Read Online The Immortals of Myrdwyer by Brian Kittrell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brian Kittrell
Tags: Speculative Fiction
Ads: Link
Telpist. You’ll be fighting an uphill battle to win,’ I believe it was.”
“Aye.” Laedron took a deep breath. “That’s what they say.”
“You’re right, Lae.” Marac extended his open hand. “Being high in the clouds, it’s hard to see where you came from.”
“We’ve all been under insurmountable stress of late, and I can’t fault you for your words.” Laedron took Marac’s hand. “As we’ve always done, we’ll have to forge ahead despite ourselves. I dream of the day when all of this is behind us.”
“Ouch!” Brice dropped something that thunked against the planks of floor.
Bending down, Laedron picked up an ornate lock, being careful not to stick himself with the barb on the bottom of it. “What’s this?”
“Something Caleb gave me in Azura. Damn!” Holding up his hand, Brice displayed a wound on his finger with blood dripping from it.
Laedron stared at the needle protruding from the lock. The end was soaked with Brice’s blood, and he wondered how Brice had come to be injured by it. “Were you being careless?”
“I almost had it open, and that point shot out of the bottom.” Brice shook his head. “I guess that was the surprise he was talking about.”
“He gave you a trapped lock?” Valyrie asked.
Brice nodded.
Marac chuckled. “What a bastard.”
Valyrie laughed. “My thinking exactly. Will you be all right?”
“It’s just a scratch.” Wrapping his fingertip in a piece of linen, Brice sighed. “It’ll teach me to look closer at something before playing with it.”
Laedron remembered when Ismerelda had shown him the mending spell and how she hadn’t stuck him with the dagger. “A good lesson to learn, but there are other ways of teaching it.” Pulling the blankets back, Laedron sat on his cot, then pulled up his legs. “The hour’s late, and we have a long road ahead. Goodnight.”
« Table of Contents
← Chapter Six | Chapter Eight →
An Ancient Highway
E arly the next morning, Laedron awoke before the others. He sat up in his cot, the sun still not above the horizon, and watched Marac sleep. What have these travels done to him? To all of us? The rage he’d observed in Marac’s eyes the previous night disturbed him. Is it fear? The not knowing? We must hold it together. We must .
Removing the tattered sheet from his body, Laedron stood, being careful not to rouse the others, then ambled to the window. Through the dirty glass, he saw Sir Paldren emerge from what Laedron assumed to be the man’s home. Paldren walked to the wall where they had first met him. I wonder who watches over the place while he sleeps. Or maybe he doesn’t sleep. Maybe he can’t.
Hearing a hideous snort from his right, Laedron scanned the area behind the counter, then sighed with relief. It’s just Brenner. The innkeeper rolled onto his side, and a handful of dust fell to the floor at the man’s shifting. Laedron’s chest tightened. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man so nasty in all my life. I think I kept myself cleaner than that whilst sleeping amongst the refuse in the alleys of Morcaine.
“No!” Marac shouted. He sprang from his bed, then grabbed his chest and tried to catch his breath.
“What’s the matter?” Laedron asked.
“Sorry. Nothing,” Marac said, sweat pouring off his face.
Brice sat up on his cot. “Didn’t sound like nothing.”
Marac wiped his forehead. “Just a bad dream. We were on the tower again.”
Laedron sat across from him. “The tower?”
“In Azura, the Grand Vicar’s Palace. I dreamed that Andolis killed us all, one by one. He saved me for last.”
Laedron smiled and patted Marac on the shoulder. “Thanks to you, he won’t be murdering anyone else.”
“Thanks to me? No. We all had a hand in that.” Balling the damp sheet, Marac dropped it on the floor. “I can go the rest of my days without meeting another Zyvdredi master, though.”
“I know how you feel. I even feel the same way,”
“Aye.” Laedron took a deep breath. “That’s what they say.”
“You’re right, Lae.” Marac extended his open hand. “Being high in the clouds, it’s hard to see where you came from.”
“We’ve all been under insurmountable stress of late, and I can’t fault you for your words.” Laedron took Marac’s hand. “As we’ve always done, we’ll have to forge ahead despite ourselves. I dream of the day when all of this is behind us.”
“Ouch!” Brice dropped something that thunked against the planks of floor.
Bending down, Laedron picked up an ornate lock, being careful not to stick himself with the barb on the bottom of it. “What’s this?”
“Something Caleb gave me in Azura. Damn!” Holding up his hand, Brice displayed a wound on his finger with blood dripping from it.
Laedron stared at the needle protruding from the lock. The end was soaked with Brice’s blood, and he wondered how Brice had come to be injured by it. “Were you being careless?”
“I almost had it open, and that point shot out of the bottom.” Brice shook his head. “I guess that was the surprise he was talking about.”
“He gave you a trapped lock?” Valyrie asked.
Brice nodded.
Marac chuckled. “What a bastard.”
Valyrie laughed. “My thinking exactly. Will you be all right?”
“It’s just a scratch.” Wrapping his fingertip in a piece of linen, Brice sighed. “It’ll teach me to look closer at something before playing with it.”
Laedron remembered when Ismerelda had shown him the mending spell and how she hadn’t stuck him with the dagger. “A good lesson to learn, but there are other ways of teaching it.” Pulling the blankets back, Laedron sat on his cot, then pulled up his legs. “The hour’s late, and we have a long road ahead. Goodnight.”
« Table of Contents
← Chapter Six | Chapter Eight →
An Ancient Highway
E arly the next morning, Laedron awoke before the others. He sat up in his cot, the sun still not above the horizon, and watched Marac sleep. What have these travels done to him? To all of us? The rage he’d observed in Marac’s eyes the previous night disturbed him. Is it fear? The not knowing? We must hold it together. We must .
Removing the tattered sheet from his body, Laedron stood, being careful not to rouse the others, then ambled to the window. Through the dirty glass, he saw Sir Paldren emerge from what Laedron assumed to be the man’s home. Paldren walked to the wall where they had first met him. I wonder who watches over the place while he sleeps. Or maybe he doesn’t sleep. Maybe he can’t.
Hearing a hideous snort from his right, Laedron scanned the area behind the counter, then sighed with relief. It’s just Brenner. The innkeeper rolled onto his side, and a handful of dust fell to the floor at the man’s shifting. Laedron’s chest tightened. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man so nasty in all my life. I think I kept myself cleaner than that whilst sleeping amongst the refuse in the alleys of Morcaine.
“No!” Marac shouted. He sprang from his bed, then grabbed his chest and tried to catch his breath.
“What’s the matter?” Laedron asked.
“Sorry. Nothing,” Marac said, sweat pouring off his face.
Brice sat up on his cot. “Didn’t sound like nothing.”
Marac wiped his forehead. “Just a bad dream. We were on the tower again.”
Laedron sat across from him. “The tower?”
“In Azura, the Grand Vicar’s Palace. I dreamed that Andolis killed us all, one by one. He saved me for last.”
Laedron smiled and patted Marac on the shoulder. “Thanks to you, he won’t be murdering anyone else.”
“Thanks to me? No. We all had a hand in that.” Balling the damp sheet, Marac dropped it on the floor. “I can go the rest of my days without meeting another Zyvdredi master, though.”
“I know how you feel. I even feel the same way,”
Similar Books
