The Path of Anger Read Free

surface.
    ‘You’re seeking Eraëd—’
    ‘We’re seeking Eraëd,’ agreed Viola.
    ‘And you think I have it,’ said Dun with a wry smile.
    ‘No.’
    She shook her head, lifting one of her locks with a gloved hand. Then she took hold of the jug and started to fill the tankards the serving girl had left them. The red wine poured into the ochre tankards like blood upon the ground. Dun ran his hand through his beard, his eyes vague.
    ‘But you know where you hid it—’
    ‘And what if I were lying that evening; boasting to make myself seem more important?’ suggested Dun, scratching his chin.
    ‘I don’t think so,’ Viola replied.
    ‘You don’t know that.’
    ‘I am certain of it. I was told you spoke of the Eastern territories, beyond the Vershan mountains. That’s where you hid it, didn’t you?’
    ‘Even admitting I ever had Eraëd in my possession, why would it be of interest to the Republic?’
    ‘The sword served the Imperial family for years, and before that, the royal dynasties of the Caglieri, the Perthuis, the Majoranes . . . I can go back even further if you like.’
    ‘I’ve never been fond of history lessons.’
    ‘I didn’t think so.’
    Dun looked away, not sure what to make of her.
    ‘That sword represents everything your Republic hates,’ he said, meeting Viola’s eyes once more.
    ‘That sword is reputed to be magical. It has been wielded by many heroes . . . it has even fought dragons. It’s part of the history of this world, regardless of whether an Empire or a Republic currently determines its destiny.’
    Dun’s eyes narrowed and his lips began to twitch. He leaned back and gave a thunderous roar of laughter which drew attention from the neighbouring tables. A plump woman sitting on the lap of an old merchant who looked as fragile as a dry twig, visibly pricked up her ears. But one baleful gaze from the Nâaga quickly discouraged her from eavesdropping.
    ‘Heroes?’ Dun guffawed. ‘Dragons? Listen to yourself. There’s nothing easier than being a hero. Or slaying dragons. Do you know what a dragon is? Have you ever come across one?’
    Viola hesitated before shaking her head, looking ill at ease. The old soldier’s sneering tone did not sit well with her. But she would have to put up with it. She’d been forewarned, after all.
    ‘They’re just lizards,’ Dun continued. ‘Big stupid lizards like the ones your guard dog here venerates.’
    He tilted his head towards Rogant.
    ‘Now, let me guess. You and your friend here are going to ask me to accompany you to the Eastern territories in search of Eraëd. And what dangers shall we face along the way?’ His tone wavered between mockery and contempt. ‘Fighting monsters no one has ever heard of, saving besieged castles, slaying dragons? Ha! You’re young. And you remind me of someone else I knew who was always dreaming, always believing in great deeds, always imagining a destiny . That’s exactly what you’ve got with your . . . Republic. The world belongs to you, eh? You have nothing to fear, you can just forge ahead. But in the end you know nothing about the world that surrounds you . . . and when reality comes rushing in—’
    He clapped his hands suddenly and gritted his teeth.
    ‘It will crush you like a bug. You believe all the legends and waste your energy trying to write your own. You think you can succeed at anything, at the dawn of your life, because you possess the truth . Well, here’s some truth for you.’
    With a wave of his hand, he beckoned Viola to draw closer. And leaning forward, he whispered:
    ‘You don’t get to choose. No, no. You’re not that important. You’ve convinced yourself that your destiny belongs to you, that you just have to create the right opportunities. Well, know this: men’s destiny has never been anything but the murmur of the gods.’
    Keeping his gaze locked on Viola’s he straightened up, nodding.
    ‘Nothing but a murmur . . . The gods sealed our fates when they