The Second Coming
Page 34
*Holy, holy, holy, is the LORD of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.*
He dissolved into a swarm of fish.
Paine accepted that this would be the end for him. He opened his own mouth to breathe and waited for salt water to fill his lungs, but there was air instead. He felt himself being lifted.
He was being lugged onto a rowboat. He coughed and sputtered as he sucked in life-giving air. His consciousness drifted as he was lifted onto one of the ships.
As Paine fell upon the deck, Fang jumped on him, licked him on the face, and then backed away. He caught the sight of other wolves on the ship, eight of them. They closed around him, sniffing the air.
He feigned a smile. “Fang.”
His attention then turned to a little girl with porcelain features and red hair. She gripped a limp, straw doll in her hands. The girl ran up to Paine to wrap her tiny arms around him. He knelt to let her hug him and she laughed, a shrill sound that lifted his heart. For a brief moment she held his face in her tiny hands and there was a simple joy there.
He put his arms around the girl to return her embrace, nearly falling over with fatigue.
“What is your name, little one?” he croaked.
She laughed again. “Meega.”
The man in the black robes, the one that Paine had learned was his unwilling birth father, came over to him. The man held an urn in his arm. It was marked with strange symbols making the pattern of a pentagram.
He offered a hand. “My name is John.”
Paine retched, spitting up water. “Paine.”
“Is that your name, or how you feel?” The man smiled and there was something about it that seemed charming. He even had gray flecks in his hair.
Paine thought it odd, yet intriguing. He licked his lips.
“Funny,” he said. He’d heard that joke before.
He took John’s callused hand and looked out to the sea wondering what had happened to his sister.
He could no longer feel her presence, nor the pain of her absence. And he smiled.
Good. She wouldn’t know he was coming for her.
Though he was unsure of how he would track her, he had taken from Nahash what he needed; a few summons that would aid him, the art of enchantment, a desire for much more, and the knowledge of his origin.
He would find his sister.
And she will die.
About the author:
David H. Burton was born in Windsor, Ontario to an agnostic mother that instilled in him the love of the written word and a father that taught him to question everything around him, including his own religious indoctrination.
Fantasy and Science Fiction novels have always been David's greatest vice and he has indulged in the likes of Terry Brooks, Robert Jordan, Margaret Weis, Mark Anthony, J.R.R. Tolkien, George R.R. Martin, Robert J. Sawyer, Isaac Asimov, Melanie Rawn, Marion Zimmer Bradley, J.K. Rowling and for interest, some Margaret Atwood and Jose Saramago.
David graduated from the University of Toronto with a major in Biology and a minor in Classical Civilization. He also dabbled in Computer Science, to which he owes his current occupation in the Telecommunications world at one of the large banks in Canada. When David isn't writing he enjoys spending time with his partner and three boys: hiking, swimming, kayaking, biking, and reading. David has a great fondness for Portuguese cuisine, good wine, and all things left of centre.
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