Read Online The Scorched Earth (The Chaos Born) by Drew Karpyshyn - Free Book Online
Authors: Drew Karpyshyn
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wasn’t these two she most feared, however. She had failed in her mission, and Orath did not forgive failure. By now, the leader of the Minions had probably sent others after her: most likely the Crawling Twins. Those who had come to power under Daemron’s rule had not done so by being merciful, and any excuse to eliminate a potential rival would be eagerly seized. If they sensed Raven’s presence nearby, they would be quick to turn on her.
Yet there was more to Raven’s plan than simply hiding from the wrath of her fellow Minions. The Crown alone wouldn’t be enough to bring down the Legacy and usher in Daemron’s return. Orath was searching for the rest of the Talismans, and eventually he would learn what Raven already knew—the Sword was with the Guardian. She had felt its power just before she had abandoned her hunt and fled beyond the Guardian’s reach, muted and faint but unmistakable. Merely returning to Orath with news of the Sword’s location wouldn’t be enough to atone for her failure. She would need to do much more if she wanted to redeem herself.
Soon the Crawling Twins would arrive. Unlike Raven, Erus and Cerus would not hesitate to challenge the Guardian. Together, they might defeat him though she suspected the battle would destroy them as well. She was not so willing to throw her life away. But if she could find some way to defeat the Guardian and claim both the Sword and the Crown for Daemron, she wouldn’t just bereturned to favor—she might even usurp Orath’s position at the Slayer’s right hand.
Until then, she would bide her time, dwelling among the locals and waiting for her chance to strike.
Berlen caught his first glimpse of the lone figure as the snow began to fall. From a distance, she seemed attractive: tall and broad-shouldered, with long, unbraided black hair fanning out behind her in the wind.
Seeing she wasn’t armed, he broke into a run and closed the distance between them. Fifteen feet away he stopped, but the challenge he was about to call out died on his lips as the woman suddenly whirled around to face him.
Up close, he could see that his first impression was right: She was attractive. Beautiful, even. But there was something in the sharp features of her face that chilled him to the bone. Her eyes were cold and empty, and her expression was one of hateful contempt.
The warrior shook his head to dispel the irrational fear: the woman was half his size and wasn’t carrying any kind of weapon.
“Who dares enter the land of the Sun Blade clan without permission?” he demanded.
The woman tilted her head to the side and her eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to understand the meaning of his words.
“Who are you?” Berlen repeated, gripping his spear tightly with both hands and holding the tip out toward her, waist high. “What clan are you from?”
Slowly, the woman began to walk toward him, her head tilting slowly from side to side like a hungry hawk contemplating its next meal.
Resisting the urge to take a step back, Berlen held his ground.
“Stop right there!” he shouted, raising the spear a few inches. “No closer!”
Either she didn’t understand him, or she was ignoring him. Whatever the explanation, the tall woman continued to walk toward him.
Letting loose a battle roar, Berlen stepped forward and thrust the spear into the woman’s midsection. The tip dove through her fur vest and plunged into her stomach, burying itself several inches deep.
The woman stopped her advance but didn’t scream or cry out. She didn’t fall to the ground, but instead wrapped her hands around the shaft of the spear protruding from her gut and slowly began to pull it out.
Berlen was still gripping the other end of the weapon, and he tried to resist by shoving the spear deeper into his adversary. But the woman barely noticed his attempt as she effortlessly slid the tip free. With a quick flick of her wrist she wrenched the shaft from Berlen’s grasp and casually
Yet there was more to Raven’s plan than simply hiding from the wrath of her fellow Minions. The Crown alone wouldn’t be enough to bring down the Legacy and usher in Daemron’s return. Orath was searching for the rest of the Talismans, and eventually he would learn what Raven already knew—the Sword was with the Guardian. She had felt its power just before she had abandoned her hunt and fled beyond the Guardian’s reach, muted and faint but unmistakable. Merely returning to Orath with news of the Sword’s location wouldn’t be enough to atone for her failure. She would need to do much more if she wanted to redeem herself.
Soon the Crawling Twins would arrive. Unlike Raven, Erus and Cerus would not hesitate to challenge the Guardian. Together, they might defeat him though she suspected the battle would destroy them as well. She was not so willing to throw her life away. But if she could find some way to defeat the Guardian and claim both the Sword and the Crown for Daemron, she wouldn’t just bereturned to favor—she might even usurp Orath’s position at the Slayer’s right hand.
Until then, she would bide her time, dwelling among the locals and waiting for her chance to strike.
Berlen caught his first glimpse of the lone figure as the snow began to fall. From a distance, she seemed attractive: tall and broad-shouldered, with long, unbraided black hair fanning out behind her in the wind.
Seeing she wasn’t armed, he broke into a run and closed the distance between them. Fifteen feet away he stopped, but the challenge he was about to call out died on his lips as the woman suddenly whirled around to face him.
Up close, he could see that his first impression was right: She was attractive. Beautiful, even. But there was something in the sharp features of her face that chilled him to the bone. Her eyes were cold and empty, and her expression was one of hateful contempt.
The warrior shook his head to dispel the irrational fear: the woman was half his size and wasn’t carrying any kind of weapon.
“Who dares enter the land of the Sun Blade clan without permission?” he demanded.
The woman tilted her head to the side and her eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to understand the meaning of his words.
“Who are you?” Berlen repeated, gripping his spear tightly with both hands and holding the tip out toward her, waist high. “What clan are you from?”
Slowly, the woman began to walk toward him, her head tilting slowly from side to side like a hungry hawk contemplating its next meal.
Resisting the urge to take a step back, Berlen held his ground.
“Stop right there!” he shouted, raising the spear a few inches. “No closer!”
Either she didn’t understand him, or she was ignoring him. Whatever the explanation, the tall woman continued to walk toward him.
Letting loose a battle roar, Berlen stepped forward and thrust the spear into the woman’s midsection. The tip dove through her fur vest and plunged into her stomach, burying itself several inches deep.
The woman stopped her advance but didn’t scream or cry out. She didn’t fall to the ground, but instead wrapped her hands around the shaft of the spear protruding from her gut and slowly began to pull it out.
Berlen was still gripping the other end of the weapon, and he tried to resist by shoving the spear deeper into his adversary. But the woman barely noticed his attempt as she effortlessly slid the tip free. With a quick flick of her wrist she wrenched the shaft from Berlen’s grasp and casually
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