Broken Blades Don't Sing (Tales of Ashkar Book One) Read Free

Ingols—small,
furry beasts with sharp fangs—taking refuge within the shelter of
the thorny hedges, and Serraemas could entertain with personal
experience.
    The little things weren’t too dangerous,
but—
    A dagger flew straight for Serraemas’s head.
    Instinct took hold, and he rolled over Elena,
waking her as he pulled her over him.
    “What?” Elena yelped in shock at the rapid
movement.
    Serraemas hurried to his feet, grabbing his
staff as the sound of steel puncturing earth filled his ears. “Stay
behind me.” His tone was cool, and his posture collected. The
daggers fine hilt rose from the ground where Serraemas had been
laying upon just moments before, the blade wedged deep in the
earth.
    “Would ya look at that?” barked a rough voice
from the shadows.
    Serraemas glanced to where he had heard the deep
voice, and was rewarded by the sight of a shadowy silhouette
emerging from the darkness.
    “That’s one adorable looking gal,” the man
continued, dead-gray eyes feasting from behind the veil of his hood
as he pulled it down to reveal his ruffian face. “I’m sure she
tastes real nice.”
    Serraemas tensed, the disdain wrinkling his
face. He searched the man’s features carefully, and ran the images
of that fateful night ten years ago for a semblance of
familiarity—but nothing came to him.
    Fate, it would seem, would not allow Serraemas
the sweet taste of vengeance his parched lips asked for.
    “Oh?” the hooded figure snickered. “You don’t
like it when I speak of her like so?” The man straightened from his
slouch, risen index finger tapping against his invisible chin.
“Well, to be frank, you’re not in any position to—“
    “Shut your mouth, animal”, shot Serraemas
balefully.
    The mysterious man cocked his head, taken
aback.
    "Do not fret, Serraemas", echoed a familiar
voice inside his head. “Together we will handle them with
ease.”
    His greatest ally, the elemental Zaranet, had
surfaced to assist him. While Serraemas had heard tales of ancient
entities called elementals that existed where one’s eyes could not
follow, he had been surprised to discover that such a being resided
in him. Not only that, but Zaranet proved to be a great friend.
    According to Zaranet, elementals existed in life
in another realm, the Elemental Plane. In death, however, the
mystical entity had been just as surprised as Serraemas to discover
that the two were bound to each other through a weapon. In his
case, the elemental manifested itself through the staff that
Serraemas wielded, and now, Zaranet’s essence resided in the young,
dark-haired human, granting Serraemas the power to control frost
itself.
    Serraemas closed his eyes, hands uniting in
front of his chest.
    The immediate temperature suddenly dropped,
surrounding foliage withering away until all that remained was
death. From the dried earth rose the chilling mist all too familiar
to Serraemas, a blueish, white chill that signaled the arrival of
his elemental’s power.
    The overwhelming mist hardened, coating the hill
in shimmering ice for as far as the mortal eye could see. That ice
shattered, broken icicles and stardust rising to the air as if
guided by an invisible force. With a sudden crack the floating
carpet of ice shot straight toward Serraemas, transforming into a
thin pillar as it neared the empty space of his conjoined
palms.
    “Is that all you can do?” mocked the brigand. “A
cheap trick?”
    “You have sought death, so I shall give it to
you!” Serraemas exclaimed, chilled mist evacuating his breathe.
    “Oh ho!” the hooded man bellowed.
    No, it wasn’t him.
    A second voice?
    From behind the shadowed male rose the spiked
hair of a second assailant. This one was at least a foot taller
than his companion, and twice as thick in all matters physical. He
was wrapped in a thick hooded cloak, gloves, and boots much like
his shorter counterpart.
    "Looks like the little pipsqueak’s a scary ol'
elementalist, Brag”, spoke the large