Night Winds Read Free Page A

from her shoulders, the girl writhed in the grasp of two thugs. A third tough warned by the rush of the barbarian's boots, angrily spun to face him, sword streaking for the youth's belly.
    Dragar laughed and flung the lighter blade aside with a powerful blow of his sword. Scarcely seeming to pause in his attack, he gashed his assailant's arm with an upward swing, and as the other's blade faltered, he split the thug's skull. One of the two who held the girl lunged forward, but Dragar sidestepped his rush, and with a sudden thrust sent his sword ripping into the man's chest. The remaining assailant shoved the girl against the barbarian's legs, whirled, and fled down the alley.
    Ignoring the fugitive, Dragar helped the stunned girl to her feet. Terror yet twisted her face, as she distractedly arranged the torn bodice of her silken gown. Livid scratches streaked the pale skin of her breasts, and a bruise was swelling out her lip. Dragar caught up her fallen cloak and draped it over her shoulders.
    "Thank you," she breathed in a shaky whisper, speaking at last.
    "My pleasure," he rumbled. "Killing rats is good exercise. Are you all right, though?"
    She nodded, then clutched his arm for support.
    "The hell you are! There's a tavern close by, girl. Come--I've silver enough for a brandy to put the fire back in your heart."
    She looked as if she might refuse, were her knees steadier. In a daze, the girl let him half-carry her into the Inn of the Blue Window. There he led her to an unoccupied booth and called for brandy.
    "What's your name?" he asked, after she had tasted the heady liquor.
    "Dessylyn."
    He framed her name with silent lips to feel its sound. "I'm called Dragar," he told her. "My home lies among the mountains far south of here, though it's been a few years since last I hunted with my clansmen. Wanderlust drew me away, and since then I've followed this banner or another's--sometimes just the shadow of my own flapping cloak. Then, after hearing tales enough to dull my ears, I decided to see for myself if Carsultyal is the wonder men boast her to be. You a stranger here as well?"
    She shook her head. When the color returned to her cheeks, her face seemed less aloof.
    "Thought you might be. Else you'd know better than to wander the streets of Carsultyal after nightfall. Must be something important for you to take the risk."
    The lift of her shoulders was casual, though her face remained guarded. "No errand... but it was important to me."
    Dragar's look was questioning.
    "I wanted to... oh, just to be alone, to get away for a while. Lose myself, maybe--I don't know. I didn't think anyone would dare touch me if they knew who I was."
    "Your fame must be held somewhat less in awe among these gutter rats than you imagined,'' offered Dragar wryly.
    "All men fear the name of Kane!" Dessylyn shot back bitterly.
    "Kane!" The name exploded from his lips in amazement. What had this girl to do...? But Dragar looked again at her sophisticated beauty, her luxurious attire, and understanding dawned. Angrily he became aware that the tavern uproar had become subdued on the echo of his outburst. Several faces had turned to him, their expressions uneasy, calculating.
    The barbarian clapped a hand to his swordhilt. "Here's a man who doesn't fear a name!" he announced. "I've heard something of Carsultyal's most dreaded sorcerer, but his name means less than a fart to me! There's steel in this sword that can slice through the best your world-famed master smiths can forge, and it thrives on the gore of magicians. I call the blade Wizard's Bare, and there are souls in Hell who will swear that its naming is no boast!"
    Dessylyn stared at him in sudden fascination.
    And what came after, Dessylyn?
    I... I'm not sure... My mind--I was in a state of shock, I suppose. I remember holding his head for what seemed like forever. And then I remember sponging off the blood with water from the wooden lavabo, and the water was so cold and so red, so red. I must