Free The Pegasus's Lament by Martin Hengst

that she had harvested from each of the rows she had carved into her own flesh. In the center, between the dagger and the vials, lay the bloodstone, her newest treasure.
    She frowned, the downturned corners of her mouth drawing her brow into a scowl. The blood called out to her. It wanted to be used. It wanted to be put to its purpose. Lifting one of the vials from the darkness, she cradled it in reverent hands. Soon, she promised. Soon you will fulfill your purpose and help me fulfill mine.
    The night she had acquired the bloodstone, she had followed it all over the city, hoping that it would lead her to Nerillia. The endeavor had been fruitless. All she had ended up with at the end of the night was a pair of bloodshot eyes and dark circles under them. She'd fallen into bed in the morning, only to be woken by Faxon's incessant demands a short while later.
    His constant intrusion on everything she did almost made her think that he knew she was trying to get out from under his thumb. Faxon always seemed to be watching her, asking her about her day, offering to help her with her studies. It was enough to drive her crazy.
    In truth, she had all but abandoned her studies. All she needed to know, she was certain Nerillia could teach her, if Tionne could only find her. Perhaps tonight was the night. She lifted the bloodstone and a vial of blood from the bottom of the chest. Pulling the stopper with her teeth, she upended the vial over the stone, watching with curious fascination as it drank in every drop.
    She clutched the stone in her palm, feeling its gentle pull.
     

 
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    Though the sun had inched its way into the sky, the morning fog hadn't yet burned off. Low hanging clouds and thick fog wrapped Dragonfell in a shroud that gave the capital city a soft, ethereal glow and deadened even the loudest sounds.
    Loud sounds weren't a problem for Tiadaria, Wynn, and Faxon. They stood in a loose knot, at the edge of the cobblestone path, looking at the tomb where the Captain had been laid to rest. A rest that had been disturbed in the worst way imaginable. The three of them stood and stared in silence, the daily sounds of city life muted and far off, as if the city itself were honoring their vigil.
    Tiadaria was cold, though the morning was mild. The chill went deep into her bones and had nothing to do with the weather. It was a cold dread that seemed to permeate every fiber of her being. An ache of loss so profound that she didn't know if she'd ever recover. Not completely.
    She felt Wynn's hand brush hers and she grabbed it, clinging to him like a drowning man would clutch a lifeline. From the corner of her eye, she saw him wince and forced herself to relax her grip. The animosity between them had faded, or at the very least had been suspended, since Wynn had seen her after her meeting with the King.
    Tia glanced at Faxon. The change in him made her heart ache. His lips were pressed together in a firm white line, and there were deep, dark hollows under his eyes. His hair, which had been chestnut brown when she'd met him, was turning a distinct grey over the temples. He looked tired. Almost as tired as she felt.
    “ This isn't accomplishing anything,” Faxon said, scrubbing his face with both hands. “I don't know what else we can do.”
    “ You did your best. No one could sort through this mess.” Tia waved her free hand, indicating not only the shattered marble, but the tumultuous eddies of the Quintessential Sphere that surrounded them.
    Whoever had stolen the Captain's body had bombarded the area with so much obscuring magic that the space around the tomb was warped beyond recognition in the ethereal realm. Faxon had spent almost an hour trying to unravel the mysteries inherent in the disturbance and had found nothing. Tia couldn't even bear to look at it. The twisted essence of the ethereal realm made her head hurt. She'd made a halfhearted attempt to see what she could glean from the