The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet Read Online Free

tunic, Achilios was dressed in a green and brown outfit consisting of jerkin and pants that allowed him to blend well into their present surroundings. He had soft leather boots designed for padding as silently through the woods as any animal. His slim frame hinted of his swiftness but belied his strength. Uldyssian’s brother had tried to string and fire the great bow that was Achilios’s pride and joy, tried and failed. The hawk-faced archer was not just the best at his craft among Seram’s inhabitants, but—at least in Mendeln’s estimation—superior to many a hunter elsewhere. He had watched Achilios match skills against veteran guards from passing caravans and never had seen him lose.
    “It…looks ancient,” was all Mendeln could finally answer. He felt some embarrassment; even Achilios had noticed that .
    But the hunter nodded as if listening to a sage. Although more than half a decade older than Mendeln, he treated the youngest son of Diomedes as if Mendeln were the fount of all the world’s knowledge. That was one of the few points of frustration between Achilios and Uldyssian, who saw little practical use in most of his sibling’s learning, but did at least tolerate it.
    “The thing is…” The archer ran a hand through his thick, almost leonine mane. “…I’ve been through this area many a time and I swear that it’s never been here before!”
    Mendeln only nodded, his attention once more upon his companion’s find. Achilios had an eye such as he could only envy, Mendeln’s own vision often forcing him to peer close at parchments in order to make out the words he so cherished.
    And at this particular thing, he peered especially close, for the symbols etched in its face were, in many places, worn almost clean away by weather and age. Some of them he could not have made out even if his nose had been pressed against the stone. Clearly, the object before him had suffered long the effects of nature, and yet, how could that be, when it had, by Achilios’s declaration, only just appeared?
    Kneeling before it, Mendeln estimated the dimensions. Just over the length of his foot on each side of the square base and, had he been standing, a hand’s breadth below his knee. The flat top was roughly half the dimensions of the base. In size alone, the stone carving should have been impossible to miss seeing.
    He touched the ground before it. “Nothing of recent change in the surroundings?”
    “No.”
    Mendeln traced his fingers almost reverently over some of the more legible symbols. Legible only in that he could see them, not understand them. One prominent marking seemed to loop in and around itself, giving it no end. As Mendeln touched it, he had a sense of incredible age.
    He involuntarily shook his head. Not age, Uldyssian’s brother thought, but agelessness .
    Mendeln’s mind paused at that sudden notion, never having conceived of it before. Agelessness. How could such a thing be possible?
    The stone was black, but the markings glittered as if silver. That also fascinated him, for they did not appear to have been painted so. The skill with which the entire thing had been carved bespoke an artisan far more sophisticated than could be found in Seram or even in any of the larger settlements in the entire western region.
    Belatedly, Mendeln realized that Achilios was shaking him by the shoulder. He wondered why. “What?”
    The archer leaned warily over him, his brow furrowed deep in concern. “The moment you touched it, you seemed to still! You didn’t blink and I’d swear you didn’t breathe!”
    “I…did not notice.” Mendeln was tempted to touch the artifact again, fascinated to see if the same thing would happen. However, he suspected that Achilios would not like that. “Did you touch it earlier?”
    There was a noticeable hesitation, then, “Yes.”
    “But the same thing did not happen to you, did it?”
    Achilios’s complexion went pale with memory. “No. No.”
    “Then, what? Did you