Exile Read Free Page B

protected him when the soldiers had chased him, when Sarc had attacked him, when he’d been too weak to protect himself. Even the Mother, Ma’Vanni, had not allowed the Korde, god of death, to drag him to a watery grave when he’d nearly chosen sinking over swimming. He owed the gods his life, his freedom, and his will. He would protect this little one for them in return. Draken settled in to study the two soldiers. His years spent in his cousin’s Black Guard, hunting down the last of the Brînian invaders who’d gone to ground, had made him familiar with this type of work. Before too long, one of them would step away, and he could make his move.
     

Chapter Two
    E ventually the marshal laid his belt by his side, leaving his sword and dagger within easy reach. He bundled himself into his cloak and immediately closed his black-lined eyes. The servii leaned against a tree, legs crossed, moving his head often enough to let Draken know he was still alert.
    Draken crouched in the darkness beyond the clearing, ignoring his tightening muscles. The forest around them was quiet, too quiet. Where were the birds? The creatures of the night and their prey? For an impossibly long while he waited, joints aching, stomach clenched from hunger. He battled it out with his dry throat, clamping down his jaw until his head ached from the strain of trying not to cough. Ma’Vanni and Khellian, gods of peace and war, slowly rose in the skies. Their light shone on the bundle as it shifted and whimpered again.
    The servii on watch glanced toward the prisoner before strolling away from the firelight, lifting his sword belt to get at the laces on his breeches.
    Draken released a slow breath and crept forward, savoring the relief in moving again. Quietly but quickly he stole across the clearing, making his way to the sleeping form of the marshal. Draken eased the knife from the sheath, pressed his free hand over the marshal’s mouth while at the same time laying the edge of the blade tight against his throat. The marshal’s eyes opened. For a moment Draken’s vision seemed to blur. A black crescent moon imprinted itself on his mind. He blinked it away.
    The marshal’s body went forward in a spasm of strength. Draken pressed the knife harder against his throat, drawing blood. The marshal froze his hand, which had been reaching towards his sword hilt. Draken shook his head and the marshal moved his hand away.
    “I think we understand each other,” Draken breathed in Akrasian. He kept a close eye on the marshal’s hands. His muscles coiled at the ready as he waited for the other guard to reappear. It only took a moment.
    The servii drew his sword at the sight of Draken holding his incapacitated officer on the ground. Draken let go of the marshal’s mouth and threw his sword well behind them. Then he nicked the knife against the marshal’s skin and lifted his eyebrows at the servii. “Drop the sword.”
    “Do as he says, Varin.” The marshal spoke with gruff calm. Draken filed it away. He didn’t spook easily.
    The servii gave his superior officer a mutinous frown but tossed his sword aside. It stuck, hilt up, in the soft dirt near the dying fire.
    Draken gestured with his chin toward the bundle. “Release the child.”
    “Child? That’s what you think it is?” the marshal asked.
    Draken tightened the knife under the marshal’s chin. “Order him.”
    The marshal sighed. “Go on, Varin. Release the Moonling.”
    Draken blinked. A Moonling? Moonlings stole away babies in the night if parents didn’t keep the doors and windows barred. They were creatures from cradle tales.
    Varin moved toward the bundle. “Aye, my lord.”
    Now that Draken was closer, he could see it better. Wrapped in a length of fabric, grasses and dirt caught in the loose weave, and tied tight with silvery rope, the captive truly was child-sized. Dark curls poked through a gap in the end of the fabric, shining in the light of the fire. The servii untied the rope