Dance of Battle: A Dark Fantasy (Shedim Rebellion Book 4) by Burke Fitzpatrick

Author:Burke Fitzpatrick [Fitzpatrick, Burke]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780991057276
Publisher: Blade Books LLC
Published: 2017-04-22T06:00:00+00:00

V

Tyrus carried Marah past the burnt remains of the tribesmen. Their battering ram smoldered, and their army looked like burnt-out skeletons wrapped in charred metal. He had grown tired of the smell of burnt things. Marah had a habit of turning things to ash. He shifted her from one arm to the other so he could scratch at his nose.

They approached a massive steel door that filled the cavern from floor to ceiling. It resembled a vault more than a city and was covered in dents. At the blackened gates, Silas hammered three times with his mace, and a small window slid open. He bickered with someone on the other side before the gate swung open. Hundreds of wardens formed a wall of shields and pikes. They watched them from beneath their heavy plate helms.

The city was a welcome change from the dreary tunnels. Fires and torches burned, giving the stone a warm glow. The air was fresher, and many plants grew along the walls of the buildings. Someone somewhere was baking bread, giving the Underworld its first smells of civilization. The sights and smells washed over Tyrus like a warm bath, cleansing away the filth they had marched through.

A vast cavern hung over their heads, filled with massive stalactites. The ceiling was high enough that a haze of smoke drifted between the stalactites, almost giving the impression of clouds. Everyone spread out and inhaled deeply and took a moment to enjoy the space.

Not long after the group had entered the city, representatives from the king came to escort them up several flights of stairs to a stone room. Tyrus carried Marah into a large room carved from one big slab of granite. An older dwarf with an almost comically large mustache sat on the throne. He seemed weighted down by the trappings of his office. A large crown pushed his brow down to his nose, and several thick chains hung around his neck as he slumped in his chair.

Their escort said, “King Mora Varag Donat, I present to you Marah of Narbor and Silas of the Stone Song.”

King Donat took one look at Marah and asked, “Which one of you idiots brought a child to war?”

Silas said, “This is Marah of Narbor. She is a prophet.”

“You are a girl? I apologize, but I could not tell.”

Marah said, “But I have long hair.”

“So do I.”

“I wear a dress.”

“I wear a robe.” King Donat shrugged and spoke to Silas. “None of the prophets were girls. Are you sure she is one of them? How can that be?”

“I fought beside her.”

“Ah.” The king reconsidered her with raised eyebrows. “We won’t argue with Silas of the Stone Song. His counsel is prized by many of our kings. I guess it makes sense. Even Alivar must have been a little boy once.” He cleared his throat. “Apologies, Marah of Narbor. It is a great honor to host you in Dun Berthal.”

Marah offered a slight tilt of her head, and the king’s beady eyes crinkled in mirth.

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