Free Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One by Travis I. Sivart Page A

wasting time on offal such as you. If you have a point, please come to it; otherwise, please expire.” Nomed turned and sauntered towards the pillar that hid his earlier quarry.
    “You would be smart not to turn your back on me, half-breed!” Malvornick growled, as his silk gauntlets became a metallic silvery gold swirl of color, spikes growing from them. “I can destroy you whenever I feel the urge,”
    “Then do so, Malvornick, or go away. I doubt you want to harm your image here in Humbrey though. You may be able to destroy many people, but could you handle the whole righteous Kingdom at once?” Nomed asked, turning and looking at Malvornick with a bland stare.
    “They would destroy you if they knew what you are. Without hesitation, they would end your miserable little existence,” Malvornick said, turned on his heel, and began walking into the lit interior of the ballroom.
    “Perhaps so, Duke, and perhaps one day it will happen, but today is not the day. Your plans would spoil if you moved to take action against me now. Ever wonder how much I know of those plans, Duke?” Nomed asked to the Duke’s back as he left earshot.
    The next morning more than a dozen men, women, and children were found dead in the streets of the capital of Humbrey. They had been violated and torn apart, many found partially eaten by teeth that did not belong to any animal. The authorities could not find any witnesses or survivors. One death they did not ever discover was in the rooms of Duke Malvornick. One of his entourage was found dead of natural causes, odd for a creature that could not die in a natural way. The only mark was a smiley face traced on its left buttock with a grease pencil, which was left planted in the creature’s arse.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 5: Tarnish
     
    “All rivers lead to the ocean, and then you are at Tarra’s tender mercies.”
    Hydentia, High Priestess of Tarra
     
     
    5854 – Thon – Jordar – Lasin
     
    The group had traveled for three nights, but woke early on Rogen’s command and finished their journey by noon of the last day. The tops of the buildings of Tarnish came into view as they moved alongside the river that forced its way north into the desert. The river was shallow, brackish, and didn’t move much, not allowing for much travel on its waters except by flat bottom rafts, and even those often had to dig their way out of sand bars that appeared overnight. The day was cloudless and the sun beat down on the sands, which now had scattered scrub bushes and sparse grasses dotting the landscape. Herds of goats and their shepherds could be seen and smelled, gathered in small groups under the shade of the few trees and hillsides. Calleus finished his waterskin once he saw the town, and exhaustion crept into everyone’s movements except for Rogen’s. Taktak leaned heavily on his staff, and Sybia had pulled the hood over her dingy white robe over her head to give her some shade.
    “Tarnish was a good idea that never made it.” Rogen said with a wry grin, continuing with his history lesson of the seaport, pointing things out to Cite as he explained them. “It had been built to be a glorious seaport. They hoped for it to be a grand gateway to the desert lands. The master merchants planned to irrigate and renew the whole area into an oasis that spanned many kilometers. They dug the river out to help with crops, farming, and livestock. The buildings were works of art, though it is hard to see it now. They display arches and domed roofs that are capped in brass and copper that, at one time, had been polished to a high shine. Now, they are how the city gained its namesake, a monument to broken men who gave up on an impossible dream. At one time, the city could be seen in the sun from miles away as it glittered and gleamed in the distance. A large part of this was done using the slave labor supplied over two hundred years ago by Rogen the Plague, one of my predecessors. It was a perfect