but to Maelys’s horror the
rope began to slip across her palms. It was coated in swamp creeper slime, and
though she squeezed until her hands began to cramp, she wasn’t strong enough to
hold on. She was slipping, faster and faster, until she slid off the end and
landed on the slab, right over the flame.
    It only stung this time, though she could feel the paralysis
from the cursed flame creeping upon her, slowly this time; perhaps it was still
partly affected by amber-wood. The corpse came her way. Maelys threw herself
off the far side, intending to bolt into the gloom, but her legs had gone numb
from the knees down and all she could manage was an awkward stumble. She hadn’t
gone far when two long arms wrapped around her and held her tight.
    ‘We have the bait,’ crowed Vivimord. ‘Now to set the trap.’
     
     

      SEVEN

 
 
    Nish moved in the darkness, bumped his burned hand
against the side of the chimney and bit down on a gasp. As the moss bandage
dried the pain was growing ever stronger, and he didn’t think he could take
much more of it. Even worse, there was no