Free Blade Of The Vampire King (Book 4) by Lucas Thorn Page A

supposed to mean?”
    “Maybe nothing,” the elf allowed. “But there's a time for waiting, and a time for moving. Time for waiting's over. Your feller's awake now. Get him on his feet and keep up. Or don't. All the same to me right now.”
    Chukshene threw the young couple a rueful look. “You'll get used to it,” he told them, brushing dirt from his robe. “It's just the way she is.”
    The elf didn't slow. She was already out of range of the sickly yellow glow, feeling a sense of comfort as shadows enveloped her.
    A ribbon of irritation vibrated inside her spine like a fiddle's freshly-struck string. But far from feeling musical, it felt uncomfortable. The discomfort slid around her belly.
    “Nysta,” the warlock panted as he caught up. “It's not really very nice to leave friends behind, you know. You might upset them. And they are friends, right?”
    “I don't need them.”
    “You never know,” he said, voice solemn all of a sudden. “We might. You see, I've been thinking. If anything's been living down here in the remains of Urak's Keep, then it's going to be twisted and fucked up. Strong, too. You remember how tough that last one was to fight? That creep with the chains and shit? Well, what if there's something bigger in here?”
    “If it breathes, I can kill it.”
    “Yeah, sure. I won't argue the optimism of that. But isn't it easier to kill monsters like that if there's four of us? That way you don't have to break all your knives. Maybe you'll end up only having to break one. Two at the most. Surely that's a good thing? I mean, you like your knives, don't you? Besides, this was your idea, remember? Joining up with them?”
    “The Jukkala work in Hands. Small teams. Usually threes. Sometimes as many as five. They trained me well, so I've learnt a lot about teamwork, Chukshene.”
    “Then you know what I'm trying to say?”
    With a shake of her head, she ran her fingers through her hair. Snagged a few small knots of cloth. “Learnt I work better alone.”
    Then she stopped as the rear wall of the tunnel showed itself to the dull yellow light of Chukshene's floating orb. Light which illuminated dozens of smaller caves leading into the mountain's solid core.
    Some looked too small to squeeze through.
    One, a short climb above most of the others, vomited a thin trickle of black slime. The same kind of slime which swirled in the pool. The elf shuddered.
    Another amassed old bones in its mouth. Bones which now lay in a forlorn heap. A lone skull with its jaw missing stared back at her with mocking sockets, its unseen spirit no doubt amused by the decision she was now forced to make.
    The elf felt impatience rising in her belly just to think of all her options. There were so many ways the Grey Jackets could have gone. How long would it take to explore all of them?
    Which tunnel would be the best to venture into first?
    And how old would she be when she found the right one?
    Behind her, Melganaderna and Hemlock shuffled closer. Hemlock's breathing was strained, but the low mumble of the young axewoman's voice appeared to have calmed him.
    They didn't look at the elf as they approached. Their gazes, too, were drawn to the many tunnels.
    “Shit,” the warlock said. Nodded toward the couple and waved an arm at the wall. “Which way do you think we should go now?”
    Which was when a volley of screams bounced from the ragged mouth of the nearest cave like a swarm of frightened bats.
    The elf's grin was cruel and she glanced at the three humans with anticipation burning in her eyes. “This one.”
    “Grim's guts, I knew you were going to say that.”
    “Then why ask?”
    “At the time, I didn't know,” he said drily. “But after the screams, I'd hoped you'd do the smart thing and pick another.”
    “Ain't your lucky day, 'lock.”
    “Can we get on with it, then? If we're going to die, I'd rather die before I piss myself.”
    But the elf had already dived into the opening, A Flaw in the Glass spinning