Free City of Scars (The Skullborn Trilogy, Book 1) by Steven Montano

to.”
    Crinn’s mercenaries gathered below.  The new stock of slaves had arrived, and his black-clad soldiers led the shackled prisoners through the mass of tents and siege weapons around the base of the tower.  A few of the troops eyed the women and young girls hungrily, but they wouldn’t touch the prisoners until Crinn inspected them first.
    Is everything else in place?   Jaendral’s mental voice rasped.  Kala is…concerned…
    Crinn finally turned and faced the hideous messenger.  Jaendral was barely taller than Crinn and only half as wide.  He could crush the Arkan with his iron fists if he wanted to, but he had to endure this repugnant creature to keep the Cabal’s support.  Crinn had been given an important role in their most delicate operation, so naturally the others fretted every detail, and they’d continue to do so right up until the point when they finally breached the Black Tower.
    “We’re all concerned,” Crinn said slowly.  “That’s why I’ve spared no expense ensuring the job is done right.  You tell Kala all will go as planned.  Ghul’s forces are nearly ready, and we’ll have the Dream Witch within a few days.  That’s my job, and I’ll make sure it’s done.”   He turned away.  “The rest is up to her.”
    Crinn felt Jaendral’s unblinking eyes on his back.  The Arkan possessed strange abilities, like the power to read people’s thoughts and twist and damage their minds.  Such abilities didn’t work on Crinn anymore. 
    You’d best have her soon , Jaendral warned.  Much is at stake, Mezias Crinn.  We must have the Skullborn, or else Chul Gaerog will remain forever sealed.  If that happens, what meat is left on your body will be mine for the taking.  In a swirl of vapors Jaendral was gone. 
    Crinn was tired of Jaendral’s threats, which of course were really Kala’s threats.  She wouldn’t let Crinn forget he was the newest member of the Cabal, and that infuriated him, for without him they never would have even found out about Ijanna’s existence in the first place.  The Dream Witch was the missing piece of the puzzle – the Cabal needed her to retrieve their prize from Chul Gaerog.
    He stepped back to the edge of the tower.  Crinn reached out and took hold of a dead woman’s foot.  Her black hair was matted with the paste of decay, and her face was nearly skeletal with rot.  He pulled on her leg and forced her torso further down the spike.  The stink of her corpse stirred as the blade drove deeper into her crumbling frame.  Crinn remembered how she’d begged, how she’d screamed for her husband to save her, and he laughed.
    He was no one’s puppet.  He’d laid his plans carefully.  There had been mistakes, certainly.  Vellexa would be punished for her laxity, and he had to find a way to deal with both the Jlantrians and the Phage.  But for the time being he had to be patient.  He’d come too far to get careless now. 
    Crinn made his way down to the ground level to inspect the new batch of slaves.  He needed to select a companion for the cold night ahead. 
     

 
     
     
     
    Six
     
     
    When he was young, all Azander Dane ever wanted was to grow up to be someone his father could be proud of.  It didn’t matter that he’d hardly even known his father, because the thought that Rarrick Dane watched his son from the Shadowlands only fueled Azander’s drive to be the best soldier he could. 
    Though he hadn’t known it at the time, growing up in Ral Tanneth had made him ignorant as to how bad things were in the rest of the Empire.  Jlantria’s blue and white flag always flew high in the capital, held aloft by the faith of the city’s people and the grace and power of their ruler.  Dane, like any good Jlantrian, believed all of the news handed down by The Thirteen, and until he joined the Army he’d never actually ventured further from the capital city than its surrounding farmlands.  When the White Dragon Army marched down the