To Blackfyre Keep by Anthony Ryan

Author:Anthony Ryan [Ryan, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781645240860
Amazon: B0BJCFMF6M
Publisher: Subterranean Press
Published: 2022-10-15T05:00:00+00:00

Anselm, for all his evident desire for retribution, was at least amenable to common sense. Watches of ten soldiers each were placed on the gaps in the walls, changed every three hours to allow a modicum of rest before sunrise. The company bedded down in the main chamber of the tower, with Anselm and the Stone Dogs occupying the upper floors. An inspection of the stairwells revealed a good deal of cracked masonry but the steps remained intact all the way to the top.

Climbing onto the tower’s summit, Guyime found Lorweth sitting between two crenellations. He had an arm raised to the sky where a small cloud, lit by the crescent moon, formed a gently revolving spiral.

“Seems I remain immune to whatever malaise infects this place, your worship,” he said brightly as Guyime moved to his side. “That’s something, eh?”

Guyime rested his forearms on the stonework to gaze out at the placid lake water. “Druidic magic is highly distinct from the demonic, as I recall.”

“Wouldn’t know about that.” Lorweth shrugged and let his arm fall to his lap, the small cloud above slipping into vapour. “Never had much’ve an education in the arcane arts, truth be told. The urge to wander claimed me at an early age, y’see? So off I went, without benefit of an elder’s wisdom.”

He spoke with typical off-hand humour, but Guyime had many years experience of perceiving mummery. “You’re lying,” he said. “I suspect your education was fairly comprehensive, but also harsh in nature. I’ve found that’s often the way when it comes to learning anything of value.”

He saw a small flush of resentful concern on the druid’s face before he turned away. Habitual liars rarely appreciated the unravelling of their tales.

“I don’t care, Master Druid,” Guyime told him. “I don’t harbour the slightest regard for your past or your assuredly long litany of misdeeds. I do care about the as yet unanswered question of why you continue to attach yourself to us. You bear no cursed sword, receive no pay, yet you are with us for every mile of the journey.”

“I told you in Atheria, your worship.” Lorweth shot him a wide smile notable for its patent insincerity. “There’s a considerable debt betwixt us, and I aim to see it settled.”

“No, that’s not it. As I’ve told you several times, I consider your debt paid. What is it that draws you to this hunt, I wonder? It can’t be a desire to claim one of the swords. You are not so foolish as to think possessing such a thing is anything but a curse. So why?” He leaned closer when Lorweth didn’t answer, voice hardening in insistence. “Why?”

“Does it matter?” A rare blossoming of anger shone in Lorweth’s eye as he turned to Guyime, one that reminded both that the balance of magic in their band had abruptly shifted. The druid was now the most powerful soul amongst them.

“It matters,” Guyime said, refusing to be cowed, “because I suspect our survival here will depend a great deal on you.

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