Free The Lord of Lies: Strange Threads: Book 2 by Sam Bowring Page A

billowing through the city ruins.
    ‘After him!’ cameMergan’s cry.
    Salarkis knew that Mergan would not suffer his cover for long. It was simple magic, therefore easily countered, and already he felt a wind stirring up. He sent expanding shockwaves of air ahead of him, knocking Unwoven from their feet, doing them little actual damage, but buying the time to pass. As he leapt over a toppled figure, he felt fingers brush his foot. He thought for a sickening moment he was about to be pulled downwards, but landed on the other side, emerging from the dust at full pelt with fewer Unwoven ahead than behind.
    A loose brick came spinning at him from the side and cracked his elbow. He gave a cry as it jarred his funny bone – it could have been worse, of course, but the sensation still set his teeth on edge.
    Was that
really
necessary?
he thought as he ran.
    He sensed a foreign influence worming its way up his calves into his knees, and desperately knew he could not exorcise it. Mergan had a Warden’s power, and Salarkis had only distance on his side – any moment now his kneecaps could crunch to pieces inside him and bring his flight to an agonising halt. Rather than fight Mergan directly, he tried to make himself difficult to grip, vibrating his threads so fast that his vision blurred and his teeth chattered together painfully in his mouth. Just when he thought they were about to shatter, he broke from Mergan’s ethereal grasp.
    A quick glance behind showed Unwoven appearing from the dispersing dust, the jets of dirt now petering out. The sight gave him strength, fuelling his feet. Ahead, other Unwoven were emerging from buildings or wandering in from the slopes to see what was happening. Mergan might have swept away some of the dust, but there was plenty more around, and Salarkis did not hesitate to use it. He opened more fissures, trying to place them under enemies who stood in his way. To his side, an old house exploded as a great jet issued up underneath it, hurling stones into the air. He grabbed hold of a few of them and sent them spinning around himself as a kind of whizzing shield.
    If onlyhe could make it to the Spire. He did not know why the Unwoven shunned it but, whatever the reason, hopefully it was enough to stop them following him inside.
    He pulled a couple of free-standing walls inwards as he passed between them, and heard grunts in response as they toppled behind him. Clearing the ruins he began to head up the Spire’s slope with aching muscles. An Unwoven ran out of a hut and leapt at him, only to be cracked on the skull by one of the stones flying about him.
    Ahead the Spire loomed, but another glance behind shook his confidence of reaching it. From out of the dust Mergan rode, astride a galloping white horse. Salarkis reached to try to break the beast’s legs, but Mergan easily unspun his influence. The old man was closer than before and, as their eyes met, his anger turned to shocked recognition.
    ‘Salarkis?’ he mouthed.
    So, hehad not initially realised who the ‘interloper’ was – unsurprising, since Salarkis was restored to human form. Salarkis wondered briefly if Mergan would be kindlier now that he recognised who he chased, but he dared not take the chance. Instead he used Mergan’s distraction by reaching towards the ground in front of his horse, and sending up another blast of dust. It hit the creature full in the face, set it rearing and snorting, and Mergan had to hold on grimly.
    With Unwoven closing in from either side, Salarkis pounded towards the Spire entrance. The darkness within seemed like sanctuary, yet was that truly what it represented? Just as he was about to cross the threshold, a grey hand snapped closed around his wrist, spinning him around so he smacked against the inside of the doorway. Slightly stunned, he looked up into blue eyes.
    ‘Our game ends,’ Blue-eye said with a nasty smile.
    ‘Let go,’ gasped Salarkis. ‘It’s … my turn now.’
    ‘Your silly