Citadel World, book 2
The Secret of Atlantis
by Kir Lukovkin
Release - February 26, 2018
Pre-order here - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077TTSMQM
The cold wind blew swathes of snow into Paul’s face.
He closed his eyes and nearly fell to the ground from
the blow he received.
“Where are you going!” someone growled in front of
him.
Paul pulled on the reins of his bay horse. The other
riders behind him followed suit. They shouted at each other, conveying the
command to halt along the chain of riders. Paul rose in his saddle, trying to
make out what was going on at the head of the column. Excited voices could be
heard, sounding like they were in arguing fiercely. Lanky Pete rode up on his
old nag and asked him about what was going on ahead.
“I don’t know,” Paul muttered. “We wait.”
Lanky Pete grimaced unhappily and rode on. Paul stared
at his retreating back, dumbly. It was cold and all he wanted to do was to
return to their Retreat, stretch his legs in front of the big fireplace and
drink some hot ale. The horses snorted, flicking their ears and nervously
looking around. Paul turned to see what his bay horse Duchess was looking at
and examined the edge of the Canal—a long depression that ran almost as far as
the horizon. Nothing, just a gray line that grew misshapen as it stretched out
in the haze. Duchess was clearly getting
nervous.
The cold wind blew swathes of snow into Paul’s face.
He closed his eyes and nearly fell to the ground from
the blow he received.
“Where are you going!” someone growled in front of
him.
Paul pulled on the reins of his bay horse. The other
riders behind him followed suit. They shouted at each other, conveying the
command to halt along the chain of riders. Paul rose in his saddle, trying to
make out what was going on at the head of the column. Excited voices could be
heard, sounding like they were in arguing fiercely. Lanky Pete rode up on his
old nag and asked him about what was going on ahead.
“I don’t know,” Paul muttered. “We wait.”
Lanky Pete grimaced unhappily and rode on. Paul stared
at his retreating back, dumbly. It was cold and all he wanted to do was to
return to their Retreat, stretch his legs in front of the big fireplace and
drink some hot ale. The horses snorted, flicking their ears and nervously
looking around. Paul turned to see what his bay horse Duchess was looking at
and examined the edge of the Canal—a long depression that ran almost as far as
the horizon. Nothing, just a gray line that grew misshapen as it stretched out
in the haze. Duchess was clearly getting
nervous.