Curse: The Dark God Book 2 by John D. Brown

Curse: The Dark God Book 2 by John D. Brown

Author:John D. Brown [Brown, John D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, epic fantasy, Magic & Wizards, Teen & Young Adult, dark, Sword & Sorcery, Coming of Age, Action & Adventure
Publisher: Blacksword Books
Published: 2015-01-31T08:00:00+00:00


21

Withers

SUGAR WALKED TO the wagon. Urban was wearing brown trousers and a dark gray tunic with a black leather vest. The bruise about his eye had already begun to turn yellow, which meant he must have been multiplying his own healing.

“Today you meet my cook,” he said.

The Mistress called after Sugar: “Keep that knife ready!”

Urban glanced down at her belt, and then he grinned and offered her his hand.

Sugar waved his hand off and climbed up onto the wagon seat on her own. He smelled of sweat and leather and the spiced oil in his hair. When she was settled, he flicked the reins. They rode out of the fortress, over the bridge, and along the road to the village. A young girl leading a red steer to the fortress moved off the road to let them pass.

When the girl was behind them, Urban said, “Have you been practicing?”

“I have,” she said.

“Are you wearing a weave?”

“My governor.”

“Give me your hand.”

Sugar placed her hand in his and readied herself for an attack, but none came. He turned her hand over and examined it. “Not a lady’s soft-gloved skin, is it?”

Sugar couldn’t help her station. She was not so rich as to be able to afford servants and pleasant lotions. She did use a little fat now and again to keep her hands from chapping to the point where they cracked and bled, but she knew they were not beautiful.

“You can read a lot about a person from their hands,” he said. “You’ve got a very old scar here. What is that from?”

“A knife.”

“Cooking?”

“I was practicing with my father, trying to disarm him.”

“Oh?” he asked and cocked an eyebrow.

“My Da liked to fight and wrestle. He was teaching me. Said no daughter of his was going to be a helpless thing.”

“And are you helpless?”

“I can hold my own.”

Urban nodded. “We’ll see.” Immediately, he attacked, trying to push through the doors of her soul.

She slammed herself closed, more in panic than anything else.

“Good,” he said. “Open.”

She relaxed and opened the doors of her soul again.

He struck again. Again, she shut him out. He tried three more times, but she blocked his every attempt. The panic was still there, but she also felt a bit of pride.

“You did practice,” he said. “And what about your mother’s weave?”

“I believe I found the mouth,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

She prepared to explain, but he struck again, and this time caught her off guard. He pressed past her barrier toward the center of her being. It was suffocating, bewildering. She fought, trying to dislodge him, but she could not shake his presence. Her panic rose until she felt he truly did mean her harm. He held his presence one terrifying moment longer, then retreated.

She slammed her doors shut and wrenched away from him. Lords, she could take a punch, but this was something else—a feeling of total loss of control, as if she were slipping uncontrollably toward a precipice.

She looked at him and wondered if anyone knew what Urban’s true intentions were.



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