The Rohvim Book 2: Water and Blood by Webb Endi

Author:Webb, Endi [Webb, Endi]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2013-11-29T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

Priam ran. He bolted around the corner, through the open gate, and up the stairs after the men who had just entered the Dervais estate. His sword, which had dangled at his side, now flashed through the night air in his fist as he ran. Before entering the house, the second guard turned, and with a shout drew his own sword. Priam slashed at the man, and with a shocking pulse he sent his sword clattering to the ground—the man shaking his hand in pain. In the same motion, Priam reached out, touched the man’s head as he ran by, and as he fell Priam turned to the next guard.

This one was more prepared, but all the preparation in the world wouldn’t help him. The man grimaced as their blades collided, sparks flashing out, and Priam turned up the intensity of his shocks. The sword fell, and the man soon joined it. Somewhere, someone was screaming hysterically—he couldn’t tell if it was the woman or the teenager—but Priam had no time to focus on it. All he could see was the man standing before him. His target. Lord Dervais.

And he had seen him before. Memories of his and Aeden’s botched shenanigans from several years ago surfaced as he advanced on the man, who stood with his arms held up in futile defense.

“You’ll pay dearly for this, commoner. I’ll see you rot in Golanka—if they don’t disembowel you first, you wretched filth.”

“Save it. On your knees.” Priam pointed the sword at the man’s throat. The screaming continued. Priam heard a woman’s voice begging him to stop.

Remember, Priam. Nice and bloody. But remember your speech. The lady and her son need a good speech.

Right. The speech. He tried to remember the words Yoruth had made him repeat over and over again on their journey, but his mind rebelled, and he could focus on nothing but the sword pressed up against the neck of the man kneeling before him. What was he supposed to say? What was he doing here? He couldn’t do this. Run, he thought. There’s still time. They won’t recognize you. You can escape, deal with Yoruth later. Just run.

“Well, boy? Haven’t got the stones?” Dervais sneered.

“Shut up!” He pushed the sword a little more firmly to Dervais’ twitching neck.

The man’s sniffy, nasal voice rose even higher. “You’re a coward. A fool. I’ll tell you what. Drop your sword, and run. I’ll count to fifty before I call the guards. You can escape, and no one will ever know that you’re a coward.”

Priam’s fist squeezed the hilt until his knuckles turned white. Inadvertently, a few sparks erupted from the tip of the sword, grazing Dervais’ neck.

“Oh, so you’re a dark wizard, eh? Then I take it back. You’d better strike quickly, or I’ll call the guards and they’ll chase you until you pass out from exhaustion, and then you’ll beg for mercy as they slowly rip your limbs off. That’s what we do with dark wizards around here. Your head we’ll cut off last, and stick it on a pike at the entrance to the city.

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