Ghost Sword by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Horror, 90 Minutes (44-64 Pages), Dark Fantasy, Greek & Roman, Fantasy, Myths & Legends, Historical, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: Azure Flame Media, LLC
Published: 2014-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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After night fell, Kylon saw Thalastre to bed, donned his armor and a cloak, and belted his sword of storm-forged steel about his waist.

And then he went alone into the night.

Once, the thought of doing so would never have crossed his mind. He was a noble of New Kyre and a son of House Kardamnos, and such a man did not wander the streets without his guards. Yet the Surge had been right. His encounters with Caina Amalas had changed him, and some of her strange, sideways perspective of the world had colored his thoughts. Including her knack for donning disguises and strolling undetected into the strongholds of her enemies.

And once again, he found that she was right.

No one recognized him. He was just another swordsman in a cloak, a man on an errand of his own, and no one troubled him. The sensation was disorienting. He was one of the most powerful men in the city, and had been a noble of House Kardamnos all his life. Anonymity was something new to him. It was almost intoxicating – he could stroll into a wine house and order a drink and play dice with mercenaries and caravan guards, and no one would recognize him. Of course, his mannerisms and speech would give him away. He did not have Caina’s gift for changing his accent, for transforming himself into a different person through posture and gesture and phrase.

He paused in an alley and extended his arcane senses. The emotions of the nearby crowd washed through him, a confusing jumble of hope and depression and lust and exhaustion and hunger and simple boredom, but by long practice he blocked them out. Kylon focused on the distortions over the city, the scars left by the Moroaica’s mighty sorcery.

He was near the vast maze of New Kyre’s docks, north of the Agora of Nations and close to the Agora of Fishmongers. He sensed the largest scar over the Pyramid of Storm, but there were smaller, fading ones scattered through the city’s poorer districts. At first he thought they were echoes from the larger rift over the Pyramid, but he realized they were traces of the nagataaru’s passage.

Like footprints. The creature did not belong in this world, and its presence left distortions in its wake, just as waves rippled out from a ship upon the sea. And if Kylon kept his wits about him, he could use those distortions to find the nagataaru and kill its host.

He followed the distortions across the city until he came to New Kyre’s northern gate and the Agora of the Free Cities. The road from the gate led to the various squabbling city-states of the coast, to Teslyn and Anub-kha and Ulmanost and Catekharon and the others, and endless caravans came through the gate carrying a countless array of goods. Caravanserais and wine houses ringed the Agora, and thousands of foreigners came through here on a daily basis.

It was the perfect place for a creature like the nagataaru to hunt its prey.

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