Free The Fabled Beast of Elddon by David Barber

her part, stood frozen, eyes wide and staring. “Oh no!” she cried. “I am so
sorry. What have I done?”

 
 
    Ander
heard the voices as a distant echo, as if hearing them through layers of
cotton. His mind was consumed by the pain in his chest and back. His groping
fingers reached up to touch the chain mail where it had been melted, the metal
still hot to the touch.
    “Onar
and Iden,” he croaked. He could smell something burning, something rank and
overcooked, and realized it was his own flesh. He groaned and tried to raise
himself but the pain was too great. He let his head thump against the stone and
hoped that he would lose consciousness soon.
    A
moment later Loth was kneeling beside him. The elluen laid a hand on the
Northman’s scorched chest, whispering words in a language Ander could not
comprehend. He felt a coolness spreading through his limbs, like ice water in
his veins, and the pain began to ease. He let out a grateful sigh.
    Tristan
and Loth took hold of him by the arms, helping him to a sitting position. Ander
lowered his head, examining the wound and probing it with his fingers. A
portion of his hauberk and tunic had been burned away and the skin beneath was pink
and tender to the touch, but the burning sensation was receding. He took a deep
breath and let it out slowly. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he appeared
to be whole.
    “What
in seven worlds is that thing?” He nodded at the staff.
    “I’m
so sorry,” Ryia said. “I took it from one of the guards who... when I saw you,
I thought... I, well, it just sort of--”
    “Oh,
Ryia,” Tristan said, releasing Ander’s arm. “I thought I would never see you again.
I thought--” Tristan abandoned Ander entirely, rising to meet the woman he loved.
    “Tristan!”
Ryia flung her arms around the youth’s neck and crushed him to her. He plunged
his fingers into her dark hair, gripping her tightly. The girl’s hands found
his face and their mouths met. There were tears in their eyes and they clung to
each other as if they were drowning.
    “Don’t
mind us,” Ander said, offering Loth a wry smile. The elluen took hold of
Ander’s hand and pulled him to his feet.
    “Thanks
for that,” Ander said, touching his shoulder. He rotated his arm, testing its
flexibility, then he collected his fallen sword and adjusted the straps on his
shield. “That’s a good trick to know.”
    “I’m
no great healer,” Loth said, “but I know a few useful spells.” He glanced
around. “We shouldn’t linger. Someone is bound to have heard the noise--“
    “Wait,”
Ryia said, disentangling herself from Tristan. “There are people here, peasants,
villagers, those believed to have been taken by the beast.”
    “They’re
alive?” Tristan said. “All of them?”
    “I
don’t know about all, but some at least. The kerram are forcing them to work. There
is a mining operation in a cavern below the city.”
    “Glow
rock,” Loth said, scowling and shaking his head. “They’re probably looking for
glow rock. It’s what fuels that staff. The kerram are obsessed with it. They
use it to power their strange devices, but it is a foul substance, deadly if
ingested, and lethal if one is exposed to it for a long period of time. In its
raw state, it is flammable and highly unstable.”
    “Sir
Egan is here as well,” Ryia said. “He is working with the kerram!”
    “What?”
Ander growled. “Onar’s beard, that traitorous wretch. No wonder he didn’t want
us coming near this place.”
    “So,”
Loth said, “the kerram are working with Elddon’s goodly knight, and Baron
Leofrick is none the wiser. He trusts the man over much. I’m beginning to
perceive the baron as something of a blunt arrow. The kerram are here for the
glow rock, that much is certain, but Sir Egan must be getting something out of
it.”
    “What
about the beast?” Tristan asked, glancing over his shoulder. “We’ve seen no
sign of it.”
    “I
don’t know,” Loth said. “I