Stormed Fortress Read Online Free

What would you give for release, then? '
    ' No coin is left, ' Sulfin Evend replied. ' None that won ' t cost me my life, or far worse, the ruin of a friend who ' s endangered. '
    Again, the ring of robed dartmen advanced, the one at the forefront closest of all. The dusky features under his hood held a scouring intensity that might read a man ' s very thoughts through his skin. ' Sacrifice brings you to Sanpashir ' s free wilds? '
    The sorrow welled up, then, too fierce to deny. Sulfin Evend shook his head. ' No. Concerning a pledge to a Fellowship Sorcerer, I have come to your tribe to consult. '
    If that startling statement was greeted by murmurs, the lead dartman ' s gesture restored his warriors to formal silence. ' Your friend, ' he said carefully. ' He needs no defence. Not if he still lives, and so has the power of choice. '
    Sulfin Evend disclosed the unsavoury fact. ' He is cursed. A vile binding that clouds his sight and warps his nature until he cannot know how much his will has been compromised. I have given my pledge to stand guard for him, and for that claimed burden, I place my appeal. '
    The lead dartman bowed his mantled head. ' By your will, then, disarm. All your weapons. You will also strip off every item you own that is not woven or braided from sun-ripened fibre. '
    At Sulfin Evend ' s stiff resistance, the lead dartman smiled, a flash of white teeth in the gloom. This is our way, town-bred! You are advised. One chance is given to respect our customs and stand on the truth that has brought you. Do you merit? '
    Sulfin Evend shot back his most cynical smile. ' Surrender, or else I ' ll be taken? '
    The lead dartman bridled. ' Did you think the least step of your path is not known? Our eldest has Seen you! Your trespasser ' s foot on our shores bears a portent, locked tight in the wheels of destiny. You will come, town-bred man. Though how you embrace the fate that awaits you as yet remains to be written. '
    Sulfin Evend caught back his self-deprecative laughter. Had he wished to turn back, the moment was forfeit, gone with his past consent to a Sorcerer ' s knife cut. He had no option but to lift off his helm, doff his belt and surcoat, shed his coat of mail, then peel off his laced leather gambeson. Stripped to his linen shirt and soaked breeches, and still braving the cruel rocks, barefoot, he unhooked the thong that secured the wrapped bundle that hung at his neck. The sheathed knife inside should not be left with the other steel weapons abandoned to rust on the beachhead.
    He extended the wrapped dagger. ' This blade is flint, and not fashioned for killing. The deer-hide still shrouds it, as it was entrusted to me by the woman who made me its bearer. '
    The lead dartman stepped forward, a wraith in jet robes. Backed by his tense dartmen, he lifted lean hands. His clasp, light and warm, briefly caged the slim bundle, overtop of the townsman ' s cold fingers.
    ' Feiyd eth sa! ' he snapped to his dartmen, in dialect. The inflection sounded amazed. Then he tipped his head, perhaps with respect. ' I will take charge of this knife, town-bred man. It will be unveiled, and its purpose made known to you if you come to win the petition you ' ve asked for. '
    Upon his signal, the robed dartmen closed in. They offered no word, no grace of assurance. Sulfin Evend found his hands strapped at the wrists. A blindfold obscured his vision. Then an impatient prod urged his stumbling, first step into an unknown future.
    * * *
    The same stars that wheeled above Sanpashir ' s headland bathed wan light over the vista of waste, due east of the Paravian circle. The ruin ' s gapped wall, with its forlorn tracery of carved arches, was not visible from the barren vale where the desert tribe ' s elder signalled her people to pause. The litter-borne man was let down on black earth, his blanket-swathed frame aligned to the north.
    ' Softly, now. His deep shock will release, soon. ' The wise crone who spoke as the voice of the tribe