Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles Read Free Page A

Letcher was simply the final entry on a long list of items they didn’t like about him. It mattered little to them he’d only done so in self-defense.
    Freya, Captain Jacobson’s adda-ki , roared for no reason Aelron could decipher. But then there was little about the giant feline mounts, with their bright-red fur, that he understood. Not only would they not moor with him, but the riderless ones became aggressive whenever he approached. They stampeded the last time, killing two rangers and injuring five others.
    Another infraction they held him responsible for.
    Captain Jacobson glanced over his shoulder at Aelron and glared through eyes made feline by the mooring process. Jacobson sat straight-backed atop Freya. He wore a brown leather jerkin pulled over a woolen shirt that had seen far too many fights. His beard had grown ragged from weeks without a shave.
    Two paces , Aelron thought. One jump over the rail and two paces to Jacobson. I can free that dagger he hides in his boot and…what am I saying? I’m not a murderer, despite what they think!
    Aelron glanced around, searching for an alternative.
    Seven paces to the forest and I can disappear into the trees. They’ll never find me in that dense foliage.
    But that wouldn’t work either, and he didn’t need to flip the cursed silver coin he kept in his pocket to know it. Jacobson wasn’t alone. Ten of the best Shandarian Rangers in the order followed him. Aelron’s skills were impressive, but he wasn’t immortal.
    “Keep your eye on him, Brother Orvin,” Jacobson said, nodding toward Aelron. “You too, Brother Simmons.”
    Aelron ran his fingers over the ranger medallion that hung from his neck.
    Seven paces . That’s all he had to survive and they’d never see him again.
    There were plenty of game trails he could use, but he was right back to the same problem. Killing a ranger in single combat was tricky enough. Escaping from a group of them on high alert would be nigh on impossible.
    He let go of the medallion and it fell to his chest. He was surprised they’d let him keep it. It identified him as a ranger, and that was one association he couldn’t lay claim to anymore.
    “I still can’t get used to it,” Orvin said. He shook his head and smiled. “I’ve never seen it not there. It’s always been there, right over that hill!”
    Though he appeared the same age as Aelron, Orvin was a boy. And unlike Aelron, Orvin had never known a world without a yellow dome.
    Aelron looked up at Orvin without lifting his head. “Things change, kid. Domes come down. Friendships end.”
    Orvin lost his smile.
    “That’s enough,” Jacobson said without taking his gaze from the road. “Open your mouth again and I’ll have you bound and gagged. By Arin’s helm.”
    The look on Jacobson’s face made Aelron’s spine tingle. Whatever he’d seen over that hill had made his face lose all color.
    The wagon shuddered as the driver came to a stop, and Aelron took his first look at what Jacobson had seen.
    The dense forest of northern Shandarian Union came to a precipitous end in a perfect line spanning untold miles to the east and west. The line wasn’t only perfect in form. It was perfect in the path of destruction that lay in its wake. It formed a ridge in both directions, as if the land beyond had sunk a dozen or more feet and become devoid of life. Forest and grass gave way to dirt, dwarf trees, and sagebrush. Where the ground around the wagon was rich with dark topsoil, the dirt beyond the ridge was cracked and dry.
    It was as if the gods themselves had drawn a line in the ground and destroyed everything on the other side of it.
    What has that dome been hiding all this time?
    “Brother Orvin,” Jacobson said. “Unhitch the wagon and let the unmoored ride with you.”
    “But the ridge, Captain? Looks like a fifteen foot drop.”
    “You’ve a lot to learn about that new mount of yours, Brother Orvin,” one of the other rangers said. Aelron couldn’t see