Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 101
tripped and rolled over and over down the slope. He came to
rest at the bottom, not badly hurt but bruised and shaken.
When he stood up, he continued on at a limp, eyes fixed on the
horizon where dawn was hours away.
And though the fear didn't go away, as the hours passed,
Enneas began to feel again all the anger of injustice and
betrayal he thought he'd overcome years ago. When he wept it
was from frustration, at the end of the only chapter of his life
that had been in any way successful.
Armiger’s eyes had dried out, but he could see. His ears
had withered in his skull, but he could hear the sough of wind
across the top of the shaft as he neared it. Stars glowed above
the lip of the pit.
He had already forgotten the humans. A deep passion
they would not have understood moved him now. He climbed
swiftly, as if chasing something, but what he pursued was his
own meaning.
Choltas had heard the footsteps of the devil fade away.
He knew it would be back unless he stayed very still. This was
the thing's home; it would never venture out into the world
above. So though he couldn't hear it, he knew it was there. If
he stayed completely still, wrapped around himself in this
corner in total darkness, it might not find him. But if he so
much as sneezed, he knew it would be on him instantly.
Even now it might be creeping up on him silently. He
wrapped more tightly around himself, and tried not to breathe.
Time passed, but Choltas did not move. When thirst
began to torture him, he stayed still. He wet himself and shat
in his pants quietly. And eventually, delirium overcame him;
he heard his mother's voice, saw drifting pictures of his home.