Читать книгу The Darkening King - Justin Fisher, Justin Fisher - Страница 22

enissimo slowed and pointed above their heads to the branches. Ned could quite clearly see all manner of winged birds. Pigeons, eagles, hawks and owls – and each and every one was scouring the forest with their beady ticker eyes.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tinks’s Big Brother was right – the Twelve’s eyes and ears had been plucked and now kept watch over Barbarossa’s forest.

“Grr.”

Ahead of them they heard several grunts and snarls, followed closely by a piercing howl. Gorrn’s oozing form wobbled nervously and Mr Fox pulled the silenced pistol from his side as Benissimo edged forward.

The trees began to thin out and through the twilight Ned could see that up ahead a small river crossed their path, and on its banks, a little upstream, sat a group of huddled, powerful creatures: four weirs, from the wolf-pack. Before the world had gone mad, their kind had been tasked with keeping the reserve’s borders, but it was well known now that they had sided with Barbarossa and his cabal. Ned had been chased by a weir on Benissimo’s flagship and had met others in St Albertsburg. They were gruff, violent creatures and their muscly torsos were covered in matted fur. Their combination of claws and fangs made them look terrifying, more so because their kind had quite forgotten what it was to be human. These were wolf-men and they lived for the hunt.

Benissimo put a finger to his lips and indicated in the opposite direction, downstream. Ned saw two more weirs coming to join the others. They were between both sets of creatures now and would be found before long unless they crossed the river. They had no choice. As quietly as they could, Ned and his party waded into the water.

Though the river wasn’t wide, it was ice-cold, waist-deep, and its rocks underfoot were slimy and loose. As the water rose around him, Ned breathed in painfully. Step by tentative step they moved, Ned’s heart and chest pounding, the river’s cold current biting at his skin. There was now less than twenty feet between them and the second group of wolf-men. There was a flap of wings above them and a small kestrel swooped down low, first one then another. Was it one of Barba’s tickers? Had they been spotted? One of the wolf-pack noticed, its keen ears pinned back and its slack jaw loose and wide as it sniffed at the air. The other three’s fur bristled and they growled deep and low, scanning the riverbank for movement.