Read Online The Path to Loss (Approaching Infinity Book 4) by Chris Eisenlauer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chris Eisenlauer
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one of note, just some low-ranking retainer.
Peshil slowed as he approached Bek Ialo’s diminutive castle. If he recalled correctly, Ialo had one lieutenant which might do nicely. Bek Ialo, the Shadow Thief, could steal anything except another Shield’s source, so Peshil was in no danger, discovered or not. In fact, Ialo himself might make for a quick and easy target. His territory was small, he had few followers, and a comparison of abilities definitely favored Peshil. Peshil could be through Ialo’s entire castle, find him, kill him, and consume him in less than half an hour.
He flashed into Ialo’s castle, did an exhaustive search, since this was his first time inside, and finally came across a very strange site. Ialo, still in his dragon form, lay dead in a dried sea of his own blood at the base of his piles and piles of treasure. His eyes had been ruined, not exactly like Baro Suunts’s had, and he had bled copiously from one ear. Peshil smelled no rot or decay, which was even more surprising than finding Ialo dead. Peshil reached out a tentative claw of solid light and rolled Ialo’s corpse over onto its back. He started slightly at the cored breast and the jellied organ at the center of the expanse of dried blood on the floor.
Could the invaders have gotten to Ialo? Was that possible? He supposed it was, but what really concerned him was whether or not Ialo would still make for a good meal.
With several furtive glances, Peshil lowered his head down close to Ialo and took his first bite.
• • •
There’d been no sign of Ialo’s lieutenant which worked out for the best. Peshil had finished with Ialo quickly, his corpse having taken on an unusual consistency, something akin to spun sugar with none of the sweetness. The meal had left him thoroughly intoxicated, though, and interaction with a Shield of any grade would have been a spectacle and an embarrassment. His head cleared after an hour, and he resumed his journey to Chan Fa’s, noting that the town below Ialo’s castle was still populated, which spoke against Ialo being killed by the invaders. Peshil shrugged this off and focused on getting to his destination with a clear head.
He felt none of the intense heat rising up from the seemingly endless lava ocean which separated most of Thrax Palonis from Chan Fa’s territory. The ocean was a natural barrier to all, with only the strongest Shields possessing enough endurance to cover the distance under such adverse conditions. There was a rumor that Kels Ansrath had made the trip, but this was unsubstantiated.
Chan Fa’s territory lay ahead now, a small island continent with the majority of its surface occupied by his walled castle city, and that half submerged within a cloud lake, which spun like a tethered pinwheel, perhaps hemmed in by the heat of the ocean or by other, unknown means. This territory was different from all the others, unique in that it was the birthplace of all the Shields of Thrax Palonis. The society responsible for creating the Shields was long-dead, their arts forgotten, but their legacy lived on. Lustrous black iron walls, immune to rust, stood forty meters high and twenty meters thick to form a square perimeter from which great cube towers rose to greater heights. Everything was of the same smooth, black iron. Peshil couldn’t help but think that the world was unbalanced on its axis with so much metal, surely more than half of all there was to be had on Thrax Palonis, right here in one place.
Peshil stopped above the castle city in his dragon form. He had no way of knowing how to make himself known to Chan Fa, what might incense him, what would be acceptable to him. After only a moment’s hesitation, he cried out to the unmanned gates, “Chan Fa, the Everliving! I am Gim Peshil, the Light Smith! I come seeking audience!”
As there was no response for several minutes, Peshil guessed that his call had gone unheard. For the first time since dining on Shields, a hint of
Peshil slowed as he approached Bek Ialo’s diminutive castle. If he recalled correctly, Ialo had one lieutenant which might do nicely. Bek Ialo, the Shadow Thief, could steal anything except another Shield’s source, so Peshil was in no danger, discovered or not. In fact, Ialo himself might make for a quick and easy target. His territory was small, he had few followers, and a comparison of abilities definitely favored Peshil. Peshil could be through Ialo’s entire castle, find him, kill him, and consume him in less than half an hour.
He flashed into Ialo’s castle, did an exhaustive search, since this was his first time inside, and finally came across a very strange site. Ialo, still in his dragon form, lay dead in a dried sea of his own blood at the base of his piles and piles of treasure. His eyes had been ruined, not exactly like Baro Suunts’s had, and he had bled copiously from one ear. Peshil smelled no rot or decay, which was even more surprising than finding Ialo dead. Peshil reached out a tentative claw of solid light and rolled Ialo’s corpse over onto its back. He started slightly at the cored breast and the jellied organ at the center of the expanse of dried blood on the floor.
Could the invaders have gotten to Ialo? Was that possible? He supposed it was, but what really concerned him was whether or not Ialo would still make for a good meal.
With several furtive glances, Peshil lowered his head down close to Ialo and took his first bite.
• • •
There’d been no sign of Ialo’s lieutenant which worked out for the best. Peshil had finished with Ialo quickly, his corpse having taken on an unusual consistency, something akin to spun sugar with none of the sweetness. The meal had left him thoroughly intoxicated, though, and interaction with a Shield of any grade would have been a spectacle and an embarrassment. His head cleared after an hour, and he resumed his journey to Chan Fa’s, noting that the town below Ialo’s castle was still populated, which spoke against Ialo being killed by the invaders. Peshil shrugged this off and focused on getting to his destination with a clear head.
He felt none of the intense heat rising up from the seemingly endless lava ocean which separated most of Thrax Palonis from Chan Fa’s territory. The ocean was a natural barrier to all, with only the strongest Shields possessing enough endurance to cover the distance under such adverse conditions. There was a rumor that Kels Ansrath had made the trip, but this was unsubstantiated.
Chan Fa’s territory lay ahead now, a small island continent with the majority of its surface occupied by his walled castle city, and that half submerged within a cloud lake, which spun like a tethered pinwheel, perhaps hemmed in by the heat of the ocean or by other, unknown means. This territory was different from all the others, unique in that it was the birthplace of all the Shields of Thrax Palonis. The society responsible for creating the Shields was long-dead, their arts forgotten, but their legacy lived on. Lustrous black iron walls, immune to rust, stood forty meters high and twenty meters thick to form a square perimeter from which great cube towers rose to greater heights. Everything was of the same smooth, black iron. Peshil couldn’t help but think that the world was unbalanced on its axis with so much metal, surely more than half of all there was to be had on Thrax Palonis, right here in one place.
Peshil stopped above the castle city in his dragon form. He had no way of knowing how to make himself known to Chan Fa, what might incense him, what would be acceptable to him. After only a moment’s hesitation, he cried out to the unmanned gates, “Chan Fa, the Everliving! I am Gim Peshil, the Light Smith! I come seeking audience!”
As there was no response for several minutes, Peshil guessed that his call had gone unheard. For the first time since dining on Shields, a hint of
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