Binding of Souls (Shattered Son Book 2) by Sandell Wall

Author:Sandell Wall [Wall, Sandell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2024-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

BORTO WALKED AT THE rear of the newly departed caravan. Lesgoth still loomed behind them, the white walls of Arnoth gleaming atop her pinnacle. It would take a day or two for the imperial capital to sink into the horizon and disappear from view.

It had been many long years since Borto last trod the imperial highway. A marvel of close-fitting stones, these roads kept the provinces of the empire linked by trade and military might. Borto knew from experience that a thousand soldiers could move between provinces in a matter of days thanks to these wonders of engineering.

However, they were both a blessing and a curse. Because they were established highways, not to be moved or altered once laid down, the pelki could easily wait in ambush, assured that sooner or later someone would pass by. This forced most travelers to move about in armed caravans. Only the brave and foolhardy traversed the empire in a party smaller than ten.

The further they moved from the Stoneshard Mountains in the west, the more exposed Borto felt. He had not realized how accustomed he had grown to having hard rock beneath his feet and the shadow of the mountains close at hand. Out here on the plains, there was no shelter. Nowhere to hide. He kept his hood drawn tight. As the relentless afternoon sun beat down, Borto wished he had at least purchased a new robe.

Ahead of him, the caravan stretched for several hundred paces. Armed guards walked along the sides of the road, while horse-drawn wagons laden with trade goods trundled down the middle. Travelers who had booked passage like Borto stayed near the center. Some of them, those with deep pockets, had purchased a seat in a wagon. But most of them were forced to walk.

Near the middle of the procession, Borto spotted the red robes of the maledictor’s retinue. They were the primary reason for Borto’s bringing up the rear. He had not anticipated making the crossing to Galvon in the company of a maledictor, and he was thinking he had made a mistake in risking it.

The staff in his hand was a magic foci so powerful that it defied comprehension. In all his life, Borto had never heard tale of a foci larger than a twig. And those the magisterium zealously guarded. What would they do if they discovered what Borto carried? What would the maledictor do?

Borto did not know if the maledictor could detect the power within the staff simply by being near it, which meant that Borto intended to stay as far away from him as possible. Thus far, the maledictor had not seemed to notice Borto. Here at the far end of the caravan, only the rear guards stood between him and the open plains.

Someone coughed behind him. Borto swung his head towards the sound. Grim, the grisled leader of the caravan guards, came alongside him. The guard matched Borto’s pace, and they walked in silence for a while. Borto sensed Grim had something to say, but he was not about to pry it out of the man.

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