The Wounded Shadow by Patrick W. Carr

Author:Patrick W. Carr
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy;FIC042080;FIC009000;FIC009020
ISBN: 9781441265487
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2018-01-18T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 35

The door didn’t last through the next blow. Whoever had trapped us in the bishop’s quarters had planned ahead—they’d brought a battering ram. Cosp filled the room, but they didn’t strike, only set themselves with their swords and waited.

Bolt crouched, but a moment later he shook his head and tossed the sword onto the table in the middle of the room. “‘If there’s a choice between dying now and dying later . . .’” he murmured.

“‘Choose later,’” I finished. I’d first heard that saying from the southern mercenaries who entered the Darkwater with me ten years ago. It didn’t seem like a good omen.

A wall of cosp surrounded us and spilled out into the hall, cutting off any hope of escape. Bishop Gehata threaded his way through the soldiers, wearing that same smile of superiority that made me want to punch his face, but I noticed his eyes held a bit of the unbalance that probably still showed in mine.

“How?” Mirren asked.

The bishop’s smile grew. “You were a calculated risk, Mirren—one that I was almost unwilling to take. Letting you inside Lord Dura’s mind was a gamble, but necessary. I told my guards to watch me for any behavior that seemed out of place.” He turned to me. “After I’ve disposed of your friends, Lord Dura, I’ll be relieving you of your gift.” He looked around. “I’ll have to have my quarters cleansed, of course, but as we say, the growth of the church is watered by blood.”

If there was a means to redeem Gehata from his ambition, it eluded me. I looked at the guards around him, as stoic and uncaring of his blasphemy as stone. “Do none of you care that he’s going to destroy you all?”

The bishop’s laughter mocked me. “Like you, Lord Dura, I prize loyalty, and I’ve gone to great lengths to ensure it.” He sighed, almost purring his pleasure. Then he pointed at Custos. “I think I’d like that one to die first—the librarian. Kill him. Now.”

Bolt moved to intercept, weaponless, but a half-dozen swords swung his way, and their owners positioned themselves so they each had a clean line of attack.

Before the guards could get to Custos, I stepped in front and pulled my gloves. “I won’t stand idle while you kill him. I don’t expect to win, but if this goes badly, I will die before you can take the gift. Your apothecary is not here.”

A sharp retort of sound echoed in the room, and I saw Bishop Gehata applauding. “This is better than a play.” He pointed to Custos. “Isn’t it ironic that as the curtain goes up on the next act, it’s actually coming down on his life?”

Bolt shifted closer to me, and the cosp closest withdrew a step, nervous. For months he’d been my constant companion, the purity of his gift an illustration of just how far humanity had fallen. But in all that time, even during the fight with Duke Orlan’s pet killer, I had never seen the focused intensity, the capacity for explosive violence that I saw now.

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