Page 127 of Thief of Souls
“No!” I slam a palm into his arm. Desperately. Uselessly. “You think… I don’t know that nothing will come of it?” I kick and strain, but his weight’s too heavy to move. “You like them to beg,” I gasp. “You like to have us… on our knees before you. You want us to have a moment of hope…. Before you take it away from us!”
He laughs. “Maybe. Now where’s the fucking horn? I know you hid it here somewhere.”
“I’ll never tell you! I’ll never beg!” I scream, even as the knife drives through my chest with slow, inexorable pressure. It hurts. It hurts so much. I kick and scream, but there’s no stopping him.
Until the wraith right next to us suddenly slumps to his knees with a gasp, clasping at his throat before he slams face-first into the stone beside us.
Ruhle pauses.
“What the fuck?” he demands, pushing to his feet.
I grab the knife, gasping against the feel of it embedded just below my collarbone.Hurts…. Fuck. I don’t want to die, but even as I drag the knife out of my flesh, my vision wavers.
What happened?
I blink and find Karseem’s wide eyes staring blankly at me as Ruhle rolls his friend over.
His throat bleeds red. Someone cut it open to the spine.
I scramble upright, holding onto Ruhle’s bloody knife.
“Karseem?” This from Gwyvaen.
Ruhle draws another knife, his gaze cutting around the cavern. “Who did this? Show yourself.”
“A pity I don’t obey the whims of wraith born bastards,” a voice mocks.
Ruhle freezes, his knife hovering in his hand.
The breath I inhaled leaves me in a rush as I slowly lower my hands. My heart pounds fit to tear through my ribs. I recognize that mocking drawl. And while I don’t dare call the emotion I feel hope, I can’t help feeling as though… there may be a way out of this.
“Serruen?” Ruhle hisses. “I thought these caverns were secured?”
Serruen straightens, drawing the vicious scimitar he prefers. “They were.”
He takes one step toward where the voice came from and then he jerks back, as if something grabs him by the hair. A hiss of movement glints, and then blood spatters through the air as his throat is cut.
Serruen goes down like a bag of wheat. He slams to the floor, grabbing at his throat and choking. Blood wells and spurts through his fingers. His heels kick the floor. A death rattle echoes in his throat.
Cauldron’s piss. I kick my way free of the net of demorari silk, still bleeding like a stuck pig. A shadow grabbed him. A fucking shadow.
Falion.
I try to shove to my feet, but the world sways around me.Curse it.I have to get out of here. Ruhle wants my head. And who knows what Falion wants of me.
He surely didn’t just save my life because he likes me.
It happens so slowly, I almost think my eyes are playing tricks. A shadow forms, one tapping a knife against the stone wall.
“Blast it,” Ruhle snaps to the side, toward Rhyvaen.
“I can’t,” the light bringer returns. “I need time to recover.”
Grabbing a torch from the wall, Ruhle shoves it toward Rhyvaen. “Then fucking light this. Lights! Everyone get a torch!”
“All the better to see you with,” says the shadow, as three torches flare into flame. The light only paints it larger across the walls.
“Who are you?” Ruhle demands.
