Rise of the Serpent (Serpent's War Book 2) by Jason Halstead Page B

together.”
    “On my word as a...well, as a knight of Altonia,” Namitus insisted. “Alto’s sword was forged with the aid of a wizard, a priest of Leander, and Thork. And the aid of several other friends of ours: a barbarian from the northern tribes and a dwarf who came north to reclaim the lost dwarven kingdom under the Northern Divide. Alto’s blood was used to quench the blade, binding it to him in body and soul.”
    “My brother has a point,” Jillystria said. “It is a far-fetched notion that the saint of fear and the saint of honesty, duty, and light would join forces.”
    The rogue smiled. “Do evil men feel fear? Does a child fear going too far from home for fear of getting lost or worse? Does a cruel tyrant fear that one day he will be overthrown?”
    “Of course,” Corian said.
    Jillystria spoke before Corian could continue. “I see your wisdom. Saint Jarook is, perhaps, misunderstood. The common thought is that Jarook is an evil saint, but fear is not always an evil thing.”
    Namitus’s grin grew wider. She was clever. Given to bad judgment, perhaps, but clever. Maybe that was where he got it from. “Yes.”
    Corian clamped his lips together and grunted.
    “Still avoiding my question,” Amra pointed out.
    The rogue chuckled. “Not on purpose. The truth is, I don’t know. Thork once said he went where the fear was. He can feel it. I’m not sure what he means, but he said wherever Alto and the rest of us went, there was sure to be a lot of fear in the making. Perhaps these days my friend is tied down to mundane matters and cannot be at the center of the world’s disturbances. Maybe, instead, the torch has been passed to you.”
    Corian stumbled as he walked. “What?” he gasped. “You mean, like, a quest?”
    “I suppose it could be seen as such,” Namitus said. “The splisskin are rising and you are trying to thwart their plans. That sounds like a quest to me.”
    “Aren’t we part of it too?” Amra asked. “We’re here, after all.”
    Namitus frowned. Amra was just a girl. The same as Allisandra, he supposed, but Allisandra had faced battle. “I intend only to find out what I can and return north,” Namitus said. “I gave your father my word I would take you there...safely.”
    “I’m not a child,” Amra protested. “I’m twenty years old, old enough I should have a family of my own by now.”
    He turned to spare her a quick look and studied her to see if she was lying. Twenty? She could be, he supposed. “And you haven’t because you’ve stayed on to help your father at his shop?”
    “Yes.”
    Namitus grunted. “We’ll see if you’re half as good with a cudgel as you think you are tonight then.”
    Her eyes twinkled and her lips twitched as she struggled against a smile. “What about now?” she asked.
    Namitus turned back around and stared at the fast approaching city of Greyfall. “Now we find ourselves a decent meal, some extra horses, and see if anyone can guide us to this Lariki fellow.”
    Namitus heard several gasps as his small group of travelers turned and saw the nearby city. Their conversation had caused the time and distance to pass without their notice. The jungle grew thicker to their sides but ahead the road was straight and true to a mighty wood and stone bridge wide enough for two wagons to drive abreast.
    “Greyfall,” Namitus announced as they crossed the bridge a few minutes later. “It thrives on trade from the sea and the river, but make no mistake, this is a city that governs itself and the land around it. Truly a city-state. And that means that you should take care not to upset any of the merchants or guards, lest they prove to be less than tolerant of your barbaric ways.”
    “Elves are hardly barbaric,” Corian sneered.
    Namitus sighed, mindful of the buildings and people they were riding among. “It was a—bah, never mind.”
    They fell into an uneasy silence as they made their way through the buildings at the edge of town.