The Conqueror's Shadow Read Free

stare at than the blackened eye sockets of the helm. Things like that axe, and the figures engraved upon it, figures that seemed almost to move on their own, independent from the dancing torch-light …
    â€œDo you know who I am, Tyannon?”
    â€œYes.” Her voice never rose above a half-drawn breath. “You’re Corvis Rebaine.”
    The iron-banded skull tilted in acknowledgment. “That frightens you.” It was not a question.
    â€œM-my lord,” Tyannon told him, “you frighten people much greater than I.” For some reason, that realization seemed to relax her. Beside her, Jassion cried out softly; she carefully steered him behind her, putting herself between her brother and the monster before her.
    â€œDo I?” For a moment, the man who’d conquered half of Imphallion fell silent. Tyannon’s muscles twinged in protest, so rigidly did she hold herself.
    A black-and-bone gauntlet gestured abruptly; despite herself, the young woman jumped, a tiny yelp escaping her lips. But Rebaine merely pointed at the arm she held behind her back, fist clenched with a death grip on Jassion’s wrist. “You do your family credit, Tyannon. But your brother is safe with me. As are you.”
    Tyannon’s countenance shifted abruptly, a surge of anger seeming to drown her fears. “Are we?” she asked, her voice gone bitter, her stammer gone. She waved, her gesture indicating not merely the people present in the room, but the entire city suffering beyond the thick stone walls. “You’ll forgive me, my lord, if I have some difficulty taking you at your word.”
    Whatever response the warlord intended was aborted by a sudden scuffling within the pit, followed quickly by a raised voice. “My lord! The diggers have found something.”
    Rebaine forgot everyone else in the room. He stepped to the rim of the hole, glancing down, past the thick earth, past the mass of nobles and Guildsmen he’d pressed into service as excavators. He peered into the thin, stone-walled hallway they’d uncovered, part of a small complex of rooms buried beneath the Hall of Meeting since before the birth of the city itself.
    â€œIt’s really here.” It was barely a whisper, inaudible to anyone else.
    Or at least it should have been.
    /Did you doubt that it would be?/
The voice, as always, was mocking, sarcastic, even when its words were not.
    Ignoring the speaker, Rebaine leapt down into the pit, a cloud of dirt billowing upward at the impact. The diggers drew back fearfully-many quivered visibly at his mere presence, including one man Rebaine recognized as the Baron of Braetlyn.
    I wonder
, Rebaine thought to himself in passing,
where the young woman gets her spark from. I can’t imagine she learned from watching any of
these
people
.
    At the bottom of the pit loomed another, smaller hole, leading into the ancient stone tunnel that was Rebaine’s objective. An inky blackness filled the corridor, but Rebaine had never been frightened of the dark.
    He knew what was in it.
    Fingers twitching within heavy gauntlets, his mouth formed words that did not exist in any human tongue. Behind the horrid mask, his eyes began ever so slightly to glow, and the blackness parted before him.
    â€œGet these men out of the pit,” he ordered his guards. “Make certain they have water and food.”
    â€œAt once, my lord. Will you be wanting some of us to …” The soldier swallowed, unable to finish, as he stared nervously into the black.
    â€œNo. I will go in alone. Find Valescienn. Inform him that I expect him to hold off Lorum’s armies should they attack before I’ve returned. Tell him that Davro and his ogres are to fall back from the main walls and surround the Hall of Meeting. They’re our last line of defense. The gnomes and the other soldiers should be able to hold the wall for some time without them.”
    â€œVery good, my lord. Best