The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge Read Online Free Page A

always favored the Pheorian dialect because of its elegant emphasis on vowels and its smooth tone, which was unlike the thick brogue of Terrasolis. The planet of Zoria was unhindered by mixed languages but shared All-Speak. Only the elves spoke in foreign tongues.
    “Where in Pheor?” Balin pressed. His body felt stiff, but beyond a bit of bed soreness, nothing hurt. If his memories were correct, he should have been writhing in pain. Yet he wasn’t.
    Strange.
    “We’re about half a day’s travel from Canaan.”
    Balin watched as Damir closely studied him. He was young in the face, his chin just beginning to grow defined, and his lips were still soft and full. They formed a cupid’s bow, plump with a slightly thicker bottom. Balin would have bet his best horse that Damir wasn’t older than twenty-two, tops.
    A strange blue line wove its way down Damir’s throat, like a prominent vein, and the more Balin looked at the man, he could see a vibrant vein peek out from Damir’s rolled-up sleeve on his left arm and wrap itself all the way around his hand. Balin grabbed Damir’s wrist before he could pull away, and squeezed. “Why am I not injured? I was bitten by a Pheorian wolf. What are you? A medicus?”
    “I healed you, so you should be thanking me,” Damir whispered. He dropped his gaze to the offending hand but didn’t pull away.
    Balin held on for a moment longer and then released his grip. “You’re right; my apologies. Thank you.”
    Damir combed his fingers through his hair, brushing aside some bangs that had fallen into his eyes, and spoke. “You should rest. Even though I took care of your wounds, your body still needs time to recuperate. You were dehydrated and overtaxed, so it’s best to remain abed a bit.”
    “How long have I been asleep?” Balin asked as he reached for the glass of water.
    “About a day,” Damir replied as he rose from the bed. He hesitated and tucked his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “We can discuss what happened after you’ve regained your strength. For now, just sleep. When you wake, I’ll have dinner ready.”
    Balin opened his mouth to argue, but the truth was, he was still exhausted. As much as he didn’t want to return to his nightmares, his body craved sleep. He took a long drink of water and set the glass aside. For now he’d rest. Then, when he regained his strength, he’d see about reaching Canaan.
    Cythra’s tits. I was supposed to be at the castle four days ago . Balin lay back against the pillow, surprised at how comfortable the humble bed was. Sleep quickly reclaimed him.
     
    DAMIR TURNED AWAY as the stranger settled beneath the old quilt. He walked over to the window and drew the curtains shut, dimming that small corner of the house. When Damir turned around, the man’s breathing had evened out. As he studied the slumbering man, a small smile curled Damir’s mouth.
    Amber. His eyes had been the color of amber.
    Damir shook his head, and his thoughts scattered. Fantasizing about a pair of eyes was not a productive way of spending his time, even if they were the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.
    “What are you daydreaming about?” Elina asked as she walked into the house, brushing some dirt off her dress. Her long silvery-blonde braid swung behind her with each step. She screwed up her nose and glanced at the bed where the stranger slept. “Did he wake? Any clue who he is?”
    Damir shooed Elina out of the house before she woke him up. “Yes, he woke, and no. He needs to rest,” he told her as he stood in the doorway. “You can interrogate him when he wakes.”
    “I’m surprised you aren’t freaking out, Dammy. Usually you’re the one being ultraparanoid.” Elina propped her hands on her bony hips and cocked a brow in her brother’s direction. “So what gives? You got the hots for him or something?”
    Damir rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh, ignoring the warmth that crept across his cheeks. “No, Elina. But he