AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’ll need another sword,” he said, glaring at the empty sheath at his hip.
Garion shook his head and sighed, frustrated. “You’re not a hero, Charlie. Neither am I.”
The priest ignored the assassin. He drew out his map again, laying it flat on the ground.
“But there’s still something we can do.”
Garion crouched down next to him, a look of amusement on his face. “And that is what exactly?”
Charlie eyed the parchment, tracing a line through the forest. Past rivers and villages, deep into the woods.
“I’ll figure it out,” he muttered. His finger drew a line over the forest on the map. “Eventually.”
“You know how I feel about the Castlewood,” Garion said, sounding annoyed. His lips twisted with distaste, and a little fear too.
Charlie almost rolled his eyes. There were too many stories about witches in the forest, born among the echoes the Spindles left behind. But Spindlerotten witches were the least of his worries now. He smiled slowly, the air cold on his teeth.
“Trust me, I did not run from a dragon only to die in a cackling old woman’s cauldron,” he said. “Now help me figure out a path that won’t get me killed.”
Garion chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”
2
Death, or Something Worse
Andry
Blessed are the burned.
The old prayer echoed in Andry’s head. He remembered how his mother used to say it, over the hearth in their apartments, brown hands outstretched to the redeeming god.
I certainly do not feel blessed now, he thought, coughing up another gasp of smoke as he ran. Valtik’s hand was cold in his own, her bony fingers surprisingly strong as she led them through the city.
Taristan’s undead army lurched through the streets behind them. Most were Ashlanders, born of a broken realm, little more than skeletons, rotted to the bone. But some werefresh. The dead of Gidastern fought for Taristan now, the citizens of his own kingdom turned to corpse soldiers. Their fate was almost too horrific to comprehend.
And more will join them, Andry knew, thinking of the soldiers who rode into Gidastern. All the bodies left behind. The Jydi raiders. The Elders. The Treckish war band.
And the Companions too.
Sigil.
Dom.
The two giants stayed behind to defend the retreat, and buy whatever time they could for Corayne. Andry only prayed their sacrifice was enough.
And that Sorasa was enough to protect Corayne alone.
Andry winced at the thought.
They sprinted through what felt like hell itself, a maze filled with monstrous hounds, the corpse army, Taristan, his red wizard, and a damned dragon of all things. Not to mention the dangers of the city itself, the buildings burning and collapsing around him.
Somehow, Valtik kept them ahead of it all, leading Andry out to the city docks.
Only a few small boats remained in the harbor, with most already heading out to sea. Soldiers piled onto anything floating, wading out into the shallows or leaping from the docks. Ashes coated their armor and faces in heavy soot, obscuring any insignia or kingdom colors. Treckish, Elder, Jydi—Andry could hardly tell them apart.
Everyone looks the same against the ending of the world.
Only Valtik somehow escaped the ash falling all around them. Her shift dress was still white, her bare feet and hands clean. She stopped to stare at the burning city, every street echoing with death. Shadows moved through the smoke, lurching into the harbor.
