Shadowwalker: In Dark Days, This Warrior Must Battle Night by John Legg

Author:John Legg [Legg, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781629187273
Publisher: Wolfpack Publishing
Published: 2017-05-22T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

Shadowwalker and Farsa clattered through the massive portcullis set in the high stone wall surrounding the city of Edgewhere. They rode past the small barren space just inside the gate and clopped across the bridge over the moat and into the marketplace. Their eyes darted this way and that, taking in the myriad wonders on display.

It had been almost a year since they had left Ergun’s village. They had first drifted into Baktara, but the presence of Night’s men was still too heavy for Shadowwalker. So, they wandered back into the desert and headed westward until they came to Lorn on the shores of Savage Bay. They planned to stay only a short time—just long enough for the ferry to take them to Lanelle arrived.

The port city was not a hospitable place, they found. The atmosphere bothered Farsa more than it did Shadowwalker, since all she had known was the open desert. The fog and rain, and the stench of the waterfront made her uneasy. Far worse, were the pirates who strutted through the areas near the docks. They were a dirty and vicious lot, frequently drunk and always looking for a fight.

More than one filthy, scarred pirate met his death at Shadowwalker’s blades. The forestlander kept mostly a friendly face and often used his humor. But he sometimes wondered if that was part of the problem. Could it be that they saw him as an easy mark because of easy-going nature?

He never did know for certain, but they left in a hurry after Farsa was kidnapped from their shabby rooms by two particularly reprehensible pirates. Shadowwalker, who was on his way home, heard Farsa’s screams and raced across the stone street to see her being carried to a boat.

One buccaneer heard Shadowwalker’s thundering footsteps and turned, letting go of the girl just in time to have Shadowwalker’s long ax slice him nearly in two at the waist. The other pirate, eyes suddenly wide with fear, released Farsa and ran as fast as his sea legs would carry him.

Within an hour, Shadowwalker and Farsa were riding out of Lorn. They did not stop until they were safely in the foothills of the D’relle Mountains, a half-day’s ride from the city. The mountains ran full across the Tho’orn Isthmus and curled around to the west, ringing Savage Bay though not quite as far north as the city’s outermost edges.

They spent a few days in the foothills, luxuriating in the pleasant climate, the serenity, the abundant game, and the plentiful, fruit-heavy trees. They made love often on the carpet of soft, lush grasses, savoring in each other’s body and attention.

But Shadowwalker, ever restless, decided to move on. He never thought about his restlessness, in large part because it rarely occurred to him to do so. But there was also a small part of him that did know and refused to let him contemplate it—because then he would have to consider his past, his ancestorless past. It was, for him, a thing better left alone.

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