The Queen's Blade Prequel I - Conash: Dead Son Read Free

he
might not find his way home weighed heavily upon him, and when he
sank down again, his legs shaking with fatigue, hot tears filled
his eyes. Bowing his head, he scrubbed the wetness away with a
dirty hand and sniffled, then looked up.
    “Papa!” he
bellowed in a cracked treble. “Mama!”
    Silence
answered him, and despair engulfed him.
    “Papa!
Mama!”
    The gloomy hush
closed in behind his thin cry, and his tears redoubled. He did not
want to die alone, lost in the forest. Conash sobbed, rocked and
hugged himself, shouting again and again. Surely his father would
find his trail and follow it, but how long would it take him to
find his lost son? Frustration turned his dread to anger, and he
stood up and kicked the leaves.
    “Papa!
Mama!”
    A moving shadow
caught his eye, and he swung around, his heart thudding. His fear
ebbed when the wood cat emerged from behind a tree trunk, circling
him. It glanced at him each time it came into view, and he wondered
why it had returned. Had it heard his cries? Was it hoping for a
meal when he died? Wood cats were not known as scavengers, but they
probably would not turn up their nose at a free meal.
    The cat circled
him twice, then paused to one side of him and sat down. Conash
approached it, wondering if it would help him. Then again, why
would it? It was a wild animal, he reminded himself. Why had it
returned? He recalled a bedtime story about a wolf that had saved a
lost little girl in the woods by leading her back to her parents'
house, and hoped it was true. Was there not magic in these woods? A
rustle behind him made his heart pound, and he walked faster. The
cat rose and bounded away. Conash stopped with a shout of
frustration, fresh tears running down his grimy cheeks.
    “Papa!” he
shrieked.
    The gloom
increased, and with it, his fear. He rubbed his eyes and sniffed,
looking around. When he turned back, the cat stood there once more,
its ears twitching. Heartened, the boy ran towards it, and it
trotted away.
    After what
seemed like an eternity of stumbling through the dark woods, his
legs aching and his stomach rumbling, Conash sat down, unable to go
any further. The cat paused ahead, glancing back. For all he knew,
it was leading him deeper into the forest. He wept again, his
misery complete. The cat came closer. Conash looked up and
swallowed a sob, scrubbing the tears from his cheeks. This cat was
acting quite strangely. It circled him, its tail twitching, then
sat down only a man-length away and yawned. Conash wanted to touch
it more than anything, and crawled towards it.
    The cat bobbed
its head again as it measured the distance between them. The boy
paused a pace away, afraid to go any closer. The beast could
seriously injure, if not kill him. It rose and stepped closer, then
flopped down and stretched out on the leaves. A deep, rumbling purr
came from it, and Conash stared at it in amazement. A shaft of
moonlight dappled its black coat, and he stretched out a hand,
drawn by the seduction of its soft fur. His fingers brushed it,
sensed its warmth and purring vibrations, then sank in to touch the
sleek muscles beneath.
    Conash gasped
as a wave of warm emotions engulfed him, a mixture of love,
curiosity and trepidation. The cat stopped purring and gazed at
him, and he placed his other hand on its flank beside the first.
The cat was a two-year-old male, he sensed, and he had a name. Ri... Ri-a... Ri-an... He struggled to decipher the word
that formed in his mind, muddled by the strange emotions. Gradually
it cleared, like silt sinking to the bottom of a pool, and a word
solidified and took shape.
    “Rivan,” he
whispered.
    The cat turned
his head and licked the boy's hand with a warm, rasping tongue.
Conash edged closer, stroking Rivan's silken coat, and the cat
purred again. He rolled onto his back, apparently inviting Conash
to rub his belly, and he did. Rivan stretched, his muscles
thrumming, and Conash ran his hand over the cat's taut stomach,
fascinated by its