The City of Towers: The Dreaming Dark - Book I Read Free Page A

gray woolen cloak shielded him from the rain, and he waved a wooden cudgel in their general direction.
    “Ho there, travelers!” the man called, his voice a gravelly rasp.
    Daine stepped to the front of the group, signaling the others to halt.
    “Morgalan’s the name. By your dress, I take you to be strangers in our lovely land. Mourners, are you?”
    “Mourners?” asked Daine.
    “Refuse from what’s left of Cyre. They’re calling it the Mournland now, on account of there being nothing for you lot to do but mourn for what you lost.”
    “If you’ve got a point, make it quick.” Daine’s hand went to his sword, but he held his temper in check. This was far from the first time they’d been harassed, and Daine smelled a trap.
    “I have a bit of a nose for the energies of the arcane, and I can see that there’s more to the young lady’s backpack than meets the eye. I’ll be taking that, along with any coin you might have on you.”
    “Four to one, by my count. Not odds in your favor.” Daine scratched the back of his neck, using the opportunity to make a few swift gestures to his companions with the tips of his fingers.
    “Things are rarely what they seem.” A crossbow bolt flew from the trees and struck the ground near Daine’s feet.
    “True,” Daine said, but he was already in motion, charging at the highwayman, drawing his sword and dagger as he ran.
    From the corner of his eye, Daine saw Pierce raise his enormous longbow and send two blue-feathered arrows back along the path of the crossbow bolt. There was a cry from the woods and the sound of a man falling from the trees.
    Two men and a woman, all three dressed in tattered leathers and armed with hatchets, burst out of the woods to Daine’s left. He slowed his charge long enough to be sure the others had them.
    Lei was waiting for them. She hurled a small stone in their direction. It burst with a blinding flare of golden radiance. As the bandits threw up their hands to shield their eyes, Pierce was already loosing more arrows. Within seconds, all three lay stretched out on the ground.
    Morgalan met Daine’s charge head-on. With a furious cry and a blow of his cudgel, he knocked Daine’s blade from hishand. But the sword was the lesser threat. Daine’s dagger was Cannith-forged from adamantine and could slice through steel with ease. Daine ducked beneath the bandit’s next blow, and with one swift stroke he cut the cudgel in two, leaving Morgalan with a bare stump of wood.
    Dropping the ruined remnant of his club and stepping back, the bandit made an intricate gesture with his left hand while muttering words in a language Daine had never heard. Daine felt the touch of enchantment, and for a moment it was difficult to focus.
    Morgalan … Morgalan … why were they fighting, after all? Surely this was a misunderstanding. His friend Morgalan needed his help, needed his assistance against these three brutes …
    Daine had dealt with sorcerers before, and Saerath had occasionally tried a charm when he’d been ordered to dig latrines. Gritting his teeth, Daine shook his way free of the intrusive thoughts and drove his dagger into the shoulder of the bandit.
    Morgalan gasped and the mystical pressure faded. Daine grabbed the man by his neck with his free hand, yanked the dagger free, and threw Morgalan into the mud. He leaned down, his foot on the bandit’s neck and his blade at his throat.
    “Listen to me, Brelander,” he growled. “I’ve been fighting your kind for six years. Every instinct I’ve got says I should slit your throat and leave you bleeding in the dirt.” He struck the pale man across the face with the pommel of his dagger, slamming his face into the mud. “But the war’s over, and I am a stranger in your land. Don’t give me a reason to start fighting again.”
    Daine stood up, deliberately cutting Morgalan’s purse from his belt. He tossed the leather pouch to Lei and picked up his fallen sword. Across the way, Jode was