When True Night Falls Read Online Free
Author: C.S. Friedman
settlement. A few trams. Two generators—”
He shook his head. “Won’t last. Can’t repair them. Oh, my God, Lise....” His hands were shaking. A cinder fell to the ground before him, extinguishing itself on the damp soil. He struggled to think clearly, to plan. Wasn’t that his duty? “We’ll have to record what we can. All the data we can come up with ... before people forget. Put it down on paper, write down everything we know—”
“They won’t want to do that.” She said it quietly, but he knew as soon as she spoke the words that they were true. “They’ll want weapons first. Security. They won’t want to waste time recording dead facts when there are things out there waiting to eat them.”
“It isn’t a waste—”
“I know that. You know that. But will they understand?”
He shut his eyes. The sound of the explosion pounded in his brain, a heartbeat of loss. “Then we’ll lose everything we have,” he whispered. “Everything we are.”
There was nothing she could say to that. Nothing she could do but hold on to him, while the sky filled with the black ash of their dreams. The fallout of Casca’s sacrifice, the last shattered remnants of their Terran heritage.
In the firelight it looked a lot like blood.
THE PROMISED LAND
One
Report-in-absence from Damien Kilcannon Vryce, Knight of the Golden Flame, Companion of the Earth-Star Ascendant
To the Patriarch Jaxom IV, Holy Father of the Eastern Realm, Keeper of the Prophet’s Law,
Signed and sealed this 5th day of March, 1247 A.S.
Most Reverend Father,
It is with a mixture of joy and trepidation that I write you on this fifth day of March, from the port city of Sattin. Joy, because I am able to report at last that our mission in the rakhlands was a success. The sorcerous tyrant who was draining that region of life and power has been sent to her final judgment, and the hordes who served her have likewise been dispatched. (Praise God, who makes such triumphs possible!) Trepidation, because I have come to believe that something far more deadly has finally turned its eye upon the human lands. And I fear that our recent victory, so hard won, may prove to be no more than a prelude to a far more bloody battle.
But let me record these things in their proper order:
We left from Jaggonath on October 5th of 1246, a party of three: myself, the Loremaster Ciani of Faraday, and Ciani’s close friend and professional assistant Senzei Reese. You will recall that the lady had been attacked at her place of business by a trio of demonlike creatures, whose malevolent Workings had robbed her of her memories and her most precious powers. We had determined that these creatures came from the rakhlands and would be returning to that place. It was our intention to follow them to that secret land and destroy them, thereby freeing the lady from their dire influence, and the human lands from further threat by their power.
You know that we set out for Kale, intending to hire passage to the rakhlands from that port. Such a journey meant five days of hard traveling, but nights could be spent in the relative safety of the daes. Since our quarry appeared to be night-bound, we anticipated little risk during this period. I served in my capacity as priest and Healer more than once along this road. And once, following a young boy’s tragic death, I made the acquaintance of a man who shared our road, a traveler named Gerald Tarrant.
How shall I describe this man who later played such a part in our undertaking? Elegant. Forbidding. Seductive. Malevolent. Utterly ruthless. I enclose a drawing of his person, but no simple sketch can possibly capture the essence of the man. As for his purpose ... let me say that I would not put it past him to have staged the whole thing—to have tormented a child until his spirit died, leaving an empty shell—simply because it amused him to watch a Healer flounder.
Despite his obvious power—or perhaps because of
He shook his head. “Won’t last. Can’t repair them. Oh, my God, Lise....” His hands were shaking. A cinder fell to the ground before him, extinguishing itself on the damp soil. He struggled to think clearly, to plan. Wasn’t that his duty? “We’ll have to record what we can. All the data we can come up with ... before people forget. Put it down on paper, write down everything we know—”
“They won’t want to do that.” She said it quietly, but he knew as soon as she spoke the words that they were true. “They’ll want weapons first. Security. They won’t want to waste time recording dead facts when there are things out there waiting to eat them.”
“It isn’t a waste—”
“I know that. You know that. But will they understand?”
He shut his eyes. The sound of the explosion pounded in his brain, a heartbeat of loss. “Then we’ll lose everything we have,” he whispered. “Everything we are.”
There was nothing she could say to that. Nothing she could do but hold on to him, while the sky filled with the black ash of their dreams. The fallout of Casca’s sacrifice, the last shattered remnants of their Terran heritage.
In the firelight it looked a lot like blood.
THE PROMISED LAND
One
Report-in-absence from Damien Kilcannon Vryce, Knight of the Golden Flame, Companion of the Earth-Star Ascendant
To the Patriarch Jaxom IV, Holy Father of the Eastern Realm, Keeper of the Prophet’s Law,
Signed and sealed this 5th day of March, 1247 A.S.
Most Reverend Father,
It is with a mixture of joy and trepidation that I write you on this fifth day of March, from the port city of Sattin. Joy, because I am able to report at last that our mission in the rakhlands was a success. The sorcerous tyrant who was draining that region of life and power has been sent to her final judgment, and the hordes who served her have likewise been dispatched. (Praise God, who makes such triumphs possible!) Trepidation, because I have come to believe that something far more deadly has finally turned its eye upon the human lands. And I fear that our recent victory, so hard won, may prove to be no more than a prelude to a far more bloody battle.
But let me record these things in their proper order:
We left from Jaggonath on October 5th of 1246, a party of three: myself, the Loremaster Ciani of Faraday, and Ciani’s close friend and professional assistant Senzei Reese. You will recall that the lady had been attacked at her place of business by a trio of demonlike creatures, whose malevolent Workings had robbed her of her memories and her most precious powers. We had determined that these creatures came from the rakhlands and would be returning to that place. It was our intention to follow them to that secret land and destroy them, thereby freeing the lady from their dire influence, and the human lands from further threat by their power.
You know that we set out for Kale, intending to hire passage to the rakhlands from that port. Such a journey meant five days of hard traveling, but nights could be spent in the relative safety of the daes. Since our quarry appeared to be night-bound, we anticipated little risk during this period. I served in my capacity as priest and Healer more than once along this road. And once, following a young boy’s tragic death, I made the acquaintance of a man who shared our road, a traveler named Gerald Tarrant.
How shall I describe this man who later played such a part in our undertaking? Elegant. Forbidding. Seductive. Malevolent. Utterly ruthless. I enclose a drawing of his person, but no simple sketch can possibly capture the essence of the man. As for his purpose ... let me say that I would not put it past him to have staged the whole thing—to have tormented a child until his spirit died, leaving an empty shell—simply because it amused him to watch a Healer flounder.
Despite his obvious power—or perhaps because of
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