Wings Over Talera - Charles Allen Gramlich [95]
Bryce nodded, no change in the flatness of his gaze, then settled back against his pillows until he was looking up at the ceiling. I saw the puckered scars at the sides of his throat where I’d cut out two toir’in-or myself, but I was thinking of what our cousin Eric Ryall had told me when I’d asked him about where his other milkstones were implanted.
“Inside,” he’d said. “In my guts.”
“What of Vohanna?” Bryce asked suddenly, and I felt a little chill, as if a tiny, snow-laden wind had slipped its fingers along my back. “When I first woke up, you said she was dead.”
After Vohanna’s death, as if triggered by that death, Bryce had awakened from his mysterious coma on the deck of Hurnan Jystral’s flagship. He had said nothing, done nothing at first but lie still and stare into the sky. I’d told him that Vohanna was finished and that we’d erase every sign of her and her evil.
He had smiled then. Or smirked.
Now he smiled again, in the same way.
“Dead. Yes,” I said against his smile. “She died impaled and torn open. And we took her down to the jungle and burned her on a pyre made from the ruins of her ancient city.”
Bryce chuckled when I finished, and turned a face toward me that was as pallid as dying moonlight.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said defensively. “That Vohanna can change bodies. I saw her do it myself. But none of the bodies from her lair were close enough for her to enter. Besides, we burned them too, or what was left of them after the crash of the pyramid.”
My brother’s stare did not go away; it began to anger me.
“And,” I continued, “if she’d possessed someone we would have found it out. Those black eyes of hers would have given it away. I watched for them. I checked everyone on both ships that were involved. Vohanna is dead!”
Bryce drew his strange right hand out from under the blankets and reached up to idly stroke the scars in his throat where I’d taken his milkstones. Then he turned his head until he was staring once more at the ceiling.
“Of course, Ruenn. Surely you are right. But....”
“But what?” I snarled.
My brother gave that little half smile again. His voice was distant when it came.
“But what of the saddle birds, Ruenn? What about their eyes?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Charles Allen Gramlich grew up on a farm in Arkansas, near the foothills of the Ozark Mountains, then moved to the New Orleans area in 1986 to teach psychology at a local university. He’s since sold four novels, two nonfiction books, and numerous short stories. His tales, while mostly in the genres of horror, science fiction, and fantasy, have also included westerns, children’s stories, mainstream fiction, slipstream works, and experimental pieces. Charles has also published poetry and nonfiction, the latter ranging from reference works on science and psychology to articles on writing.
Charles is a member of SFPA (the Science Fiction Poetry Association). He is an editor for The Dark Man: The Journal of Robert E. Howard Studies, and currently lives in Abita Springs, Louisiana with his wife Lana. He has one adult son, Joshua. His blog can be found at:
http://charlesgramlich.blogspot.com
Table of Contents
ALSO BY CHARLES ALLEN GRAMLICH
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
DEDICATION
INTRODUCTION
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR