The Rise of Isaac, Books 1-3, page 33
A sudden shout and a scuffle of footsteps made Oliver snap around and his pulse quickened at the scene behind him.
Ely was being unceremoniously forced into a metal harness by two enormous soldiers, his bag discarded on the floor. Larkin had already been strapped into the heavy-looking chains and was swearing loudly at the soldier who had hold of him. His friend, Arrow, was managing to keep a solider at arm's length, gritting his teeth with the obvious effort it was taking him.
"Hey, get off them!" Oliver ran forwards to help but another solider lunged for his arm, yanking him backwards mid-step.
The Gateway suddenly burst to life, flashes of white and green shooting across it. The soldier that had been chasing them in Aleva stepped through, scowling at them. He held his gun aloft, the red glow of the canister lighting his eyes.
"I don't know which ones are mages!" a stocky soldier shouted in frustration, gripping May by the arm.
"Just put a harness on all of them," the solider by the Gateway instructed as he forced Anna into a set of the metal chains. She struggled against him but he soon had her bound.
Oliver shook off the soldier who was holding his arm and attempting to force a harness over his head. With a surge of adrenaline, he shoved the man in the chest and ran to Rogan and Quinn whose palms were raised up defensively.
"Let them go!" Rogan commanded and lightning crackled to life in his hands.
"Don't be a fool boy," a man growled as he entered the cave. He rubbed his fingers together so a ball of purple fire expanded and lifted into the air above them, casting a flickering light around the cave.
He wore all black with a long cape falling over his back, accentuating his broad frame. The man was built like a machine and his muscular limbs supported an array of glinting swords and knives. Curving around one side of his jawline were a series of fingernail-shaped scars as if someone had clung to it with extreme force.
Another faint slit of a scar ran from the left side of his mouth up to his ear. He had a mop of ebony hair that was pushed back over his head and his eyes were small, piercing and black as death. A pale-faced boy who looked around eight years old peered around his leg with a bewildered expression.
Quinn gasped at the sight of the man. "Dead Xen," she whispered with a note of fear, backing up against Rogan's shoulder.
"Who?" Oliver asked, looking to his friends but found only May looking as confused as he felt. The others' faces were contorted in horror.
"Glad you've heard of me and no doubt of my...reputation," the man said in a throaty purr, slowly licking his thin lips. "So, if I were you, I'd let my men take your bags and put those harnesses on you nice and quick or I'll have no hesitation in slicing off your arms instead. The choice is yours." He pulled a sword from its holster and pointed it at them menacingly, running a palm along the rim and igniting it with purple fire.
"Do what he says," Rogan muttered, meeting Oliver's eye.
Oliver nodded and reluctantly held out his pack to the nearest soldier. The man snatched it and stepped forward to put him into a harness.
Oliver fought all his instincts and let the soldier force the palms of his hands against his sides before dropping the chains over his head. The metal was cold, even through his clothes, and the soldier pulled it so tight that he was forced to expel a breath. For a mage, it would be impossible to use magic without harming themselves.
"Good. Put them in the wagons," Dead Xen said, turning on his heel and exiting the cave with the stomp of heavy boots and chink of weapons.
A soldier jabbed Oliver in the back with a gun and he lurched forwards after his friends. He could hear Arrow whimpering up ahead, pleading with the solider who escorted him.
They emerged in a ravine where a wall of snow lined a track that allowed for traffic to pass through it. Sheer cliff walls of jagged, grey rock shot up on either side of the narrow canyon. Two wooden wagons stood along the track drawn by chestnut-coloured ponies.
"Split 'em up. Boys in this wagon, girls in that one," Xen directed the soldiers as he climbed up onto an enormous black horse with a red leather saddle. The young boy that was following him clambered up onto a small hinny that was tethered to Xen's beast.
Oliver threw a panicked look at May then she was torn away from him in an instant. She, Anna and Quinn were forced up into a wagon by a group of soldiers. His heart wrenched as his eyes locked with May's once more. A spike of courage made him step toward her but she shook her head in warning and he resisted moving further.
Despite being desperate to, he didn't dare say anything under the terrifying gaze of Xen who was circling them on his gigantic horse. A soldier directed their remaining group towards the wagon and they stumbled towards it. Oliver glanced back to see Arrow hesitating behind them. A solider was still struggling to fit the harness around his enormous body.
In a flash of movement, the large boy broke free of the soldier and sprinted flat out back towards the cave, leaving his harness discarded on the ground.
Xen charged after him, swiftly manoeuvring the horse around to block his way. Arrow collided with its shoulder and was thrown backward, almost losing his footing.
"If I were you, I'd think very carefully about my next move," Xen warned.
A noise of fright escaped Arrow's throat then he darted forward. Xen's boot came down on the boy's shoulder in response and he collapsed to the ground, groaning.
Oliver gasped, taking an involuntary step forward only to be yanked violently back by the soldier who held his chains.
"STOP!" Larkin cried out in a panic.
Xen's dark gaze fell on him and his lips twisted into a sneer. "Halt," he said to the men. It was barely more than a whisper but the soldiers in the clearing stood to attention.
Silence fell so the only sound was that of the wind whipping around the canyon, causing Xen's cloak to flap and flutter up behind him in the breeze.
Oliver's heart hammered against his chest as he looked between Xen and Larkin.
Xen dropped to the ground next to Arrow who was in a heap on the floor. He lifted the boy up by his collar, holding Larkin's gaze.
"This your friend?" Xen asked him in a hiss.
Larkin nodded, holding his breath. His face was ghostly pale and a pained expression burned in his eyes.
Oliver had never liked Arrow but he was terrified of what Xen might do to him. His palms blazed with heat as sweat gathered in them.
Xen laughed and his men joined in. He turned to the stocky soldier that had harnessed May. "How many people came through the Gateway, Sergeant Knole?"
"Eight, Commander Xen," he announced, his grey eyes void of emotion.
A pulsing ball of purple fire grew in Xen's palm as he gazed down at Arrow. "One more chance, boy. Get in the wagon," he said in a voice so low that Oliver barely caught it.
Arrow lunged forward.
"No!" Oliver shouted in horror.
Arrow's outstretched fingers grasped for a knife on Xen's hip. His fingers grazed the hilt. Xen moved so fast Oliver could barely register what was happening. A blaze of crimson fire passed between Xen's hand and Arrow's chest, reflecting in Xen's black pupils. Arrow only screamed once then the light left his eyes and he slumped to the ground in a heap.
Time seemed to slow. Oliver's heartbeat became a deafening, dull thump against his eardrums. He blinked again and again, trying to clear the scene before him as if it might not be real. But Arrow remained there: just a lifeless form, his eyes still wide with shock.
Larkin's guttural cry of grief cut through Oliver's transfixed state and he turned to see him falling to his knees. The noise echoed around the canyon, reverberating off the walls. A soldier shoved Larkin hard in the back and he doubled over, shaking with silent sobs.
Oliver gazed over each of his friends' horrified expressions, words having completely abandoned him.
"How many people came through the Gateway, Sergeant Knole?" Xen repeated, kicking the sides of the stallion to encourage him into a trot.
"Seven, Commander Xen," Knole replied, without a shadow of response to the boy's death.
"Good. Let's take them back to Galice then, shall we?" Xen said as he moved past the wagons. "You two." He pointed at two of his men and they hurried forward. "You know the drill."
The men nodded and hurried towards Arrow's body, lifting his large form between them and carrying him away into the snow. They passed a stone house that was nestled against the canyon, completely camouflaged against the grey. Oliver guessed it was the home of the Gateway Keeper but there was no sign of them now.
Oliver spotted the young boy watching him from the hinny. His face was stoney and unchanged. From his expression, Oliver had no doubt that the boy had seen Xen kill before, perhaps countless times.
A soldier approached and Oliver backed away from him. The man raised his gun and gestured for him to enter the wagon. Without hesitation, Oliver turned and followed Rogan and Ely as they marched into it up a ramp.
One of the soldiers dragged Larkin toward the wagon; his harness rattled on the wood as the soldier lifted his legs and hauled him backwards up the ramp.
"No-we can't leave him! NO!" Larkin's voice broke as he shouted.
The soldier released Larkin and exited the wagon. He pushed the ramp upwards to close them in, making a door.
Larkin struggled to his feet, unable to use his bound hands to assist him. He kicked the door as hard as he could and a loud crack sounded as the wood splintered but didn't break. He roared his anger then sunk to his knees, his head hanging low and his eyes squeezed shut.
Oliver felt sick. He dropped to the floor and shuffled up close to Larkin. He didn't say anything. He didn't know what he could possibly say that would make it any better. He looked around at Rogan and Ely, the same looks of alarm and fear reflected in their features as his own.
"What are we going to do?" Oliver whispered as the wagon lurched forwards.
Ely slowly shook his head.
Oliver gazed at his grandfather: the man he had come to depend upon and trust, the man who had always known what to do in a crisis since the day May had fallen ill to the curse. He waited with bated breath for Ely's answer.
"I don't know," Ely said, his face as pale as ice.
THE RISE OF ISAAC
BOOK TWO
BLEEDING SNOW
CAROLINE PECKHAM
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Published by Caroline Peckham 2016
Copyright 2016 Caroline Peckham
All rights reserved
Caroline Peckham has asserted her right under the copyright, designs and patents act, 1998, to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
To my loving parents,
For always believing I could do anything I set my heart on.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A huge thank you from the bottom of my heart to:
My sister, Susanne, for all the time you spend on my books and for being as excited about them as I am.
My parents, Pauline and Steve, who never fail to support me in my writing endeavours and for listening to me incessantly ramble on about my books.
My childhood friend Vicky and her wonderful fellow writer husband Jooles for being so incredibly supportive and never failing to give me invaluable tips.
My first ever friend from university, Kathleen, who will be by my side forevermore and her beautiful daughter, Annabelle, who I am over the moon to be Godmother for! I hope one day you enjoy my books too little girl.
For my crazy university friends Lucy, Sophie, Graham, Natalie, Jane, and Kelly who are always so amazingly supportive of my writing.
For my official advanced readers who never fail to be efficient, reliable, honest and (best of all) the first ever true fans of my books.
For my blogging buddies, Facebook followers, Twitter tweeters, and Goodreads groupies - thank you!
BLEEDING SNOW
CAROLINE PECKHAM
CONTENTS
Prologue: The Stone and the Beast
26. The Red Trail
1. The Wrath of Xen
27. Secret
2. Into the Freezer
28. Snow
3. Lurking in the Dark
29. Outside
4. Harrow
30. Signs of Life
5. Risen from the Grave
31. The Frozen Lake
6. The Light of Day
32. The Den
7. The Face of Justice
33. The Old Manor
8. Boiling Point
34. Foolish
9. A Change of Fortune
35. Cornered
10. Chosen
36. The Archives
11. The Fate of One
37. Quiet
12. Beneath the Stars
38. Fading
13. High on the Mountain
39. The Only Way
14. A Message from Vale
40. A New Beginning
15. The Huntsman
41. The Marked One
16. Into the Wilderness
42. Pursuit
17. Down in the Gully
43. A Friendly Face
18. The First Arclite
44. Reunited
19. The Palace Doctor
45. A Payment of Blood
20. A Forbidding Path
46. Baring the Soul
21. Glass
47. Ghosts
22. The Descent
48. The Pack
23. Blackout Pass
49. Where the Heart Lies
24. Parting
50. The Blood that Binds
25. Blades and Blood
51. Smoke and Bone
Epilogue: A Growing Threat
PROLOGUE
The Stone and the Beast
Hector crept through the cave, halting just before it opened out into a colossal cavern of mottled grey stone. He chanced a look inside, holding his burning torch aloft to cut through the darkness. A silent gasp escaped his lips as he flattened himself against the wall.
Focusing on the cold, sharp rock pressing against his back, he slowed his erratic breathing and shut his eyes to aid him in finding the calm, collected space inside his mind.
Hector pushed his unruly hair out of his eyes and reached for the hunting knife at his hip, curling his calloused fingers around the hilt. He crouched and silently shuffled forwards to survey the cavern.
The groll he had been tracking was cornered. There was no other exit except the dark tunnel he was emerging from. The beast was enormous, approximately three times Hector's own height and the same again in width. Its skin was a pallid grey that blended with the stone wall beyond it.
The groll was facing away from him. It stood erect like a man but its back was hunched so its head hung low on a barely visible neck. Clasped in one of its fists was a scrivenstone: a vast gemstone the size of a human head and shaped like the blade of an axe.
Hector eyed it hungrily and shifted the weight of the knife in his hand, comforted by its familiar feel. He had been sure he could do this, he had to. But it might be the fiercest creature he ever took on.
The scrivenstone was too sharp to touch but Hector had a plan.
He waited until the groll began chiselling at the wall with the stone, causing an uncomfortable screeching noise to fill the room.
Hector stepped forwards, his footsteps masked by the piercing sound.
The scrivenstone twinkled and shone like diamonds as the groll raised it above its head, winking at Hector as it reflected the firelight back towards him. He carefully dropped the torch to the ground and slowly approached the groll at a low crouch.
The muscles in Hector's legs tensed as he paused in the groll's shadow. With an explosion of energy he leapt towards the beast, knife drawn and heart pounding.
The blade sunk into the groll's thigh and it roared out in agony, turning to locate the source. Two yellow, cat-like eyes were embedded in its wrinkled and hideous face. They roamed the room, desperately searching for its attacker.
Hector slipped behind its legs as it rotated, making sure he remained hidden. He stabbed again, this time slicing its calf. The groll bellowed and stumbled away, shock portrayed in its wrinkly features.
Hector gritted his teeth then charged once more. This time he was too slow. The beast swiped at him with an arm, knocking him to the ground. He hit the stone with a thunk, causing his head to spin wildly.
Hector blinked to clear his vision just as a giant fist hurtled down towards him. He rolled aside and the groll's knuckles impacted with the floor, cracking the ground in two. Hector jumped to his feet and danced away, holding his blade up high as he circled the creature.
"Come on, beasty," he growled, spinning the hunting knife in his hand.
The groll charged towards him with its bald, bulbous head bent over like a battering ram. Hector dodged it and swung his knife, slashing at the arm that held the scrivenstone. The beast cried out as the blade slit its skin.
