crossbow.
“No need for that,” Shade said in Common-tongue. “I am a friend of Dhargoth… and of your prince.” Hiding the fresh surge of exhaustion it caused, he summoned violet tongues of wytchfire, letting them course along his arms before sending them away. Both sentries backed up, awed. Shade was glad the one had not loaded the crossbow yet, or else he might have shot him by accident.
“My name is Shade, champion of Fadarah, the one you call the Sorcerer-General. I have drank the Red Emperor’s wine and shed more blood than both of you combined, times ten. If you have any sense, you’ll lower those weapons and take me to your prince. Now. ”
The sentries exchanged glances. The weapons came down. Both men kneeled.
“Your excellency,” one said.
“Great one,” said the other, “we will take you to see Prince Ziraari.”
Shade resisted the impulse to order them back onto their feet, marveling that they would bow before a creature they probably mistrusted and would like to kill, if only for the challenge.
“Good. Be quick about it. The prince and I have urgent business to discuss.”
The sentries exchanged a quick, hushed word. Then the one with the spear said, “Avaaji will take you to the prince, Excellency. I must keep my post.”
Avaaji bowed. “It will be my honor.” He fit his foot into the stirrup and spanned his crossbow before loading a bolt. Then he gestured for Shade to walk in front of him.
Biting back a smirk, Shade shook his head. “After you , sentry.”
Avaaji blinked. “Pardon, Excellency, but I must protect you. These lands are dangerous, full of Lochurite berserkers and Noshan raiders. It’s a quarter mile to the prince’s tent. If anything harms you, the prince will see I end up like this one!” He hooked his thumb at the weeping man on the stake beside him.
“Oh, I think this one can watch our backs just fine.” Shade forced a smile and nodded at the other sentry.
The sentry with the spear did not return the gesture. “Please let Avaaji protect you, Excellency. It’s our duty and honor to do so.” He tightened his grip on his spear.
Shade forced a smile. “As you wish.” He took a step. As he was passing Avaaji, he drew his sword, spun around, and flicked his blade over the sentry’s throat. Avaaji’s eyes widened. A gurgle passed his startled lips.
Shade felt a familiar exhilaration within him at the sight of blood. He thought of all those Humans he’d killed years ago to avenge the death of a Shel’ai friend. He thought of all the Humans he’d killed since. Shaking off a rush of bloodlust, he reached out and slapped the crossbow before Avaaji could fire it. The arrow flew by and vanished in the darkness.
The other sentry howled. Shade cursed at the noise. Using Avaaji as a shield, grasping the man by a necklace of dried ears that hung around his neck, Shade raised one hand, fingers splayed. Wytchfire burst forth, catching the other sentry full in the chest, bearing him down.
Shoving a dying Avaaji to the ground, Shade approached the other sentry, scanning for reinforcements. He half expected to see a squad of Dhargots charging toward him. Instead, he saw only darkening, snowy fields.
They probably just thought it was the impaled man screaming.
At that moment, though, the impaled man had fallen silent. Shade wondered if he’d died or was merely stunned by what he’d seen. Shade could not see his face in the darkness as he attended to more pressing matters.
The sentry he’d struck with wytchfire had been badly burned but was not dead. The man fumbled for his spear. Shade stepped on his hand and knelt, pressing the edge of his bloody sword to the man’s neck.
“You meant to kill me. Why?”
The sentry’s painted eyes swam with fear and pain. “The prince gave orders. Kill any sorcerer on sight. He said that himself.”
So much for our alliance.
“You said it’s a half mile to the camp?”
The man tried to look at his own scorched chest
“No need for that,” Shade said in Common-tongue. “I am a friend of Dhargoth… and of your prince.” Hiding the fresh surge of exhaustion it caused, he summoned violet tongues of wytchfire, letting them course along his arms before sending them away. Both sentries backed up, awed. Shade was glad the one had not loaded the crossbow yet, or else he might have shot him by accident.
“My name is Shade, champion of Fadarah, the one you call the Sorcerer-General. I have drank the Red Emperor’s wine and shed more blood than both of you combined, times ten. If you have any sense, you’ll lower those weapons and take me to your prince. Now. ”
The sentries exchanged glances. The weapons came down. Both men kneeled.
“Your excellency,” one said.
“Great one,” said the other, “we will take you to see Prince Ziraari.”
Shade resisted the impulse to order them back onto their feet, marveling that they would bow before a creature they probably mistrusted and would like to kill, if only for the challenge.
“Good. Be quick about it. The prince and I have urgent business to discuss.”
The sentries exchanged a quick, hushed word. Then the one with the spear said, “Avaaji will take you to the prince, Excellency. I must keep my post.”
Avaaji bowed. “It will be my honor.” He fit his foot into the stirrup and spanned his crossbow before loading a bolt. Then he gestured for Shade to walk in front of him.
Biting back a smirk, Shade shook his head. “After you , sentry.”
Avaaji blinked. “Pardon, Excellency, but I must protect you. These lands are dangerous, full of Lochurite berserkers and Noshan raiders. It’s a quarter mile to the prince’s tent. If anything harms you, the prince will see I end up like this one!” He hooked his thumb at the weeping man on the stake beside him.
“Oh, I think this one can watch our backs just fine.” Shade forced a smile and nodded at the other sentry.
The sentry with the spear did not return the gesture. “Please let Avaaji protect you, Excellency. It’s our duty and honor to do so.” He tightened his grip on his spear.
Shade forced a smile. “As you wish.” He took a step. As he was passing Avaaji, he drew his sword, spun around, and flicked his blade over the sentry’s throat. Avaaji’s eyes widened. A gurgle passed his startled lips.
Shade felt a familiar exhilaration within him at the sight of blood. He thought of all those Humans he’d killed years ago to avenge the death of a Shel’ai friend. He thought of all the Humans he’d killed since. Shaking off a rush of bloodlust, he reached out and slapped the crossbow before Avaaji could fire it. The arrow flew by and vanished in the darkness.
The other sentry howled. Shade cursed at the noise. Using Avaaji as a shield, grasping the man by a necklace of dried ears that hung around his neck, Shade raised one hand, fingers splayed. Wytchfire burst forth, catching the other sentry full in the chest, bearing him down.
Shoving a dying Avaaji to the ground, Shade approached the other sentry, scanning for reinforcements. He half expected to see a squad of Dhargots charging toward him. Instead, he saw only darkening, snowy fields.
They probably just thought it was the impaled man screaming.
At that moment, though, the impaled man had fallen silent. Shade wondered if he’d died or was merely stunned by what he’d seen. Shade could not see his face in the darkness as he attended to more pressing matters.
The sentry he’d struck with wytchfire had been badly burned but was not dead. The man fumbled for his spear. Shade stepped on his hand and knelt, pressing the edge of his bloody sword to the man’s neck.
“You meant to kill me. Why?”
The sentry’s painted eyes swam with fear and pain. “The prince gave orders. Kill any sorcerer on sight. He said that himself.”
So much for our alliance.
“You said it’s a half mile to the camp?”
The man tried to look at his own scorched chest
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