Free Chains of a Dark Goddess by David Alastair Hayden Page B

Ancient Eirsendan words of power and cast the spell of obscuring mists . His voice trembled. His heart raced. He had practiced the spell with minimal success. Tendrils of fog sprouted from the ground like rapidly growing vines then gathered into rising pools.
    “Get down!” Breskaro shouted.
    The Rrakans fell to the ground and three crossbow bolts whizzed over them. Breskaro had hesitated, distracted for a moment by a lurch in the spell’s energies. The fourth bolt plunged into his stomach. He doubled over and staggered backward, grasping the bolt. His qavra heart pulsed faster. And faster. The cloud of mist sprang up all around him, shrouding the Rrakans, Nightsoul, and Esha.
    He jerked the bolt free. Being dead didn’t lessen pain. It felt as bad as any wound he could remember, save the one that had killed him. He’d died so fast that he had no memories of how it felt.
    He whispered to Larekal, “Lead the men downhill. I’ll deal with the guards.”
    “You okay?” Larekal asked.
    “Just go.”
    Breskaro drew his sword and charged into the trees, navigating the mist with ease. Not all of his time in the Shadowland was wasted. His skills were better than ever and mists were nothing to him. He could’ve managed them even without his now-heightened senses. The Resbani guard heard Breskaro coming, threw down his crossbow, and drew his sword. But too late. Breskaro buried his saber in the man’s gut. The second guard rushed in as the first fell. A swift sword thrust, an elbow to the jaw, and a slash put him down.
    As Breskaro left the stand of trees, the fog dissipated, all at once, as if it had never been there. Spotting Breskaro, both guards from the thicket of shrubs loosed crossbow bolts. Breskaro twisted. The first bolt missed entirely. The second grazed his left shoulder. Breskaro charged them. One guard drew his sword and met him while the other ran back uphill toward the guardhouse. 
    The guard who engaged him fought defensively, desperately trying to counter Breskaro’s unnatural speed and strength. In less than a minute, Breskaro disarmed then disemboweled him.
    Breskaro raced uphill. The fourth guard was way ahead, rounding the corner of the house, aiming for the stables behind it. He stopped. A spear tip punched out through his back, glistening silver and crimson in the moonlight. He groaned and stumbled backward. A small figure emerged from the shadows and released hold of the spear. The pierced man fell.

Chapter 14

    Moments later Breskaro faced the small figure.
    “Got him, my lord,” Esha said, with pride in her voice and a glint of malice in her eyes.
    The guard was gasping in his death throes. Frowning, Breskaro removed the spear and stabbed it into the man’s throat, finishing him. 
    “Whenever you have the time, finish your enemies. It’s the right thing to do.”
    She shrugged her shoulders.
    “I told you to stay with Nightsoul.”
    She knelt and took a sling from the man’s belt along with a pouch filled with lead bullets. “They stole my sling. My grandfather made this for me. Taught me to use it, too.”
    “That cheap sling isn’t worth dying for.”
    “It is to me . And it’s the finest you’ll ever see and don’t tell me otherwise.”
    “Next time do as I say.”
    “Yes, my lord. I promise.”
    “In that case, you will be the one to warn the Rrakan families and tell them to move on and find new homes.”
    “No — I mean, I’ll do it if you insist, but it ain’t the right job for me. They’re not my people and I’m young. Why would they trust me? Besides, I want to go wherever you go.”
    “You’d be a liability.”
    Esha dropped a lead stone into the sling, whirled it around her head, and released. The stone streaked through the night and clanked on the helmet of the last guard Breskaro had killed. Forty paces away with only moonlight to guide her aim.
    Breskaro stared at her, glanced at the helmet, then looked back to her.
    “From how far away could you have done