Shadow Walker (The Sword Saint Series Book 3) by Michael Wallace

Author:Michael Wallace [Wallace, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Balsalom Publishing
Published: 2020-04-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Narina was asleep. She had to be. The air shimmered like liquid, and her breaths were as loud as the bellows at the temple forge. There was a ringing in her ears, and the cry of the charging warbrand sounded like it came from the bottom of a well.

Somehow he missed with his falchion, and she found herself standing atop the stone wall, then flipping over his head to the dirt berm on the opposite side of the lane. He didn’t seem able to spot her, and she had a clear strike at his neck with her demon blade as she passed above him. But her sword was slippery in her hand. Not only did she miss, but the demon dropped from her fist.

Narina landed on the berm, then danced clear as he took another swing. She dropped her other sword. How had that happened? Her swords were a part of her; it was like dropping her own arm, an impossibility.

The ratter drugged you. And you let him. You told him to do it.

Yes, that was right. She’d taken Andras’s foul concoction of honey and sleepweed, and now her limbs wouldn’t move as she told them to.

“How do you do that?” the man asked. “How do you hide yourself like that?”

“My sowen.”

“A clever trick. Did you learn it, were you taught it? Or did it come to you?”

“Who are you? Why do you share Miklos’s sowen?” Indeed, she’d have sworn it was the same man if either her ears or her eyes had agreed, but both senses told her this was a different man.

“I’m his brother in arms. Radolf. We trained together, we meditated together. There’s no one I love more—our auras and sowen will be forever entwined.” A raised eyebrow. “Did you fight him? Did you kill him?”

“What is it to you?”

“Because if you haven’t fought Miklos, that means I’ll be the one to kill him. Once I’m done with you. But I don’t think you did kill him. You thought I was him, didn’t you? That’s who you thought you’d be fighting.”

Narina walked backward along the berm as he came toward her on the dirt path a few feet below her. That led the fight away from Andras, Ruven, and the dogs, but also away from her swords, which she could sense lying in the ground where they’d slipped from her grasp. Radolf hadn’t spotted the weapons, and couldn’t quite pin her down with his sowen, no matter how much he groped.

“You’ve done something to yourself,” Radolf said. “There’s a poison in you. Some noxious herb or weed.”

“I’m trying to. . .”

“What?”

“To stop this. Stop myself.”

“Ah. Well you’ve weakened yourself. It’s a clever trick, the way you bend the light, but it won’t do you any good if you take a spill.”

The warbrand moved in a blur. He charged alongside the stone wall with his blade sweeping across at ankle level, then cutting back in a return swing to where she’d have been if she’d been on that side of the path.

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