Heirs of the Fallen: Book 02 - Crown of the Setting Sun Read Free Page A

witnessed days flashing by, becoming years….
His skin dried and withered, became a tattered shroud cloaking bleached bones. In the fullness of time, blowing sands scoured away that parchment skin, then devoured his skeleton. The only proof that he had lived were the bits of white bone scattered over an unknown parcel of desert
—
    Leitos came back to himself with a horrified gasp. For the first time since taking flight, he gave full thought to turning back. The
Alon’mahk’lar
were cruel, but fittingly so, he reasoned. They might grant him continued life. Doubtless, they would deliver upon him pains beyond reckoning ... but after, perhaps, they might favor him with shade and water and food…. Or they might take him away, like they did a select few slaves.
Where do those slaves go?
he wondered absently, not for the first time.
Are they truly sent to serve the Faceless One, as it is whispered?
To find out, to end his suffering, all he had to do was turn—
    A noise, soft yet so unexpected that it might as well have been a mountain crashing down from the sky, obliterated all other considerations. Leitos’s muscles seized up, and he could scarcely breathe. His eyes slowly rolled, seeking the source of that stealthy noise.
    Sand and rock baked under the sun. Nothing moved, yet that sound, a click of stone striking stone, rang loudly in his skull, changing … becoming the sound of stalking feet, hard leather soles studded with iron hobnails, like the sandals the
Alon’mahk’lar
wore.
    All thoughts of being blessed by the chance to serve the Faceless One perished. Fear fell on Leitos, as intense as that which had driven him from the mines. This time, his legs and feet remained fixed. Waiting for death to fall, Leitos squeezed his eyes shut and hunched his shoulders. The brightness of the sun reflected off the barrens, spearing through his eyelids with a crimson glare. Another soft click made him flinch again, but he could not bring himself to open his eyes.
    Silence fell, gaining weight. It took greater courage to finally crack an eyelid and look around than anything he had ever done. He was sure that he would find one of the slavemasters looming nearby, uncoiling a lash, or hefting a cudgel or a sword. So strong was his certainty that Leitos actually saw one of those creatures grinning at him with sharp teeth, an abomination formed by the forced union between the demonic spirit of a
Mahk’lar
and a woman.
    Leitos choked on a scream, even as the image vanished. Only the desert’s cruel face gazed upon him. Leitos blinked, fearing his mind had broken. Without warning, a very real shadow flickered over him. He flung his arms over his head, and collapsed into a tight ball. He huddled there shuddering, waiting….
    Death did not come. The shadow passed, came again, fled and returned. When he chanced to peek through his crossed arms, he saw no
Alon’mahk’lar
standing over him, but a circling vulture. It drifted high above, a dirty scrawl against the sun-seared sky.
    Then came that furtive clicking sound, much softer and less threatening than before. Leitos looked to a nearby scatter of rounded boulders. After a moment of scrutiny, he made out a coiled serpent resting in a band of shade under a stone protrusion. Relief washed over him, and his laughter came out as a desiccated rasp. Before his mirth evaporated, an idea drove away his despair and thirst and fear.

Chapter 3
    L eitos struggled to his feet, one hand gripping a smooth, fist-sized stone. He took one wary, unsteady step, then another. He paused, still seeking out the slavemasters. Except for the glaring adder, he was good and truly alone.
    Arm cocked, he advanced, moving slowly so as not to provoke the serpent. Senses heightened by anticipation, he keenly felt each blistering pebble dig into the bottoms of his tattered feet. The serpent coiled tighter. Leitos halted two paces away when the adder vibrated its tail in warning. His arm shook from the strain of