Filed To Story: The Knight and the Moth Book PDF Free by Rachel Gillig
“Right as rain,” I snapped. I looked to Rory.
And let out a sharp cry.
I could see it, even in the dim light-even with water in my eyes. A massive dent in Rory’s breastplate.
He gasped for air. “Keep your balance. There are pikes at the bottom of this pit.”
I swore, then shouted once more at the gargoyle. “Throw something down to us.”
“There’s a hefty weave of rope here-oh, but Bartholomew!” He screamed. “There are worms on it.”
“Gargoyle!”
“Must I always save everyone?” He let out a string of language so jumbled not even a scribe of the Seacht could make sense of it, retrieved the rope, and threw it into the pit.
Rory and I hauled ourselves out.
“Well.” Rory lay on his back and wheezed. “At least we know we’re in the right tunnel.”
“That pike might have killed you.” I leaned over him and ran my hand over the angry dent in his breastplate. “Gods, I could kiss your armorer.”
“What about me?” The gargoyle was seething. “Is no one going to kiss me
?”
Rory reached for his face-kissed his stone cheek. “Help me get this off.” He winced. “It’s getting hard to breathe.”
I helped the gargoyle undo the straps and hauled the breastplate off. Rory coughed, then went suddenly pale. “Fuck.”
He looked down at himself. At the tunnel floor. “It’s gone.” Panic touched his voice. “My coin.”
All three of us peered into the pit. The torrential current that had knocked us from our feet was now a steady drip. But the remains of it were still there-a black pool of water deeper than I was tall.
“All the armor comes off, then,” Rory said.
“You can’t jump in there,” I cried. “What about the pikes?”
He stripped his gauntlets. “I’ll avoid them.”
“There must be thousands of coins at the bottom of that pit!”
Off came his vambrace, pauldrons. “Gold ones. Mine’s stone.”
“And that shiny new bruise on your chest-no doubt over your lungs? What about that?”
Next were his cuisses and greaves. “I’m a good swimmer.”
“No, no, Bartholomew, better that I take the risk. I am very good at saving people, after all.” The gargoyle stretched his wings, suddenly heroic after his kiss. “What exactly am I looking for again?”
Rory shot me a heavy-lidded glower.
I bit down. “Do you really need the coin?”
“As much as you need your hammer and chisel.” Off came his chainmail.
I wasn’t going to win this. “Just… be careful.”
Rory stood before me in his under armor. Hooked my chin. “It means something that you care enough to argue.”
Breath fluttered out of me. “Maybe I just like fighting with you.”
“I’m sure that’s the only reason.” He brushed his thumb over my lips. Dropped a kiss onto my mouth, pulled back-then kissed me again, like he couldn’t help himself.
The gargoyle sighed. “Really, Bartholomew, when are you going to put her out of her misery and tell her you love her?”
Rory’s dark eyes roamed my face. He grinned.
Then disappeared down the rope into the pit.
For a time there was nothing, just silence and the occasional sound of Rory in the water. The air in the tunnel was tepid, oppressive, and it was dark. So very dark.
Still, I saw it.
A shadow, darting past my periphery.
“Gargoyle?”
He was next to me, eerily still as he looked down the tunnel. “I saw it, too,” he whispered.
“Is someone there?” I called out.
Is someone there? my echo answered.
I rubbed my eyes and tried to see into the impenetrable darkness.
There was a clacking-so near I felt it in my chest.
Clack, clack.
Clack, clack, the echoes sounded.
Clack, clack.
Prickles rose on the back of my neck. “Rory.” I leaned over the pit and tugged the rope. “The Heartsore Weaver, Rory.”
But my voice never found him under the water.
The gargoyle gasped. “Look, Bartholomew.”
Out of the darkness, a shadow shifted. It came toward me, and I saw that it was small and on wings. Pale and delicate as gossamer.