Free The Lost Castle by Michael Pryor Page A

times.
    Every half a league or so, the road brought them to a clearing, at each of which they found the remains of an old farm. At the first of these, they explored the fallen-down farmhouse and outbuildings, trying to find a clue about those who had lived there. Adalon's puzzlement grew, however, as they found little left behind. No clothes, no personal belongings, only dishes and pots and farm tools.
    Each farm did have a small reward for them. Orchards seemed to have been important, and the three friends found apples, almonds, pears and even some late peaches. They were all grateful for the addition to their diet. Even Adalon, a meat-eater, enjoyed fruit.
    Along the roadside they came across small, ruined forts. Adalon approved of the way the A'ak had sited these forts at regular distances. Good planning , he thought, and decided it was the sort of planning that was common sense to military people.
    His curiosity about the A'ak was growing.

Sixteen
    After some hours' marching, evening began to draw in. The shadows of the mountains and the trees crept across the valley. Adalon and Targesh were alert, watching both sides of the road and keeping Simangee between them.
    Adalon clicked his claws together nervously, alive to every sound. Targesh carried his axe and stumped along holding it ready.
    The road took them on a wide curve and the river disappeared behind a wall of head-high bushes. Then the growth cleared and they could see the river again.
    All three stood and stared.
    There, on an island in the middle of the river, stood the Lost Castle.
    Adalon glanced at Targesh. He was eyeing the water with distaste. 'You go,' Targesh said. 'I'll stay here.'
    Adalon knew that getting Targesh over to the Lost Castle would be a trial. Targesh mistrusted boats, never swam, and felt that those who went to sea were mad. He was of the firm view that water was for drinking and, occasionally, bathing.
    Targesh took a step back from the bank, then another. He crossed his arms and glared at the river as if it were an old enemy just waiting for its chance to drown him.
    Adalon looked up the riverbank and saw crumbled stone pilings that led across the river toward the island. Moss turned the stonework into a patchwork of grey and green. A bird landed in a nest on top of one piling. It had a small fish in its beak. 'There was a bridge here, once,' said Adalon.
    Targesh grunted. Bridges were acceptable. Barely.
    'It's a ruin. Not much use now,' Simangee said. She sank to the ground, her chin resting on her chest and her tail curled around her knees.
    Adalon looked across the river then up at the sky. The sun was getting low. With night coming on, he was mindful of the traiths and screets. He looked at the trees nearby. Perhaps they could fell a few and lay them over the remains of the bridge —
    Something in the trees caught his gaze. He walked over and his eyes widened when he saw, hanging from a branch, a small golden pipe.
    Even though the silken cord on which it hung was frayed and weatherworn, the pipe shone as brightly as the noonday sun. Adalon reached out and seized it. The cord snapped and he felt the warm tingle that meant magic.
    He hissed. Whatever happened to looking first, then acting?
    Adalon held the pipe in the palm of his hand and poked at it with a claw. It was as long as his hand and light as a feather. It had a mouthpiece and no fingerholes. It thrummed with magic.
    What was going to be the cost of this magic?
    He felt the pipe quiver. Immediately, he held it at arm's length and bared his teeth. His tail twitched uneasily.
    The pipe trembled more strongly. Adalon could feel its magic as a throbbing, deep in the bones of his hand and arm. His scales prickled as if he were in a sandstorm.
    Fear curled around Adalon's heart like a black snake. It was the fear of the unknown, the fear that leaps up at an unexpected noise in the dark. It was the fear that makes the young close their eyes and hope that it – whatever it is –