Ash Walker by Chris A. Jackson

Author:Chris A. Jackson [Jackson, Chris A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Publisher: Chris A. Jackson
Published: 2021-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

We took separate coaches to Tinworthy Keep. Nobody wants to ride with a shade, even if they were only riding outside, and Saraknyal absolutely refused to ride with Tori. I considered our weak plan as I watched Haven pass outside the window. Convincing the gnomes to rebel against their foremen wouldn’t be easy. Our success—and, apparently, the fate of Haven—rode on the narrow shoulders of a gnome boy ill-prepared to rule his house. Granted, Vinchi seemed mature for his age, but we were asking a lot from him.

But what do I know about children, I thought. Even when I was one, I didn’t spend much time with others.

*Worry less about Vinchi and more about Tori Blackbriar,* Saraknyal reminded me. *He’s got his blade on again.*

He’d been harping on about Tori from the moment he reappeared after excusing himself from breakfast, garbed in attire he considered appropriate for the coming mission: snug leather breeches with high boots, a white shirt over a layer of fine mail, a jaunty hat, kidskin gloves, and a bright lavender cape edged in gold. He cut a fine figure, the snug leather pants hugging him like a coat of paint. Bea looked as if she wanted to take a bite out of his codpiece, and I began to understand what women saw in him.

I’d always thought his suave persona an act, but I’d come to realize that it was just Tori. I envied him as he kissed Bea goodbye. I envied her a little, too. They both seemed so easy with others, so comfortable in their own skin.

Yes, there is Tori to consider...

Blackbriar’s coach-and-four clattered along surrounded by a squad of light cavalry. I had only my four shades, but I’d take them any day over a score of soldiers. We didn’t encounter anyone on the streets of Haven fool enough to impede our progress to Tinworthy Keep.

The keep, situated at the far eastern edge of the city, abutting a cliff of quarried stone, typified gnomish construction. Blocky and unimaginative, but functional, it obviously hadn’t been modified to accommodate tall folk. The outer curtain wall, thirty feet of sheer stone as smooth as a baby’s arse, was surrounded by a wide cobbled avenue, offering the gnomes atop the wall a fine killing field. I ordered Bromish to park down a side street with the back of the carriage facing the keep. Tori’s carriage pulled up beside us. His team fidgeted and stamped, unaccustomed to my shades.

I got out the opposite side and told Bromish, “Hunker down out of sight, but be ready. We may need to get out of here quickly.”

“Yes, mistress.” He hunched down in the driver’s seat, loaded crossbow in his lap.

My four shades formed up around me, and I lowered my voice to give them their orders. “You two, ward Tori Blackbriar from harm. You others, ward the gnome child.”

“Yes, mistress,” they all rumbled.

*You’re worried about Tori’s safety and not your own?* Saraknyal asked sarcastically. *How very selfless of you.*

With Soul Drinker strapped to my forearm, the energy of the souls Saraknyal had consumed in Jhavika’s keep hummed through me.

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