Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,85
toward the impostor, slowly closing the circle.
With a savage cry, Sharilyn transformed into the wolf. Startled, the guards fell back, their mouths agape as they stared at the creature who had appeared to be a man only moments before.
Jaws snapping, Sharilyn lunged past the guards and hurled herself at the Interrogator, her only thought to rip the throat from the man who had harmed those she loved.
Renick reacted instantly. Drawing his knife, he faced the charging wolf and as the beast hurled itself at his throat, he buried his knife in the wolf’s belly.
A high-pitched shriek, more human than animal, echoed off the cold stone walls.
Jared swore under his breath, the short hairs rising on the back of his neck, as a long, agonized scream rent the stillness of the night.
Kylene shuddered as the heartrending cry rang in her ears. Never in all her life had she heard a cry filled with such terrible anguish.
She stared at Hardane, seeing the agony that slashed across his face as his mother’s soul-shattering scream faded into the quiet of the night.
He threw back his head, a howl of equal pain rising in his throat, and Kylene shuddered again, knowing she would never forget that awful sound, or the look of torment on Hardane’s face.
“Let me go!” Hardane demanded, trying to shake off Jared’s hold.
Jared shook his head as he tightened his grip on his friend’s shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do. We’ve got to get Kylene out of here.”
“I can’t leave them here!” Hardane argued, silently cursing the wound that rendered him too weak and light-headed to break Jared’s grasp on his arm.
“It’s what they wanted.”
Hardane swore under his breath, torn between the need to go back and fight alongside his parents and the need to protect Kylene.
In the end, he had no choice at all. Leaning heavily on Jared, he followed Kylene toward the shore where a small boat waited to carry them out to the Sea Dragon.
Kylene sat on the edge of the bunk, her hand enfolded in Hardane’s as the ship’s doctor examined the deep puncture in his thigh.
The wound had festered and she turned her head away as the doctor probed the swollen mass of mutilated flesh.
She let out a small gasp as Hardane’s hand tightened around hers.
“Sorry,” he muttered hoarsely, and loosened his grip.
Kylene smiled at him. “It’s all right.”
He looked up at her, his gray eyes narrowed with pain, his face pale and haggard. “We’ve got to go back.”
She didn’t say anything, only stared down at him, noting the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the deep lines of pain and weariness in his face.
A night and a day had passed since they escaped from the Fortress. Hardane had ordered the Sea Dragon to put out to sea, then dropped their sails when they were safely out of sight of Mouldour.
He’d slept through that first night and well into the next day, his arms locked around Kylene’s waist as if he would never let her go, as if he feared that, should he release his hold on her, she would disappear forever.
And now it was night again, and in spite of Hardane’s assurances that he was fine, she had insisted that the doctor be called to examine his thigh.
The ship’s physician had confirmed her worst fears: the wound was infected. Unless something was done, the poison would spread and Hardane would die.
And now she sat beside him, trying not to vomit as the doctor lanced the wound, unleashing a river of thick yellow pus and blood so dark it was almost black.
Kylene leaned forward, wiping the sweat from Hardane’s brow with a cloth soaked in cold water. He was hurting, and hurting badly. She could see it in the depths of his eyes, in every taut line of his body. His hair, as black as a midnight sea, was damp with perspiration. One hand held hers in a viselike grip as the doctor probed deeper into his flesh, but she made no protest, knowing that he was hurting far worse than she.
She blinked back her tears, wishing there was something she could do to comfort him, to ease the awful pain that tormented him.