Free A Threat of Shadows by JA Andrews Page A

a decent modern translation, but in the ancient language, it read: damned soul. “Turtle’s back” should roughly translate to: a place of sanctuary. The word “cool” was a complicated rune that indicated: vengeance and justice. That rune also had the sense of turning the entire phrase into a question. The amount of nuance that was drawn into the runes was impressive. After piecing it together, Alaric decided that what the cluster really said was, Shall the soul that has been damned seek vengeance or discover a place of sanctuary?
    Alaric tried hard to hide the smile that kept creeping onto his face. First of all, the writing wasn’t part of the map. It was just Kordan’s musings. Secondly, almost no one besides a Keeper would be able to read the ancient runes. Barely anyone in Queensland read even modern runes. Gustav must be well educated to be able to translate the modern runes he had, but he would have them chasing after nonsense. Alaric marveled at the complexity of the writing.
    Douglon reached over for the map, and Alaric forced himself to hand it back. He’d been so focused on that one set of runes, he’d barely looked at the map itself.
    “So you ended up with the map,” Alaric said, watching Douglon roll it up and tuck it into his pocket. “Did you give Patlon the rest of the treasure?”
    Douglon looking uncomfortable. “Patlon thought we should take all the wizardy things home before following the map. But since the stone sounded more valuable than everything else we’d found, I wanted to go get the treasure.”
    Douglon’s voice trailed off. He shook his head and continued in an offhanded way. “In the end, we split up. He took all the stuff we had found, and I took the map.”
    Alaric looked at the dwarf in disbelief. “He agreed to that?”
    Douglon shifted. “‘Agreed’ might be the wrong word for it.”
    “Smoke!” Gustav shouted from a turn in the road ahead.
    A dark plume of smoke was visible over the hill to their left, roiling up into the blue sky.
    Ayda and Douglon began to run. Ayda outpaced him quickly, racing down the road.
    “Kordan’s Blight?” asked Alaric. The look on Brandson’s face as he urged the slow carthorse forward was his answer.
    “Take Beast,” Alaric said tossing Brandson the reins. The blacksmith leapt into the saddle and galloped toward the smoke. Alaric climbed onto the lumbering cart and followed.
    Once the carthorse plodded around the turn, the entire town was visible. A crowd was gathered before the nearest building, milling around under the sign with an anvil standing untouched at the road. The acrid smell of smoke cut through the air, and as Alaric drew the carthorse closer, he could feel the lingering heat from the fire. Nothing was still burning. What had been the smithy was now a smoldering pile of charred wood.
    Brandson sat on Beast, staring at what was left of his home. There was nothing to be done.

Chapter 10
    Ayda walked up to Brandson and put her arm around his shoulder. Gustav ran through the crowd, grabbing leftover buckets and throwing water toward the already doused building.
    “It’s a little late for him to decide to do something useful,” Douglon said to Ayda.
    Gustav tossed a large bucket full of water that splashed into a puddle near the front of the structure, not remotely close to any of the parts that were still smoking.
    “Well, not useful exactly,” Douglon said.
    Gustav glared at the two of them. Throwing the bucket down, he stalked away.
    “I’m sorry, son,” a man said to Brandson. “‘Twas burning good by the time anyone saw it. ‘Twas naught to do but keep th’ other buildings safe.”
    Brandson slid down from Beast and stood staring at the husk of his home. The roof was gone, and the walls were sagging. Behind the smithy, the remains of Brandson’s living quarters let out swirls of smoke. The smith began to walk toward them, his arm raised against the heat, but he couldn’t even reach what was left of the