Resurgent Shadows (Successive Harmony Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Kevin L. Nielsen
I do be needing to return to me Dragonlord soon and the journey is long. Let’s be getting this done here and now.”
“I agree. The siege at Raleigh is already under way. The assistance of your Dragonlord is no longer required.”
Athore leapt to his feet, his axe seeming to leap into his hands. “This be not the agreement made between Granil and Mortan! The hosts of Granil and the Browns will be joining the battle at Raleigh, with you or against you. You be choosing which.”
Loran made a strange gesture with his right hand and pushed it out toward Athore with an indecipherable shout. Athore was thrown backwards as if struck by the force of a small car, flying at least twenty feet through the air in a jumble of arms and legs before he crashed into one of the abandoned vehicles strewn about the valley. The car buckled and bent under the force of the crash. Broken glass exploded outward from the shattered windows.
Athore toppled, face-forward, onto the ground. Shards of glass stuck up from his back, stained orange with his blood.
“The agreement is annulled,” Loran snapped, pulling the hood of his red cloak back up over his head. “Tell Granil that his services are no longer required and, should he desire to test his might against the power of Mortan-zai, he is more than welcome to meet his death at our hands.”
Without a backward glance, Loran turned on his heels and headed back the way he had come, soon vanishing behind the hills.
Caleb sat motionless behind the blackened tree stump, eyes off the scope, not understanding what he had just seen.
Down in the valley, Athore moved shakily, his arms twitching and jerking uncontrollably as he struggled to rise. He pulled himself halfway up the car, but his legs wouldn’t move. He yanked feebly at the roof, struggling vainly to pull himself up, but his grip slowly gave way and he slid down the side of the car.
Caleb looked down at his rifle and then glanced down to the valley where Loran had disappeared. The gun would create too much noise if he wanted to follow Loran. Shouldering it, he drew a short, wide-bladed knife from his boot and got to his feet.
He picked his way down the hill, careful not to send too much ash and dust into the air. Athore had managed to get himself up into a sitting position. Orange blood pooled around him, making a sickening slurry of ash and debris. Caleb walked up to him, knife held at the ready. Athore glanced up at him and grinned.
“I thought I be smelling more human flesh earlier.” A fit of coughing overcame him and he spat up blood. “This be how I die then? Betrayed by the wizard and killed by a human—a pitiful human .”
Caleb ignored him. Athore’s axe lay within easy reach of his fully functional right hand, even if everything else from the waist down was lifeless.
“Listen to me, human,” Athore said suddenly. The intensity of his words made Caleb pause. “Chaos will reign. You will all die. Mortan will start with us—with the Browns—but eventually you will all die. This is just the beginning.”
Caleb shrugged and flipped his knife over in his hand. “I’m already dead.”
His arm pumped and the knife took Athore just below the throat. It was an easy throw, one that didn’t give Caleb even the slightest surge of pride.
Athore gurgled weakly and then slumped forward in death.
Ten minutes later, Caleb was tracking once more, his knife back in its sheath and devoid of the half-troll’s yellow-orange blood. A few hundred yards from where he had witnessed the encounter between Loran and Athore, more tracks merged with the pair that he followed. From the breadth, depth, and number, Caleb judged that at least six more trolls had joined up with the man. If Caleb was lucky, he’d be able to sneak up on a few of the trolls while they were alone and then pick them off one by one. That was way too many for Caleb to take on at once, even without the addition of Loran’s apparent power.
He still didn’t fully
“I agree. The siege at Raleigh is already under way. The assistance of your Dragonlord is no longer required.”
Athore leapt to his feet, his axe seeming to leap into his hands. “This be not the agreement made between Granil and Mortan! The hosts of Granil and the Browns will be joining the battle at Raleigh, with you or against you. You be choosing which.”
Loran made a strange gesture with his right hand and pushed it out toward Athore with an indecipherable shout. Athore was thrown backwards as if struck by the force of a small car, flying at least twenty feet through the air in a jumble of arms and legs before he crashed into one of the abandoned vehicles strewn about the valley. The car buckled and bent under the force of the crash. Broken glass exploded outward from the shattered windows.
Athore toppled, face-forward, onto the ground. Shards of glass stuck up from his back, stained orange with his blood.
“The agreement is annulled,” Loran snapped, pulling the hood of his red cloak back up over his head. “Tell Granil that his services are no longer required and, should he desire to test his might against the power of Mortan-zai, he is more than welcome to meet his death at our hands.”
Without a backward glance, Loran turned on his heels and headed back the way he had come, soon vanishing behind the hills.
Caleb sat motionless behind the blackened tree stump, eyes off the scope, not understanding what he had just seen.
Down in the valley, Athore moved shakily, his arms twitching and jerking uncontrollably as he struggled to rise. He pulled himself halfway up the car, but his legs wouldn’t move. He yanked feebly at the roof, struggling vainly to pull himself up, but his grip slowly gave way and he slid down the side of the car.
Caleb looked down at his rifle and then glanced down to the valley where Loran had disappeared. The gun would create too much noise if he wanted to follow Loran. Shouldering it, he drew a short, wide-bladed knife from his boot and got to his feet.
He picked his way down the hill, careful not to send too much ash and dust into the air. Athore had managed to get himself up into a sitting position. Orange blood pooled around him, making a sickening slurry of ash and debris. Caleb walked up to him, knife held at the ready. Athore glanced up at him and grinned.
“I thought I be smelling more human flesh earlier.” A fit of coughing overcame him and he spat up blood. “This be how I die then? Betrayed by the wizard and killed by a human—a pitiful human .”
Caleb ignored him. Athore’s axe lay within easy reach of his fully functional right hand, even if everything else from the waist down was lifeless.
“Listen to me, human,” Athore said suddenly. The intensity of his words made Caleb pause. “Chaos will reign. You will all die. Mortan will start with us—with the Browns—but eventually you will all die. This is just the beginning.”
Caleb shrugged and flipped his knife over in his hand. “I’m already dead.”
His arm pumped and the knife took Athore just below the throat. It was an easy throw, one that didn’t give Caleb even the slightest surge of pride.
Athore gurgled weakly and then slumped forward in death.
Ten minutes later, Caleb was tracking once more, his knife back in its sheath and devoid of the half-troll’s yellow-orange blood. A few hundred yards from where he had witnessed the encounter between Loran and Athore, more tracks merged with the pair that he followed. From the breadth, depth, and number, Caleb judged that at least six more trolls had joined up with the man. If Caleb was lucky, he’d be able to sneak up on a few of the trolls while they were alone and then pick them off one by one. That was way too many for Caleb to take on at once, even without the addition of Loran’s apparent power.
He still didn’t fully
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