Veiled Empire by Nathan Garrison

Author:Nathan Garrison [Garrison, Nathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Epic, Dark Fantasy, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9780062418241
Google: NFCWBgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0062418246
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-05-25T23:00:00+00:00

PART III

Chapter 11

THE WINTERS WERE harsh this far south, and Draevenus had not made it as far as he wished to before it became too dangerous to travel. Less than fifty klicks from where he’d left the men he’d rescued, he was forced to hole up in the inn of a small town to wait out the snowstorms and ice storms that ravaged the land.

Though he kept the rest of his body covered, even he knew that wearing a hood indoors at all times would draw far too many questions. Questions that might lead to a whisper in the ear of the local garrison commander. So, instead, Draevenus wore a thick wig, which sent black hair tumbling past his shoulders. He also applied a paste to his face that darkened it enough to hide his pale complexion.

The weather would soon begin warming. The first thaw was but weeks away. He was glad that the need for such hiding, such stagnation, would soon be over.

Time to get on with it.

Verge. He didn’t want to think about that place. About what took place there. He’d done all he could throughout the winter to keep himself distracted, focusing on securing provisions for the trek and keeping his body in peak condition. And returning his mind to the place it had been all those centuries ago. A place ready to kill at a moment’s notice. A place that didn’t think about the consequences and didn’t hesitate.

He thought he was nearly there.

Draevenus shoveled the last bite of food—mutton again—into his mouth and pushed the plate away. Within beats, a serving girl came to clear his plate, offering him a smile and a refill on his ale. He declined the latter but returned the former, which caused a spot of pink to blossom on her cheeks. He gulped the last of his ale and set the mug down just as an icy wind blew in from the open front door.

Draevenus studied the lone man who entered. He was tall, with a girth that indicated an appetite a shade north of healthy. The man shook snowflakes from his cloak and from the grey hair he kept tied in a ponytail. He carried a pack with a fiddle case strapped across the top of it.

As he made to sit, he pushed back the flaps of his cloak, and Draevenus saw the unmistakable outline of a sword sheath.

Draevenus tensed up. Only two kinds of civilians were allowed to carry swords: retired darkwatch, and retired Elite.

Instinct gripped him. He’d been staring at the man since he walked in but had not received the barest of glances in return. And the man had not been conservative with the cast of his eyes.

Bad move, friend. You might as well have announced your interest in me.

The only question was why? No answers came to mind that did not leave a sour feeling in his gut. He was not about to stick around to find out which it was.

Draevenus stood and made for the stairs.

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