An Empire of Tears (Tales of a Prodigy Book 1) by Tim Marquitz

Author:Tim Marquitz [Marquitz, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-16T22:00:00+00:00

Covenant

As much as Gryl believed the shadebinder had told the truth about Kala Mordain, Gryl could find no compassion in his heart for a creature who would use children as his pawns, murdering them to wear their flesh like waxen puppets. Whatever schemes the two sorcerers were working toward, Gryl would not be a part of either. Not if he could help it.

As he ran, the mage’s voice still trailing him in the distance, he wondered at his options. Was he as trapped in the catacombs as the shadebinder was? He felt for the map, finding it still sealed within the pouch. He wanted to be relieved by its presence but he couldn’t bring himself to be. Kala had lied to him, that much was certain, but was it all a lie? Was the map nothing more than an elaborate ruse to keep him circling the catacombs until he came across the corpse mage and one of them killed the other? He couldn’t be sure there was any other exit besides the one he’d entered through, inside the mausoleum. And what awaited him there? If he made it past the corpse mage, what guarantee did he have that Kala wasn’t lying in wait for him on the other side of the crypt?

Gryl groaned. “None,” he said to himself, teeth grating on the word.

Exhausted by his harried flight to avoid the wrath of his prodigy brethren, and born a foolish soul no amount of torture could fully rein in, he’d wanted to believe in Kala’s goodness but he was woefully unprepared to recognize true kindness amidst deceit. He’d known neither in his life, only the cruel bluntness of Myr Eltara and the seers, the promise of agony in exchange for continued existence. That was all he knew, no subterfuge to the whip or the brand, no false promises to the rituals that wove their magic beneath his skin. Gryl had much to learn of the world outside of Avantr, that much was clear. He only needed to survive first.

Gryl veered into a random corridor and dropped to a crouch, slowing his heart rate and gathering his breath. Only silence greeted him as he listened for sounds of pursuit, but he knew that would not last long. He pulled the map from its pouch and scanned its surface, turning it about and marking his place on it in his head as best he could. There was no trusting Kala or the corpse mage, both likely sharing some portion of the truth, though just enough to serve their cause. Yet he had few options remaining to him. Either he risked returning to the mausoleum—whether to learn Kala had been correct and there was no way out there, or to slip free only to return to the city that wanted him dead—or he could trust in the map and follow the path toward the hoped-for exit. Neither choice appealed to him.

Yet he found himself on his feet again, his boots leading him toward the catacomb exit of their own accord.

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