Duel At Grimwood Creek (Book 2) Read Free Page A

And if that doesn't frighten you to death, then it should.”  
    “I don't give a fuck what it was, Chukshene. It's gone. And I've got other shit on my mind. Raste is getting away. He's halfway to fucking Grimwood Creek by now and that means he's almost out of my reach. And I ain't having that. I won't fail again.” The elf felt a surge of rage hotter than anything she'd felt in her life. Her eyes felt like they were glowing with hate. She didn't want to think about Talek's box. Didn't want to know. Not yet. Time for that later. “I've failed too many times in my life. No more. I'll find him. And I'll have his fucking head!”  
    “You're the most stubborn woman I've ever known, Long-ear. And that's really saying something. Did I ever tell you about my wife? One of them. Well, either of them. Okay, let's not start that again. Let's just say you're stubborn.” He waved his hands in annoyance. “You know, you might not believe it, but I do kind of give a shit about you. Not much. A little shit. Like, one that squeezes out your ass, but it's not quite the whole shit? Just a little fucking ball of shit? You know the kind. But it's enough of a shit to care about whether some fucking thing eats you from the inside out or not. So I'm telling you, you should get help. Not from someone like me. My magic doesn't run that way. A mage. A real one. I might even know a few who'd help.”  
    A flash of fear and anger shot through her as she thought of spellslingers. A mage had crippled Talek. It was a mage who had ruined any chance at happiness she had.
    “Don't talk to me about spellslingers, Chukshene,” she said through her teeth. “Not if you want to keep your tongue inside your head.”  
    The warlock tapped his book in frustration. “I know you don't like mages, Nysta. I know why. And it's a fucking good reason you've got. But it was a Caspiellan who torched your husband. Not a Fnord. There's a big fucking difference. And you should learn that difference quickly, because your life might depend on it. I'm serious now. If it's still inside you, it could do worse than fucking kill you. You need to be sure it's gone. You need to be examined.”
    She struggled to her feet, feeling the stiffness in her legs give way to the pain of swollen wounds. “Whatever,” she grunted. Rolled her shoulders. Began strapping the bracer back onto her arm and checking her weapons.
    “What are you doing?” The warlock shot her an incredulous look.  
    “Taking your advice, 'lock.” She started limping south, following the treeline. “I'm checking myself out.”  

CHAPTER THREE
     
    South of Spikewrist, the land grew more treacherous with every step.
    Cracks in the ground which had surrounded the town grew deeper. And the shale skirting along the trenches made for uncertain footing. There was nothing beautiful in the long undulating dunes of brittle stone and everything to fear in the sullen echoes of a hellish war.
    Ice and snow clung to boulders and shredded stones, promising a cold grave to careless travellers. The odd bone here and there were testament to this.
    Forced to leave the relative cover of the twisted treeline, the elf led the warlock along the path winding crookedly through the trenches. Her eyes glittered as they caught sight of the heavy tracks left by the Bloody Nine. They were pushing their horses too hard, she reckoned.
    Perhaps the fear felt by the younger men had infected the more experienced soldiers.
    Fear of her, she thought with a tight grin.
    Raghead, they'd called her. So now they knew what was on their trail. They would ride those horses to death, she figured. And then they'd run to the town. Where their ultimate destination lie, she couldn't say. But she knew once they made Grimwood Creek, there'd be little chance of catching them after that.
    They'd disappear.
    East or west?
    Most likely east. Toward the coast. Catch ship to anywhere and lose themselves in any city in the Fnordic Lands. She'd hunt for