Blood of Salar (Masters and Mages Book 2) by Alexis Duran

Author:Alexis Duran
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy, LGBT
Publisher: Loose Id LLC
Published: 2015-03-02T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

What sort of assassin risks the outcome of his mission to save nameless peasants from abuse? What sort of elite killer allows himself to be outmaneuvered by untrained ruffians?

Not a very good one, I suppose. One whose conscience has dulled his edges.

Conscience? More like weakness of spirit. You were never worthy of this honor, Jarka.

Jamil laughed, and it hurt everywhere. Not physically, but emotionally. The voices in his head, be they his father’s, the king’s, Alliard’s, or his own—they spoke the truth. He’d let go of the illusion of being able to master this warrior’s world, and it crushed him. He had failed. Failed at everything.

I never wanted this. M’lan found me out, and ever since, I haven’t been able to lie to myself. Release me from this death, and I will go be a poor farmer in some other land.

There is no release.

Gradually, subtly, the physical pain he’d expected began to seep into his skin, burrowing its way deeper and deeper into his bones. His shoulder burned and ached. Fear followed as he wondered if he’d be able to stand it, wondered if he’d cry out, scream, humiliate himself.

But was anyone near to witness it? Who had been speaking? Only sharp-edged darkness rose before him, planes of gray intersecting with strips of black, whispers of wind, a crackling sound. Murmurs. He concentrated on seeing, and the specks pestering his eyes resolved into stars.

The gray and black shapes were steep canyon walls, the cracks and snaps a fire. No warmth reached him. He was ice-cold, and he couldn’t move. He sensed he hovered on the brink of two worlds, the old and the ancient. Life and death.

Fanciful monk’s delusions. But the fact remained he couldn’t move and wasn’t even sure if he breathed. A weight pressed against his chest. Somehow, he knew it was his sword.

Some of the murmurs clarified into words. “A pity we couldn’t save him.”

“Who was he?” asked a woman’s soft voice.

“A royalist, for sure.”

“Or maybe a common man sick of all the injustice.”

“He killed five men. That’s no random avenger.”

“He saved you from… He saved you.”

“He saved all of us.”

“I wonder why.”

Jamil wanted to protest that he was not dead, and if they’d only dribble a bit of water down his parched throat, he might very well live. His body didn’t respond, and he drifted back into the murky, abstract dream of a desert night somewhere on the plane of death.

He vaguely sensed the people moving, whispering, sometimes coming close and peering down on him. Didn’t they know they should not be stopping here? They should keep running, even at night. The rebels did not take well to such humiliations.

Eventually the fire died down, and all became still and silent, all except for the faint hiss of a snake slithering across the shale. Had Ka’alar followed him here? The god must be uncomfortable so far out of his watery element, Jamil mused. Why did the god bother to chase after him? Wasn’t Jamil a mere

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