Wildling Read Free Page B

unclean creatures could be said to have hearts, and she let out a screech even as she died.
    The harpy fell, still screeching. Tumbling end over end in the air she covered the fifty feet to the ground in a tangle of confused limbs. Veria looked up in shock and managed to scramble out of the way just before the harpy smashed into the ground where she’d been. It was lucky. Even if the harpy was dead and her poisoned talons didn’t scratch her, she could have been badly hurt just from the impact.
    Then, when she’d made it to her feet and stopped staring in horror she spun round, searching for more harpies or for the person who’d shot this one. Of course she couldn’t find him. Lying on his side with the roof’s small wall hiding him, he was invisible. But she would know that the arrow could only have come from the fortress. There was nowhere else.
    Meanwhile he was more worried about the presence of other harpies. Where there was one there was generally a pack. It was one of the things that made them so dangerous. They were the jackals of the sky. But try as he might he couldn’t see any others. Maybe she had come alone? Maybe she’d left the pack to chase Veria. And maybe, though he didn’t want to imagine it, the rest of the pack was back in Little Rock. That would be a reason for Veria to pray.
    “ Thank you!” Veria called up to him realising though she couldn’t see him that there was someone in the ruin with a bow. And then she turned and ran, heading for the gate as fast as she was able, and the overgrown track beyond.
    As she fled Dorn found himself conflicted. He wondered if he'd done the sensible thing. He knew he had done the right thing. He had saved her as he had to. But was that sensible when he had also risked exposing himself? Who would she tell? Would others now realise that the ancient fort was home to someone? And if they did what would they do about it?
    Only time would tell.
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Two.
     
     
    After Veria had left Dorn remained behind filled with questions. But more than questions, worries. Harpies? Desperate prayers to an ancient goddess? Whatever was going on in Little Rock it couldn't be good. And the sight of the tears in Veria's eyes – the fear on her face – brought back unhappy memories. Painful times.
    He had seen a woman cry before – just like her. He had seen a mother with fear like Veria's on her face. In her eyes. And that woman had been his own mother. Frightened because she knew they were all in terrible danger.
    That awful day six years ago was burnt into his memories. The day the Clearwater family secret had been revealed to the world and to the Dicans. That they were wildlings. The day that they'd had to flee Lampton Heights.
    It had been a day that they'd dreaded for a long time. A day they'd tried to prevent from coming all their lives. Hiding their gifts. Making sure no one ever found out, because there were informers everywhere. Pretending to be just like everyone else. And never standing out. Never being noticed. That was the key to survival in Lampton Heights for wildlings. For those who followed different gods as well. And they'd been so very careful.
    But from the instant they'd been exposed it was too late. His mother had cried as she'd thrown a few clothes into a bag. His sister had cried too, not fully understanding what had happened but knowing it was bad. His father had watched the street desperately as he urged them to hurry. And Dorn had shifted. It was the only way.
    They’d fled Lampton Heights that day. Both the city and the province. They'd had no choice. All their secrets had been exposed to the Dicans in one terrible accident. It might have been his baby sister whose gift had been exposed, but everyone knew that the gift ran in families. From the moment Terra had been seen bending light they had all become targets for the black priests. They would all have been burnt alive. So they'd all had to run. And unfortunately they'd