Read Online The Shadow Realm (The Age of Dawn Book 4) by Everet Martins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Everet Martins
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further broadening. She rose out of her chair, back rigid. Murmurs flitted over the crowd. A pair of pudgy men inched away from the booth and exchanged worried glances. “I’ll clean it,” he muttered.
Nyset took a deep breath, steadying her quivering arms. They had to respect her.
The man snorted and coughed out a wad of phlegm then spat it onto the drying blood. He frowned down at his work and tilted his head, his wrinkled neck skin creased with dirt. He started wiping it with his soiled shirt, smearing something brown into the blood. “Better?”
She crossed her arms, skin prickling with sweat. “Are you having a bad day?”
“What?” The man recoiled as if bitten.
“You seem to have a lot of anger.”
“I… you shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. We’re abominations.” He stammered, eyes wild.
Nyset saw now that his robes were once white in spots. He was a Purist, part of the group that believed that wizards were only here to enslave humanity. They believed that because of their powers, wizards should be put to death to end their bloodline. Most were orphans looking to be part of something, harmless mostly. They would be fed and clothed, maybe even touched. Perhaps loved for the first time. Some weren’t so harmless. Some had crucified one of Baylan’s friends and left his mutilated body before the Lair in Midgaard.
“We can’t change how we came into this world,” she said softly, meeting his dark eyes.
His teeth clamped down, jaw bulging with tension. She could burn him to ashes in a flash. He had to know that. “I hate… I hate this.” He raked his hands down his cheeks. “I want it gone. Can you make it go away? I want to be normal.”
“As well as I can make the sun stop rising. What’s your name?”
“Claw.” He sniffed and scowled at Vesla.
Nyset snapped her fingers, yanking his eyes back to hers. “Well, Claw. The way I see it you have two options: You can go on hating what you are, maybe try to kill a few wizards before you’re bathed in flames. I guarantee aday will come when you pick the wrong one.” An image of Walter surrounded by Death Spawn, whirling through them with Stormcaller and a sword of fire, flashed in her mind. “Or, you can join me, the Tower, embrace what the god’s gave you, and help us fight the real enemy.”
“What enemy? The Silver Tower tries to fool us.” He turned around, directing his voice to the line of onlookers. “This is all just a wizard trick! They want to enslave us.” He gestured wildly, flailing his arms through the mist.
“Just a trick you say?” She rolled up her sleeves, and thrust her arms out. On her left arm was a scar that wound up from her wrist to her bicep. On her right, the flesh was pocked with holes from a stone that had exploded beside her. “Do you think this was self-inflicted, you filthy cretin?” Nyset said in a rush.
He thought Baylan and Walter’s deaths were rouses, did he. He glanced at her arms, his features softening for a second. Her nostrils flared, flames bursting alight in her palms. No, this was what he wanted. She would not give him that martyrdom. These were men, not demons. They needed diplomacy, not violence.
She lowered her arms, letting the flames sputter out. “Go.” She pointed. “If you don’t believe the Death Spawn are real now, you will when you taste their savage blades.” She projected her voice now. “Mark my words. They will march here, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But eventually.”
Claw turned back to her, his indigo eyes challenging. She would not break eye contact first, would not. She held his eyes for what felt like hours. His eyes penetrated her, made her feel naked. It felt like he was examining her from the inside. She had put up a thick wall of iron there for none to see. She widened her eyes, pits for the swirling mists; let him see all of her. If she could win over the craziest of them, the rest would be easy.
He abruptly dropped to a knee,
Nyset took a deep breath, steadying her quivering arms. They had to respect her.
The man snorted and coughed out a wad of phlegm then spat it onto the drying blood. He frowned down at his work and tilted his head, his wrinkled neck skin creased with dirt. He started wiping it with his soiled shirt, smearing something brown into the blood. “Better?”
She crossed her arms, skin prickling with sweat. “Are you having a bad day?”
“What?” The man recoiled as if bitten.
“You seem to have a lot of anger.”
“I… you shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. We’re abominations.” He stammered, eyes wild.
Nyset saw now that his robes were once white in spots. He was a Purist, part of the group that believed that wizards were only here to enslave humanity. They believed that because of their powers, wizards should be put to death to end their bloodline. Most were orphans looking to be part of something, harmless mostly. They would be fed and clothed, maybe even touched. Perhaps loved for the first time. Some weren’t so harmless. Some had crucified one of Baylan’s friends and left his mutilated body before the Lair in Midgaard.
“We can’t change how we came into this world,” she said softly, meeting his dark eyes.
His teeth clamped down, jaw bulging with tension. She could burn him to ashes in a flash. He had to know that. “I hate… I hate this.” He raked his hands down his cheeks. “I want it gone. Can you make it go away? I want to be normal.”
“As well as I can make the sun stop rising. What’s your name?”
“Claw.” He sniffed and scowled at Vesla.
Nyset snapped her fingers, yanking his eyes back to hers. “Well, Claw. The way I see it you have two options: You can go on hating what you are, maybe try to kill a few wizards before you’re bathed in flames. I guarantee aday will come when you pick the wrong one.” An image of Walter surrounded by Death Spawn, whirling through them with Stormcaller and a sword of fire, flashed in her mind. “Or, you can join me, the Tower, embrace what the god’s gave you, and help us fight the real enemy.”
“What enemy? The Silver Tower tries to fool us.” He turned around, directing his voice to the line of onlookers. “This is all just a wizard trick! They want to enslave us.” He gestured wildly, flailing his arms through the mist.
“Just a trick you say?” She rolled up her sleeves, and thrust her arms out. On her left arm was a scar that wound up from her wrist to her bicep. On her right, the flesh was pocked with holes from a stone that had exploded beside her. “Do you think this was self-inflicted, you filthy cretin?” Nyset said in a rush.
He thought Baylan and Walter’s deaths were rouses, did he. He glanced at her arms, his features softening for a second. Her nostrils flared, flames bursting alight in her palms. No, this was what he wanted. She would not give him that martyrdom. These were men, not demons. They needed diplomacy, not violence.
She lowered her arms, letting the flames sputter out. “Go.” She pointed. “If you don’t believe the Death Spawn are real now, you will when you taste their savage blades.” She projected her voice now. “Mark my words. They will march here, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But eventually.”
Claw turned back to her, his indigo eyes challenging. She would not break eye contact first, would not. She held his eyes for what felt like hours. His eyes penetrated her, made her feel naked. It felt like he was examining her from the inside. She had put up a thick wall of iron there for none to see. She widened her eyes, pits for the swirling mists; let him see all of her. If she could win over the craziest of them, the rest would be easy.
He abruptly dropped to a knee,
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