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

was injured, and we couldn’t leave him to die.”
    “So he’s another stray. Didn’t I tell you not to bring any more home?”
    “Who’s the adult here?” Damir asked with mock severity.
    Elina gave him a toothy grin and shrugged her dainty shoulders. “Sometimes I wonder.”
    “Go find something to do before I find a chore for you. The roof could use a little work. And who knows, there might even be an accident.” Damir narrowed his eyes at her. She let out a chuckle and walked away, waving him off.
    When Elina was out of sight, Damir’s doubts came back. Who was this man? With eyes of amber and hair the color of raven feathers, he was definitely not a man from Pheor. Damir could only pray he hadn’t been wrong in bringing the man home.
    * * * *
    Balin woke to the smell of dinner cooking. It was a fragrant scent filled with roasted vegetables and spiced meats. He hadn’t even realized how famished he was until his stomach gave an embarrassingly loud growl. He carefully pushed himself up, mindful of his stiff muscles. He rolled his left shoulder, testing it. He didn’t understand how this man had healed his wounds, but he was grateful. Beyond the soreness, exhaustion, and hunger that bombarded him, he felt better than he should have.
    “Good, you’re awake. I’ll get Damir,” a melodic voice chirped. Balin glanced over at the girl standing near the bed. She was nothing more than a child, but her hazel gaze ran deep, filled with a knowledge some men thrice her age had yet to discover.
    “Damir?” Balin asked. His mind flashed back to the aquatic eyes that had glowed so warmly at him.
    “My brother. I’m Elina.” She clasped her hands in front of her and slowly swung her hips back and forth. “He went out to check on the animals one last time before dinner.”
    She turned to the fireplace where a large pot was set, and stirred the contents. He saw her deeply inhale, and then she spun around and skipped out of the house like a sprite.
    Balin licked his cracked lips. “Damir.”
    The name rested pleasantly on his tongue. It sent delicate ripples over his body and stirred a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.
    Just as Balin managed to get out of bed, the sheet wrapped around his waist, Damir returned with his sister. He looked over at Balin with a wide smile that seemed to brighten his already luminous eyes.
    “How do you feel?”
    “Considering my previous state, I’d say wonderful,” Balin replied. He tried not to let his thoughts drift over the past few days. Howls still echoed in his mind like stubborn poltergeists. He rubbed a hand through his tangled hair. “I…I want to thank you, for your generosity. Not many men would be so kind.”
    Most men would have slit his throat and taken what was left of him, not that there had been much to take. The men he’d spent his lifetime rubbing shoulders with in the lowest of shade halls—the filthy gambling dens, where men could find cheap drinks and drugs—didn’t think twice about another man’s life. Damir was a radiant light in the blight of Balin’s life, a rarity he hadn’t known existed.
    Damir gestured to the small wooden table set up in front of the fire. Balin glanced down at the sheet still wrapped around his lap and then to Damir and his sister. “As much as I would love to join you, there is just one slight problem.”
    “Yes?”
    Confusion drew the man’s brows together. Balin found he liked how the tip of Damir’s nose tilted up.
    “Clothes. I have none.” Balin stated and chuckled softly when Damir’s face turned a rosy shade.
    “Oh, of course. Elina, fetch some of Father’s clothes and bring them down. They should fit him just fine,” Damir ordered.
    Elina nodded and rushed upstairs. When she returned, she brandished a pair of simple brown cotton trousers, a plain shirt, and a pair of old leather work boots. She passed them to Balin with a smile.
    “Here you go.”
    “Thank you.” Balin took the clothes and looked between