Read Online Children of the Wastes (The Aionach Saga Book 2) by J.C. Staudt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J.C. Staudt
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north, unconcerned with the noise of her chains, taking hold of them
only when they got in her way. Where the path smoothed into an impassable
cliff, she ascended until she came to another vantage point alongside
Sniverlik’s horde, looking down on the battle from the heights. She’d had long
enough now to consider her plan, and she was realizing how absurd and
implausible it was. Did she think she was some kind of guerilla warrior? Had
she thought from up on that boulder that she’d had any chance of getting close
to Sniverlik?
She sank down and watched the battle unfold as the light-star
beat down on her back. After only a short while the shade began to look
enticing. Her tail was heating up and her goggles had begun to fog. The lash
wound on her back was still stinging above her older wounds. On top of all
that, the will to overcome her fear had waned. She would die if she tried to
get involved in this fight, she knew, even if she’d been wearing no chains at
all. No, I’m no warrior, and I won’t survive a minute down there .
So she remained in her hiding place, concealed from calaihn and ikzhehn alike. She’d been awake for more than a day now, and no
amount of excitement seemed enough to stop her tired eyes from closing. Despite
the role she had fantasized about playing—delivering the blow that ended
Sniverlik’s life—her part in this war amounted to nothing more than a drop in
the bucket, if she was honest with herself.
She curled up in the shade and tried not to fall asleep.
Yet even as the gruesome songs of the dying rang in her ears, war soon began to
sound like a lullaby.
When she woke, it took her a moment to remember where
she was. The light-star had crossed far into the afternoon sky and her shaded
hideaway was fast becoming a daylit well in the rock. She stood and remembered
her chains. Despair flooded over her, as did surprise at having slept so
soundly through everything. Her body ached, and the heat made her feel
light-headed and feverish. She slid her tongue around inside her mouth, but
there was no moisture to be found. The nearest water would be in the
below-world. She could scent a passage into the caverns, and it wasn’t far.
The ridge was littered with bodies. Insects buzzed and
carrion birds circled high above. The battle was ended, but she could still
hear the voices of calaihn and ikzhehn dying on the crags. It was
impossible to tell which side had won. In times of war, it was hard to believe
anyone ever truly won anything. Had the calaihn stormed up the ridge and
entered the caverns, or had Sniverlik’s Marauders swarmed over them and chased
them south? Lizneth didn’t much care anymore. All she wanted was to see her
family. To hold little Raial again; to be wrapped up in one of Papa’s hugs; to
warn them that there was a war going on, and that they were its spoils.
Lizneth made her way over the rocks to the spot where
Sniverlik had been standing during the battle. Could she have made it all the
way here without being detected? The dying called out to her in a jumble of
Ikzhethii and the Aion-speech and other languages she didn’t understand, some
begging for a drink, others for death. She hurried past, her heart breaking
with every step. The heat would kill her if she stayed above. And what could
she give to the wounded but the mercy of a quick end?
There were calai corpses strewn about the mouth of the
tunnel. The calaihn began to fare better as the battle went on , she
theorized, though even after she had scented and listened down the tunnel, the
battle’s result remained unclear. Every whiff of haick was tainted with
the stench of blood and death and calai sweat. Bloody trails led off down
the ridge and into the abandoned calai camp, but there were just as many
tracks leading into the dampness of the tunnel.
I’ve put off seeing my family for too long already ,
Lizneth told herself. She took a side passage into the below-world and headed
toward Tanley, stopping to
only when they got in her way. Where the path smoothed into an impassable
cliff, she ascended until she came to another vantage point alongside
Sniverlik’s horde, looking down on the battle from the heights. She’d had long
enough now to consider her plan, and she was realizing how absurd and
implausible it was. Did she think she was some kind of guerilla warrior? Had
she thought from up on that boulder that she’d had any chance of getting close
to Sniverlik?
She sank down and watched the battle unfold as the light-star
beat down on her back. After only a short while the shade began to look
enticing. Her tail was heating up and her goggles had begun to fog. The lash
wound on her back was still stinging above her older wounds. On top of all
that, the will to overcome her fear had waned. She would die if she tried to
get involved in this fight, she knew, even if she’d been wearing no chains at
all. No, I’m no warrior, and I won’t survive a minute down there .
So she remained in her hiding place, concealed from calaihn and ikzhehn alike. She’d been awake for more than a day now, and no
amount of excitement seemed enough to stop her tired eyes from closing. Despite
the role she had fantasized about playing—delivering the blow that ended
Sniverlik’s life—her part in this war amounted to nothing more than a drop in
the bucket, if she was honest with herself.
She curled up in the shade and tried not to fall asleep.
Yet even as the gruesome songs of the dying rang in her ears, war soon began to
sound like a lullaby.
When she woke, it took her a moment to remember where
she was. The light-star had crossed far into the afternoon sky and her shaded
hideaway was fast becoming a daylit well in the rock. She stood and remembered
her chains. Despair flooded over her, as did surprise at having slept so
soundly through everything. Her body ached, and the heat made her feel
light-headed and feverish. She slid her tongue around inside her mouth, but
there was no moisture to be found. The nearest water would be in the
below-world. She could scent a passage into the caverns, and it wasn’t far.
The ridge was littered with bodies. Insects buzzed and
carrion birds circled high above. The battle was ended, but she could still
hear the voices of calaihn and ikzhehn dying on the crags. It was
impossible to tell which side had won. In times of war, it was hard to believe
anyone ever truly won anything. Had the calaihn stormed up the ridge and
entered the caverns, or had Sniverlik’s Marauders swarmed over them and chased
them south? Lizneth didn’t much care anymore. All she wanted was to see her
family. To hold little Raial again; to be wrapped up in one of Papa’s hugs; to
warn them that there was a war going on, and that they were its spoils.
Lizneth made her way over the rocks to the spot where
Sniverlik had been standing during the battle. Could she have made it all the
way here without being detected? The dying called out to her in a jumble of
Ikzhethii and the Aion-speech and other languages she didn’t understand, some
begging for a drink, others for death. She hurried past, her heart breaking
with every step. The heat would kill her if she stayed above. And what could
she give to the wounded but the mercy of a quick end?
There were calai corpses strewn about the mouth of the
tunnel. The calaihn began to fare better as the battle went on , she
theorized, though even after she had scented and listened down the tunnel, the
battle’s result remained unclear. Every whiff of haick was tainted with
the stench of blood and death and calai sweat. Bloody trails led off down
the ridge and into the abandoned calai camp, but there were just as many
tracks leading into the dampness of the tunnel.
I’ve put off seeing my family for too long already ,
Lizneth told herself. She took a side passage into the below-world and headed
toward Tanley, stopping to
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