undying legion 01 - unbound man Read Free

contempt of it burned, worse even than the pain in his gut. The gods blind you all, you murdering bastards. And if the gods ignored this last request, as they had so many others in his life, there was still breath in him yet. He could still deny his killers this one thing.
    If he had been uninjured, he might have used sorcery to drive the urn deep into the earth; but sorcery was beyond him now. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his knees, his injured arm clasped over his belly to hold himself together. A wave of dizziness swept over him and he swayed, sucking down air as a cry rang out from the forest. Rawlen. Gods, I’m sorry.
    Despair flared again and he fought it, pushing it away, using it to fan his rage. He straightened, raising himself to his full kneeling height; then, with a great, gasping breath, he hurled the urn into the trees before him. The force of his throw pitched him forward, sending him face-first into the rough clearing floor. He grunted at the impact, dirt filling his senses as the last of his strength left him.
    He drifted, his thoughts breaking apart and reforming like clouds. He was badly hurt, he knew that. My arm. No, not my arm. My gut. Perhaps Cal could still save him if she came soon. But no, they had killed her already. And they had killed Rawlen, too; and now, at last, they had returned for him. He could hear them arguing somewhere nearby, but the words were muffled, indistinct, as though both they and he were underwater.
    “This one’s still alive!” The voice was right next to him. Something pushed into his side and turned him over. Strange. That was where he had been stabbed, but there didn’t seem to be much pain any more.
    Hands groped beneath his jerkin. A face drew near, and he felt himself being shaken. “Listen to me. Listen!”
    Derrek tried to focus, but the face swam before him.
    “We know you had an urn. Tell me where it is, and I’ll ease your passing.”
    An immense satisfaction flooded through him. They were seeking the urn after all, and he had kept it from them! He wanted to smile, to laugh, but it seemed his lips had forgotten how. He gathered up saliva to spit in the face above him, but succeeded only in dribbling. Blood washed through his mouth, metallic and bitter.
    The face disappeared, and Derrek heard the man move past the top of his head to where his arm lay outstretched. A moment later he felt the arm shift slightly and heard the crunch of breaking bones. My hand? No, probably my wrist. There was no pain at all now. Dying didn’t seem so bad after all.
    The face returned. “I will ask only once more. Where is the urn?”
    Derrek looked sideways, toward where he thought Cal had fallen. He didn’t feel so bad about the others now that he knew what dying was like. Maybe they had been allowed to wait for him, and the Gatherer would take all three of them together. He hoped so.
    The argument began again, the voices distant, the words blurring and overlapping. The breeze caressed his face, whispering in his ears and sending a leaf skittering past his cheek. Sipping the mild night air, Derrek closed his eyes and waited to meet the god.
    The boot stomped down and crushed his throat.

Part 1:
The Falling Pebble

Chapter 1
You are a child of a fallen people.
You carry a worm within you.
It coils ever tighter around your heart.
In the end it will devour you.
— Sarean birth chant
    The argument was in full swing when the courier from the Three Rivers Trading Company stopped by Arandras’s shop to drop off the parcel of letters.
    So intent was the city official on his harangue that he failed to notice the courier, putting Arandras in the awkward position of trying to acknowledge the new arrival without seeming to divert his attention from the other man. A quirked eyebrow and a flick of the fingers were not enough to convey that the courier should simply leave the bundled letters and go, and when Arandras attempted to clarify the message with a shooting glance,