Free The Winterstone Plague (The Carrion Cycle) by David Scroggins Page B

he was not tired.
    Valthian was surrounded by darkness. There was nothing to grasp; he could see nothing regardless of the direction in which he looked. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear a faint buzzing that reminded him of the sound a honeybee makes as it travels from flower to flower, only the sound that he heard was more like a thousand of those bees flying in unison. He tried to walk, but his legs felt as though they were submerged completely in a great tub of molasses. His muscles would not respond, so he remained still, listening to the distant buzz drawing ever closer, until finally the noise reverberated through his skull, threatening to drive him mad.
    "Please go away," he thought, for he could not speak. "Leave me alone!"
    Just when Valthian thought the droning buzz might just drive him mad, it stopped. The silence was almost worse, for at least it had been something. He tried to recall the buzzing, but he could not force his mind to cooperate. It was as if a great fog had invaded his mind, devouring each of his memories.
    "It shouldn't be long now."
    The voice was familiar, yet he wasn’t sure that he knew the speaker. She spoke in a melodious tone, each syllable almost musical.
    "I am very close to finding you."
    The speaker stepped out of the darkness and stood tall before him. She had a slim figure; her movements were lithe, not unlike the dances performed by the young maidens of Solstice during special celebrations and the yearly harvest day festival. The comparison made Valthian realize that the fog had lifted; he was himself again.
    "Who are you?" He asked.
    "No need to speak," she whispered. "I am so close to the one who will rise."
    "Rise from what?" He asked, ignoring her suggestion that he not speak.
    "He who shall rise from the ashes," she replied.
    Her robes shimmered, but Valthian could find no source of light. The hood covering her face was deep and as dark as the world around them. He wasn't even sure that she had a face.
    She reached out and touched his shoulder with a bony finger. He gasped; her touch was as cold as winter snow. Before he could speak, she backed away, each step some small part of an intricate dance. The fog returned and he fought in vain to regain consciousness.
    The world surrounding him—the eternal darkness from which there had been no escape—faded, leaving Valthian floating in the void once again. He was one with the nothingness until he himself was a part of it, save for a series of memories floating in a deep, never-ending chasm...
    Valthian awoke to find Elyna standing over him with a platter of fragrant bread and sliced apples. He stretched his arms and legs, and attempted to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Tomas must have decided to get up without disturbing him, for the young man was nowhere to be found in the tiny room.
    “I feel horrible. I don’t think I slept for more than an hour, and I was having the worst nightmare.”
    “You were snoring all night, silly. You even managed to sleep through most of the morning,” Elyna said, smiling. “We could hear you all the way up there. It’s almost time for lunch. Father asked me not to bother you; the snoring was rather loud, and he said that you seemed to be resting well enough.”
    “What?” Valthian asked. “It’s that late? I have to get home immediately!”
    “You are going nowhere until you have eaten!”
    Valthian stood and wiped the front of his shirt with a grimy hand. “I do not have time for breakfast—err—lunch. I have to see my father as soon as possible. It is very important that I leave now.”
    Elyna stomped her foot and shoved the platter into Valthian’s chest. “You will eat what is on this plate, or I will have you tied down so I can feed you myself!”
    He grimaced, but grabbed the food from her hands. “Fair enough. It does smell delicious, and I am starving!”
    Valthian popped an apple slice into his mouth and reached for a hunk of bread. In all probability, riding horseback