Thy Father's Shadow (Book 4.5) Read Free Page B

struggling for breath from inside the muscled arms that had hers pinned to her sides, “… is just down the road!”
    “Don’t want no whore,” the beast of a dark elf who was gripping her said. He was bigger than any of the others in the establishment, Terian realized as the big longshoreman dragged Rosalla from behind the bar. Most of the faces in the place were down, focused intently on their drinks, and an air of discomfort was palpable from the regular patrons. There was suddenly a wide, open space in front of the bar as the crowd dispersed to give them wide berth.
    “Excuse me,” Terian said, cutting across the near silence, and punctuating it by smacking the bottom of his glass on his table, drawing the startled attention of everyone at the bar. “I need another ale.”
    The beast who had Rosalla in his grasp wore an expression even uglier than his actual face. “She’ll be with you in a few minutes.” His smile grew wide and malicious; Terian noticed there were teeth missing from beneath the navy lips. “Maybe. If she can walk afterward.”
    “It’d take more than you’ve got to put me bowlegged,” Rosalla said and brought her head back with a smash into the big dark elf’s nose that caused him to cry out and drop her. She dropped and spun, kicking him solidly in the groin before disappearing behind the bar.
    “I like her attitude,” Terian said, watching the big dark elf hit his knees. Terian waved his hand at him once in a leisurely fashion, as if he were simply fluttering his fingers. The big dark elf was too busy clutching at his groin and took no notice of it.
    Malpravus, on the other hand, saw it and broke into a broad grin. “Dear boy, if one didn’t know better, one might mistake your actions for a virtue of some sort.”
    “That would be unwise,” Terian said shortly, staring at the empty glass again, almost forlornly. “I just take delight in the misery of others, that’s all.”
    “Is that it?” Malpravus’s smooth voice belied his amusement, and he cast a little look over his shoulder as Rosalla popped up from behind the bar with a crossbow in hand. She froze, though, as she saw her attacker on his knees, groaning and gasping quietly for air. The subtle, sucking noise the big longshoreman was making had an almost tragic, desperate quality to Terian’s ears.
    “Hmm. The Lockjaw plague spell?” Malpravus asked, regarding the scene with a raised eyebrow. “Swells the tongue? Makes it difficult to breathe, yes?”
    “It’s one of my favorites,” Terian said, watching the longshoreman, a dark elf big enough to stand favorably against Cyrus Davidon—that giant human—clutching at his throat, unable to move from the floor. “The only downside is that it won’t kill him. He won’t realize that for a few more minutes yet, though.” A seasoned fighter would know to just keep going; but a dumb longshoreman will flop about like a gutted fish until it wears off. He clinked the glass idly against the table again, and it sat at a terrible tilt on the uneven planks. “Still, I do so love the misery, especially for this sort.” He glanced down at the flailing man once more and felt a thin, unsatisfied smile break across his lips.
    Rosalla stormed out from behind the bar, her white, frizzed hair flaring as she wheeled her head around until it settled on him. The rest of the Brutal Hole’s patrons were clearing now, standing and leaving, shuffling toward the door. It was no stampede, but close, the thudding of leather boots against the wood planks filling the entire bar. “You!” she called as she closed the distance between them. “You did that?” She gestured to the blue-skinned man on the floorboards, clutching at his knees as if he could curl up like a baby.
    “I did that,” Terian admitted lightly, as though he were confessing to swatting a fly and with all the concern one might have for doing such a thing. “I could use another ale, by the way, if you’re looking for a