Read Book 1 - Bleak Seasons for Free Online

man. He was eager. His excitement was almost
unreasonable. He reviewed the tactics he wanted used to reduce
friendly casualties.
    I left without a word. Without being dismissed.
    Mogaba knew I did not consider him Captain. We discuss it
occasionally. I will not acknowledge him without a formal vote. He
does not want an election yet, either, I suspect because he fears
his popularity is not what a Captain’s should be.
    I will not force the issue. I might get elected by the Old Crew
faction. And I don’t want the job. I am not qualified.
    I know my limitations. I am no leader. Hell, I don’t even
handle these Annals very well. I don’t see how Croaker kept
them up and did all the other stuff he had to do at the same
time.
    I ran all the way to my section of wall.
     
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----

12
    Something hit me like a small, silent cyclone of darkness that
dropped out of the night and nowhere. It devoured me, unseen by
anyone around. It grabbed hold of my soul and yanked. I went into
the darkness thinking, Boy, the Shadowmaster came back in a huge
way, didn’t he ?
    This was unlike anything I had encountered ever before. But why
come after me? There were few players less significant than I
was.
     
----

----

13
    I was summoned. I could not resist. I fought, but soon I
realized that a strong part of me did not want to win.
    I was confused. I had no idea what was happening. I was
sleepy . . . Was all this just because I
wasn’t getting enough sleep?
    A voice called my name. The voice seemed vaguely familiar.
“Murgen! Come home, Murgen!” I felt violent motion,
probably due to a blow I didn’t feel. “Come on, Murgen!
You have to fight it.”
    What?
    “He’s coming. He’s coming back!”
    I groaned. A major accomplishment, apparently, because it
generated more excitement.
    I groaned again. Now I knew who I was but not where I was or
why, or who that voice belonged to. “I’m getting
up!” I tried to say. Must be some kind of training.
“I’m getting up, god-damnit!” And I tried. But my
muscles would not lift me.
    They were rigid.
    Hands pulled on my arms.
    A new voice said, “Stand him up. Get him
walking.”
    The original voice said, “We’ve got to find a way to
head these seizures off before they happen.”
    “I’m open to suggestion.”
    “You’re the doctor.”
    “It’s not a disease, Goblin. You’re the
sorcerer.”
    “It ain’t sorcery, either, Chief.”
    “Then what the hell is it?”
    “Anyway, it isn’t any sorcery like any I ever seen
or heard of.”
    They had me upright now. My knees would not cooperate but these
guys would not let me fall down.
    I opened an eye. I saw Goblin and the Old Man. But the Old Man
was dead. I tried my tongue. “I think I’m back.”
This time I had it. This time my words were slurred but
understandable.
    “He is back,” Goblin said.
    “Keep him moving.”
    “He ain’t drunk, Croaker. He’s back.
He’s aware. He can hang on here. You can hang on here now,
can’t you, Murgen?”
    “Yeah. I’m here. I won’t drift away as long as
I’m awake.” Where was here? I looked around. Oh. There.
Again.
    “What happened?” the Old Man asked.
    “I got pulled into the past again.”
    “Dejagore?”
    “It’s always Dejagore. This was the day you came
back. The day I met Sarie.”
    Croaker grunted.
    “It hurts less each time. This trip wasn’t bad. But
you lose a lot besides the pain. I didn’t see half the horror
I know was there.”
    “Maybe that’s good. Maybe if you can shed all of
that you can break out of this.”
    “I’m not crazy, Croaker. I’m not doing this to
myself.”
    Goblin said, “It’s getting harder to pull him back,
not easier. This time he wouldn’t have made it without
us.”
    My turn to grunt. I could get caught in a cycle of reliving the
nadir of my life, over and over.
    Goblin had not guessed the worst. I was not back yet. They had
dragged me up out of the deeps of yesterday but I was not home.
This was my past, too, only