Belly of the Beast Warren Thomas (e novels for free .txt) 📖

            “No, to Bracklin,” he said quietly. “I’m going home.”

Chapter 45

            Nizar stopped. All he could see was the shifting blackness of the night forest. Wind howled in the treetops, drowning out all other sounds. At least the rain had stopped soon after nightfall, allowing him to dry out his clothes with a prayer.

            Finally, they’ve stopped for the night, he thought, gently wiping at his tender nose with the bottom of his veil.

            The tugging in his mind had grown steadily stronger over the past few minutes, meaning he was gaining on them. He had stopped to make sure, and was reassured when the tugging remained constant. Now he only had to give them enough time to bed down for the night.

            Once he judged they had gone to sleep, Nizar eased through the forest as quietly as he could. That meant very slowly for him. Even so, he made entirely too much noise to his suddenly sensitive ears. Surely they would all be roused.

            A soft sound stopped him dead in his tracks. It came again, a snorting sound. His eyes rounded, having heard rumors about the vicious boars of the southern forest. They were said to be big as a lion, and twice as ferocious. Then the sound came again, and he recognized it as human.

            Squatting in place, he peered into the darkness intently. Soon he found what he was looking for. A dark shape was slowly pacing back and forth, like a soldier trying desperately to stay awake and keep warm. Though he was glad to find them, the fact that they had posted a sentry made his task all the more difficult. If it was the elf...well, he didn’t care to consider that.

            Moving in as close as he dared, Nizar said a silent pray to Dakar, asking for the ability to see in the dark. His prayer wasn’t granted. Some things his Divine Master just couldn’t provide. He only wished he’d been given a list beforehand.

            Once I am made a High Priest, I think I’ll do just that for the priests under me, he thought. I’m sure that will impress Dakar, and make Mogens furious. Dakar will surely wonder why His other High Priest hadn’t thought of it first.

            The cloaked sentry reclaimed his attention by bending over to check something on the ground. Long dark hair fell out of her cloak’s cowl.

            Raven! Thank Dakar, I can make her obey, he thought. Now, do I order her to fall asleep, or help me capture the swordsmith?

            The spell on Raven was subtle, so none of the mages and priests in Kestsax would discover it. But that subtleness also made it less powerful. She would undoubtedly obey, but if Tane or someone else asked her why, she might reconsider and turn on him. She still had free will, though undermined to an extent.

            I’ll put her to sleep, just to be sure, he thought. He would’ve liked to have her join him and Tane, so she could be sacrificed upon Dakar’s altar. But foremost in his mind was the fact that Tane’s four companions were one and all capable of tracking him down. That thought didn’t sit well with him. I’ll put her to sleep, then use my powers to make them all zombie slaves while they’re asleep.

            With that thought, Nizar eased closer to the cold camp. He needed to be close enough for Raven to hear his command to sleep, and not wake anyone else up with it. It took far longer than he liked, but finally he came within whispering distance.

            “Go to sleep,” he whispered firmly as the sentry squatted over something she had dropped on a patch of earth cleared of leaves.

            Her head came up instantly, hand flying to the hilt at her waist. Nizar froze. Raven shouldn’t have reacted like that. Then the sentry rose and pulled a straight sword, not the steppe sword Raven carried across her back.

            The witch! What a fool I am!

            Joelle cocked her head this way and that. She started to ease over to the line of bodies just three paces away. But she stopped short, turning back to study the dark forest again. Nizar held his breath, even as he tried to think of something to do.

            If he rushed her, Nizar believed he had a better than average chance of laying hands on her before she could react effectively. If so, she would be his to command, a zombie slave. But that same rush would make too much noise. The others would be on him before he could do anything more. He could only enslave one person at a time, and he had to lay hands on them to do it.

            Joelle looked as if she was going to wake one of the sleeping forms, causing Nizar’s blood to pound in his ears. He was too close to escape if they were alerted to look for him. But she changed her mind, easing back to retrieve what she had dropped on the cleared spot.

            She’s casting bones, Nizar thought, wondering if the bones would tell her of his presence.

            If she became engrossed by her castings, maybe he could sneak up on her. Not likely.

            If only I had that staff Mogens uses to enslave people, he thought.

            The High Priest didn’t like to actually touch any of the prisoners, so had enchanted a walking staff with the spell. Whenever it touched someone, that person became a zombie slave of Dakar’s. If Nizar had such a talisman, then he’d only have to get close enough to jab her with it.

            But nothing says I can’t make one, he thought with rising optimism. Nothing to say I couldn’t enchant, say...a simple rock or stick.

            Gently patting the damp ground around him, Nizar quickly located a bit of rotting wood about the size and shape of his thumb. Now he just had to determine the