Read Online The Black Tower by Steven Montano - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steven Montano
Tags: Fantasy
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keep pace with Blackhall.
Ebonmark’s citizens were doing their best to carry on with their morning in spite of the presence of so many soldiers just outside the walls, and the air was alive with the sounds of the market and the passage of wagons and men on their way to work. Every soldier he saw saluted him, their young faces eager and ignorant as to the atrocities awaiting them. He wished he had some way to warn them, but no words could adequately describe the horrors of mass combat. He’d spent years as a foot soldier at the Skull of the World, battling scores of Tuscars in the bitter cold, waiting in trenches and freezing in the winter chill, spilling blood that dried black on ground like putrid sludge, suffering chillbains and hallucinating between battles, lying in wait, watching the night fires, praying the Veilwardens would just burn the hordes away or that the trolls would be deployed so they could all finally go home. He’d never intended to stay in the White Dragon Army, not after those nightmares, but he’d wound up making it his life in spite of himself.
The only reason I’m still in is because I don’t know how to do anything else.
They passed through the city gates and entered the outer residential districts, where the hard rains had turned the ground to mud. Dogs and children made black by grime ran to and fro, dodging in and out of the crowds of soldiers and barely avoiding the wagons bound for market. The houses near the road were similarly caked in mud, and a nearby avenue circled round a marble fountain that had been cracked and drained of its water years ago. The shops were open, and the streets were busy.
“Blackhall,” Gess said. “Not to ask a ridiculous question, but...”
“But why am I so concerned with Karthas’ approval all of the sudden?” Blackhall countered.
“Good guess,” Gess said with a nod. “Not two weeks ago you were doing everything you could to go behind his back.”
“The game has changed,” Blackhall said as they passed an apple vendor. Gess forked over a copper for a massive golden fruit slick with morning dew. “Karthas’ specialty is war. It’s all he’s ever known, all he’s ever loved. He wanted to start one right here in Ebonmark, and I couldn’t abide that. I took that war away from him.” He stopped and faced Gess. “I need to grant him this one, and let him do things his way.” Gess watched him, probably ascertaining how crazy he was, but after a moment the Veilwarden nodded. Blackhall turned and got back on course. There was a sausage vendor at the edge of Harp Street whose food was absolutely fabulous, and he intended to get some smoked links before they had to depart. “I was also serious about not starting any trouble with Den’nar. I’m on a short leash with Karthas as it is; finding that damn amulet bought me some favor, and that’s the only reason he hasn’t already found a reason to deploy me back to the Skull of the World.”
Gess walked with him without commenting, which Blackhall felt certain was a first. They passed the fountain. A small horde of children chased chickens and tried to snag them in burlap sacks; when they were outmaneuvered by the poultry they turned on one another and shoved bags over their playmate’s heads. Dawn’s light spilled over Clock Street, drowning the hard-packed lane with red and gold light. Doors opened, and people emerged to assemble near the gates and watch the occupying Jlantrian forces set off for battle. Blackhall wondered how many of them secretly wished the White Dragon Army wouldn’t come back. They’d saved the city, but most of those people didn’t know that, and even if they did they likely blamed the Jlantrians for Ebonmark having been placed in danger in the first place.
He and Gess passed bakers and butchers, and they stopped just long enough for Blackhall to buy two links of sausage. They were greasy and delicious,
Ebonmark’s citizens were doing their best to carry on with their morning in spite of the presence of so many soldiers just outside the walls, and the air was alive with the sounds of the market and the passage of wagons and men on their way to work. Every soldier he saw saluted him, their young faces eager and ignorant as to the atrocities awaiting them. He wished he had some way to warn them, but no words could adequately describe the horrors of mass combat. He’d spent years as a foot soldier at the Skull of the World, battling scores of Tuscars in the bitter cold, waiting in trenches and freezing in the winter chill, spilling blood that dried black on ground like putrid sludge, suffering chillbains and hallucinating between battles, lying in wait, watching the night fires, praying the Veilwardens would just burn the hordes away or that the trolls would be deployed so they could all finally go home. He’d never intended to stay in the White Dragon Army, not after those nightmares, but he’d wound up making it his life in spite of himself.
The only reason I’m still in is because I don’t know how to do anything else.
They passed through the city gates and entered the outer residential districts, where the hard rains had turned the ground to mud. Dogs and children made black by grime ran to and fro, dodging in and out of the crowds of soldiers and barely avoiding the wagons bound for market. The houses near the road were similarly caked in mud, and a nearby avenue circled round a marble fountain that had been cracked and drained of its water years ago. The shops were open, and the streets were busy.
“Blackhall,” Gess said. “Not to ask a ridiculous question, but...”
“But why am I so concerned with Karthas’ approval all of the sudden?” Blackhall countered.
“Good guess,” Gess said with a nod. “Not two weeks ago you were doing everything you could to go behind his back.”
“The game has changed,” Blackhall said as they passed an apple vendor. Gess forked over a copper for a massive golden fruit slick with morning dew. “Karthas’ specialty is war. It’s all he’s ever known, all he’s ever loved. He wanted to start one right here in Ebonmark, and I couldn’t abide that. I took that war away from him.” He stopped and faced Gess. “I need to grant him this one, and let him do things his way.” Gess watched him, probably ascertaining how crazy he was, but after a moment the Veilwarden nodded. Blackhall turned and got back on course. There was a sausage vendor at the edge of Harp Street whose food was absolutely fabulous, and he intended to get some smoked links before they had to depart. “I was also serious about not starting any trouble with Den’nar. I’m on a short leash with Karthas as it is; finding that damn amulet bought me some favor, and that’s the only reason he hasn’t already found a reason to deploy me back to the Skull of the World.”
Gess walked with him without commenting, which Blackhall felt certain was a first. They passed the fountain. A small horde of children chased chickens and tried to snag them in burlap sacks; when they were outmaneuvered by the poultry they turned on one another and shoved bags over their playmate’s heads. Dawn’s light spilled over Clock Street, drowning the hard-packed lane with red and gold light. Doors opened, and people emerged to assemble near the gates and watch the occupying Jlantrian forces set off for battle. Blackhall wondered how many of them secretly wished the White Dragon Army wouldn’t come back. They’d saved the city, but most of those people didn’t know that, and even if they did they likely blamed the Jlantrians for Ebonmark having been placed in danger in the first place.
He and Gess passed bakers and butchers, and they stopped just long enough for Blackhall to buy two links of sausage. They were greasy and delicious,
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