Soulbinder (Book 3) Read Free

both hands to steady himself.
    The second man drew his knife, then caught sight of Kendril’s pistol in the snow. He rushed off to the side, and reached out a hand for the gun.
    With a muffled curse, Kendril shoved Maklavir aside and drew his sword. He nearly lost his footing on the icy ground.
    The diplomat slid into the wooden railing, than fell backwards into the snow.
    The man with the club had finally steadied himself, but not before Kendril leapt at him.
    The Ghostwalker’s sword shone fiercely in the morning sun before it cleaved through the wooden club and into the man’s arm.
    The ruffian screamed shrilly as he tripped back into the snow. Blood erupted from his slashed limb.
    Kendril spun around, just in time to see the second man with the knife pick his gun up out of the snow. He launched the short sword in his hand through the air towards the man.
    Admittedly, it wasn’t a very tactically sound maneuver. Swords were in general not designed to be aerodynamic, and throwing one was generally a sign of extreme desperation.
    Then again, this situation struck Kendril as being about as desperate as they came.
    Fortunately, the blade proved better at the task than Kendril had assumed.
    The second man was just straightening when the short sword hit him squarely in the middle of the chest. The impact of the heavy steel punched the air out of his lungs, and with a rather muffled grunt he toppled back into the snow.
    Still smiling from the unexpected success of his flying sword trick, Kendril turned back around.
    The smile vanished from his face.
    The third man was standing just a few feet away. He had thrown off his coat, revealing a chest that bristled with more muscles than Kendril could remember seeing in a long time. His bald head and the gold earring dangling from his left ear only contributed to the overall menacing demeanor.
    Those, and the five-foot long double-handed sword that he held as lightly as a feather in his hands.
    The woman with the infant screamed, dashing through the snow towards the safety of the other side of the street. The men drinking whiskey on the porch across the street quickly put down their bottles, and crowded along the edge of the railing to see what was happening.
    The card-player whose arm Kendril had slashed struggled to his feet with a curse, cradling his injured limb. “Talvik,” he shouted, “kill him!”
    The large man smiled. Several of his teeth were missing. His hands tightened on the hilt of the massive sword. He took a half step forward.
    Kendril moved back. His eyes never left the man’s face.
    Maklavir emerged from the snow, shaking the white flakes off his arms. His eyes widened as he saw the large man with the massive sword. He fumbled for the hilt of his own weapon. “Kendril—”
    “ Shut up ,” the Ghostwalker hissed, waving one of his hands back without taking his eyes from Talvik’s face. On his belt his second sword and loaded pistol dangled with tantalizing nearness, but Kendril knew that to reach for them would be death. His adversary was far too close, and the brief half-second it would take to draw a weapon would be just enough time for the double-handed sword to take his head off.
    “Kill him!” the man with the injured arm screamed again.
    Talvik grinned again, his gold earring glittering in the cold sunlight.
    The next moment the two-handed sword sang through the air, straight at Kendril’s head.
     

Chapter 2
     
    Kendril threw himself to the side.
    He rolled through the snow and stumbled as quickly as he could to his feet again.
    The two-handed sword cleaved through the space where he had been a moment before. The steel blade gouged off a piece of the nearby wooden railing as it sailed by.
    Maklavir gave a yelp and leapt back. He slipped on the ice but keeping his footing.
    Kendril reached for the pistol at his belt as he rose.
    Talvik was too fast.
    The towering man sprung forward, roaring in anger. He brought the massive sword down at