square, materializing as quickly as he’d disappeared before.
The rain, reduced to a heavy drizzle, allowed the ogre and the gnoll to get a better look at the enshrouded figure.
His armor was an old style, an odd fashion uncommon in the southern realms, more suited for colder climes of the north. A high collar concealed the lower half of his face and a worn, broad-brimmed hat covered all but his eyes. Those eyes were chilling. Pearly and opalescent, they did not glow, but neither were they muted by shadow, darkness, or rain. His dark cloak was unmoved by the wind, wrapped tightly around him. He was silent and still, as if he were not a part of the world at all but a vision, a figment. Only a few loose strands of silvery-blond hair seemed to react to the cold gale that blew through the streets.
Gyusk nodded to two of his warriors. They nodded back and advanced on the still figure. Their loping gait was slow as they padded toward him with axes raised, growling as they neared.
His collar was blown aside for a moment, revealing a pale face. The man smiled. His bloodthirsty grin was discordant with Mahgra’s observation of light behind the pale gaze. Those unblinking eyes fell on the two gnolls as they closed on him. Mahgra gripped the handle of his glaive, smelling blood on the air in spite of the wind and rain.
Mahgra narrowed his eyes, intrigued by this strange visitor but angered as well. Nothing assaulted his vanity more than an enemy who regarded his magnificence with indifference. He clenched his fists and waited to measure the skill of this unearthly warrior. Spells tumbled through his mind like the rain before his eyes. The thundering of his heart and the lightning he prepared on his lips manufactured a storm to match the arcane tempest around him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Quin had already stained his blade, killing eight gnolls he’d encountered in the abandoned streets. The rest he had allowed to escape, his menacing aura more than just an affectation of style. The shadows that surged through his spirit had an effect on those he encountered, and most were glad to be well away from it. These two approaching gnolls, fur wet from the rain, carrying weapons in hands that must have been chilled to ice in the unseasonable cold, began to sense the darkness that pervaded this lone warrior.
Quinsareth could see the indecision in their hyena faces. They looked at one another, then at him. He allowed the tip of Bedlam’s long, curved blade to scrape against the cobbled street, making a slight screech. Its grating wail overpowered the sounds of thunder and rain.
The gnolls’ eyes widened, long ears falling back against their heads. Each took a step backward. The man spoke, in their language: “Leave now.” The translation was like a menacing growl. It proved enough. The pair turned and ran down a side street to escape the unnatural warrior and the imminent anger of their leader.
A large gnoll at their rear howled in rage, drawing a greatsword and barking for his warriors to attack. The stillness of the moment was shattered by sudden movement. The storm roared back to life as the remaining gnolls advanced.
Eight gnolls rushed Quinsareth, separating him from the townsfolk and their commander. Their leader followed, watching carefully, his massive blade held out before him. Quin waited for them to close, playing the element of surprise. He counted the heartbeats, ticked off the stones in his mind. The game continued, and the next stone was Blood.
Quinsareth charged the first three, releasing Bedlam’s howling blade from beneath his cloak. He ducked the first attack, the center gnoll’s scimitar whistling over his head. He sidestepped an axe from the right while raising Bedlam to deflect the broadsword on his left. Spinning on his knees, he was grateful for the protection of his greaves between him and the cobblestones of the street. Before the gnoll on his left could recover, he sliced through its abdomen. Gutted, the hyena
The rain, reduced to a heavy drizzle, allowed the ogre and the gnoll to get a better look at the enshrouded figure.
His armor was an old style, an odd fashion uncommon in the southern realms, more suited for colder climes of the north. A high collar concealed the lower half of his face and a worn, broad-brimmed hat covered all but his eyes. Those eyes were chilling. Pearly and opalescent, they did not glow, but neither were they muted by shadow, darkness, or rain. His dark cloak was unmoved by the wind, wrapped tightly around him. He was silent and still, as if he were not a part of the world at all but a vision, a figment. Only a few loose strands of silvery-blond hair seemed to react to the cold gale that blew through the streets.
Gyusk nodded to two of his warriors. They nodded back and advanced on the still figure. Their loping gait was slow as they padded toward him with axes raised, growling as they neared.
His collar was blown aside for a moment, revealing a pale face. The man smiled. His bloodthirsty grin was discordant with Mahgra’s observation of light behind the pale gaze. Those unblinking eyes fell on the two gnolls as they closed on him. Mahgra gripped the handle of his glaive, smelling blood on the air in spite of the wind and rain.
Mahgra narrowed his eyes, intrigued by this strange visitor but angered as well. Nothing assaulted his vanity more than an enemy who regarded his magnificence with indifference. He clenched his fists and waited to measure the skill of this unearthly warrior. Spells tumbled through his mind like the rain before his eyes. The thundering of his heart and the lightning he prepared on his lips manufactured a storm to match the arcane tempest around him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Quin had already stained his blade, killing eight gnolls he’d encountered in the abandoned streets. The rest he had allowed to escape, his menacing aura more than just an affectation of style. The shadows that surged through his spirit had an effect on those he encountered, and most were glad to be well away from it. These two approaching gnolls, fur wet from the rain, carrying weapons in hands that must have been chilled to ice in the unseasonable cold, began to sense the darkness that pervaded this lone warrior.
Quinsareth could see the indecision in their hyena faces. They looked at one another, then at him. He allowed the tip of Bedlam’s long, curved blade to scrape against the cobbled street, making a slight screech. Its grating wail overpowered the sounds of thunder and rain.
The gnolls’ eyes widened, long ears falling back against their heads. Each took a step backward. The man spoke, in their language: “Leave now.” The translation was like a menacing growl. It proved enough. The pair turned and ran down a side street to escape the unnatural warrior and the imminent anger of their leader.
A large gnoll at their rear howled in rage, drawing a greatsword and barking for his warriors to attack. The stillness of the moment was shattered by sudden movement. The storm roared back to life as the remaining gnolls advanced.
Eight gnolls rushed Quinsareth, separating him from the townsfolk and their commander. Their leader followed, watching carefully, his massive blade held out before him. Quin waited for them to close, playing the element of surprise. He counted the heartbeats, ticked off the stones in his mind. The game continued, and the next stone was Blood.
Quinsareth charged the first three, releasing Bedlam’s howling blade from beneath his cloak. He ducked the first attack, the center gnoll’s scimitar whistling over his head. He sidestepped an axe from the right while raising Bedlam to deflect the broadsword on his left. Spinning on his knees, he was grateful for the protection of his greaves between him and the cobblestones of the street. Before the gnoll on his left could recover, he sliced through its abdomen. Gutted, the hyena
Similar Books
