Wytchfire (Book 1) Read Online Free

impulse to throw an elbow at Sneed’s jaw. He wouldn’t get far with his legs still tied. He massaged his sore wrists then gingerly touched the gash on his forehead from Dagath’s cudgel. Sneed withdrew meekly.
    Dagath pointed at the parchment. “Write.”
    Rowen hesitated, eyeing the poor but familiar handwriting already covering one whole side of the parchment. “No ink.”
    Dagath frowned.
    “If you start a fire, I can use the ash.”
    “You think I’m stupid, boy? Ash doesn’t last.” Dagath sneered. “Best we use blood.”
    Neither robber offered to bandage Rowen’s slashed palm once the letter had been written. Instead, Dagath ordered Sneed to lash Rowen’s wrists together again. By then, the sun was setting, bloodying the rolling hills to the west. The robbers dragged Rowen far off the road, untying his feet so they wouldn’t have to carry him. They soon reached a copse of trees.
    A paltry campsite indicated that the robbers must have been here before. Sneed bound Rowen’s feet again. He had regained some of his strength, but the sword tip pressed to his throat dissuaded him from attempting escape. That time, they tied him with his back to a tree. Then Sneed built a fire and fixed a simple meal of porridge that smelled of burnt, mashed asparagus, none of which they shared with their captive.
    Rowen tested his bonds and tried to ignore the growling in his stomach. Only three days had passed since he left the Lotus Isles, but he’d already been robbed and beaten, and his stomach was rumbling so ominously that he feared he was starving. He’d been well fed at Saikaido Temple, but once dismissed, he’d been forced to leave with only the few possessions he’d had when he arrived years before. It cost half his remaining coins to board the ship that ferried him across the Burnished Way, back to the mainland. He’d managed to buy some rations and a little lotus wine at a seaside village, but those had not lasted long. In fact, the only thing he had that remotely resembled foodstuffs was a pouch of sweetbitter leaves, chewed to keep teeth from rotting.
    I should offer those to Dagath, Rowen thought spitefully.
    When the highwaymen were done eating, Dagath forced Rowen to provide a detailed description of his father. Just follow the sound of a ringing hammer, Rowen wanted to say. He had already described the imaginary blacksmith twice, but he took care to keep the details the same. It might have been simpler to substitute a description of his true father, but Rowen barely remembered him. Still, Dagath appeared satisfied. With a final slew of threats, the burly killer set off into the night.
    Despite the pain throbbing from his cut palm, Rowen had to stop himself from grinning. Since Dagath could not read, Rowen had considered detailing his subterfuge in the letter so that whoever saw it would know what kind of man Dagath was. However, he’d not wanted to risk Sneed making out enough of the letter to catch the deception, so instead, Rowen kept up the act, penning a pleading letter to a man who did not exist.
    The act itself brought a pang of shame when Rowen remembered the knightly prohibition against lying for any reason. Then he reminded himself that he was not a knight. Besides, so far, lying had served him far better than his fighting prowess.
    Now I just have to find a way to get out of here! The people of Harso would not come to his aid. He meant nothing to them and had only visited the town once, working as a merchant’s bodyguard with his brother, though he doubted anyone would remember. Still, I’m better off than I was before.
    He thought again of Saikaido Temple with its beautiful gardens overflowing with the sweet perfume of dogblossoms, its stores of cool lotus wine, and its extravagant tilting yard, overseen by perhaps the greatest weapons trainers in the world. Maybe I’m not doing so well after all.
    Rowen tested his bonds again. He might saw the rope against the tree bark until he freed his