Darkstone - An Evil Reborn (Book 4) by Guy Antibes Read Free Book Online

him, he noticed a faint brightness in the distance. He pushed the horse forward with his hips and the mare continued to amble on towards the light.
    Vish ended up at a farmer’s cottage in a small copse of trees that dotted the landscape. He called out.
    “Help!  I’m wounded.” Vish could barely speak.
    A youngish man walked out onto the small covered porch. “Merciful Gods,” the man said as he ran to Vish.
    His destination reached, Vish slipped easily into unconsciousness.
    ~~~

 
    Chapter Four
    ~
    V ish opened his eyes and let the figures that chased him with swords fade into the dark mist of expired dreams. He blinked the images away. The orange flicker of firelight painted the ceiling of wooden planks. The fire made the room so hot, so very hot.
    A man’s face, lightly bearded, looked at him, spoiling his view of the ceiling. “I am Peleor and you are?”
    “Vishan Daryaku.” Should he have been so honest? The man might rob him. He made a move to get up, but a wave of weakness pushed him back down on an uncomfortable bed.
    “Ah, a son of our great emperor. You had to be a high ranking noble.” He rubbed his beard and felt Vish’s forehead.
    “I’m going to have to cause you more pain, Vishan Daryaku. Your wounds weren’t cleaned out properly and have begun to fester. The wine spilled on them might have stalled your inevitable fever,” the man said. “I am going to put you under with a spell. It will deaden some of the pain, but not all.”
    Vish nodded and wondered why the man would wear all those clothes in a sweltering room. He screamed as sharp pains leapt from the ache he felt before. The man was stabbing his arms with hot needles and bathing his wounds with molten metal. He kept screaming until the man withdrew and then, as the pain lessened, he returned to sleep and dreamed of more visions of men trying to kill him.
    Vishan awoke to light against his eyelids. He open his eyes and shut them again as the light of the sun pierced into the darkness of the house sending pain like tiny shards of glass into his eyes. He blinked some more. The heat of the cottage had gone. He felt cooler despite the fire that still burned in the fireplace.
    “You are better, young Daryaku,” his rescuer said. “I have some broth for you to drink. I think I removed most if not all of what was beginning to fester in your wounds. I can only wonder what happened to you.”
    Vish tried to speak, but could only produce croaking sounds. The man spooned some broth into his mouth and his body responded to the food.
    “Thank you. More please,” Vish managed to say, as the man finished.
    “Why not?” he smiled and gave Vish another helping.
    “I can speak better now.”
    “Reward me with your story, that’s all I seek. You carry a remarkable blade.”
    “My father, the Emperor, gave it to me yesterday.”
    “No he didn’t.”
    “He did too!” Vish managed to bring up as much indignation as his weak condition permitted.
    “Three days ago, your father gave you this knife,” the man said. “You have been asleep with fever and then with my spell as I worked on you with my meager healing powers.”
    “I forgot your name,” Vish said.
    “Peleor, a sorcerer of sorts.”
    “I first thank you for saving me, Peleor,” Vish said and then related his entire story to the man.
    The man smiled. “How do you know that I am not in league with this Fenakyr creature?”
    Vish shrank into the covers and realized that he only wore the bandages wrapped around his arms and chest. “You would have killed me,”
    “That might have been true, were I a different kind of man. I sense power in you, Vish. Why didn’t you use it to save yourself?”
    He still had power? Then he remembered Fenakyr’s suggestion. “I don’t like the Tower and would like to find a sorcerer to teach me enough to defend myself.”
    “Ah! A sensible statement,” Peleor said. “What if I taught you?”
    “This is too far from the city,” Vish said.