Darkvision by Bruce R. Cordell Read Free Book Online

passed, his form became hazy and uncertain. Using this extra advantage, he eased back into a crevice.
    The gray troll barreled around the edge of the rise, easily and quickly covering ground using both knuckles and feet. The earth trembled with each bounding step. It did not see Iahn, but paused, snuffling. The vengeance taker, whose position was hidden by both skill and magic, studied the creature’s anatomy, musculature, and bulging veins. It was certainly of troll blood, but larger than any he had seen in a bestiary.
    Iahn had studied on occasion in the Purple Library, an ancient and sadly out-of-date collection of scrolls, text fragments, and books retained in the heart of Deep Imaskar. He was an expert on all the bestiaries there. Apparently, troll varieties had multiplied and diversified in the millennia since the collection was gathered.
    The vengeance taker studied the way the troll’s muscles moved over its bones, the way its great chest rose and fell with each breath. He gently twisted the hilt of his dragonfly blade, then pulled it apart along the revealed seam. Silently, the thinblade slipped free of its enclosing hilt, giving Iahn the advantage of two weapons—the wafer-thin stiletto, and the long dragonfly blade, shaped like the wing of a dragonfly. Iahn froze, concentrating on his pursuer.
    The troll snuffed and snuffled, its eyes vainly searching for its quarry. For his part, the vengeance taker had finished taking the creature’s measure. A hollow caught the vengeance taker’s eye, high up on the creature’s neck, right below its jaw. The monstrosity would be dead before it realized it was threatened. All he had to do was to step forward and plunge his thinblade up and in …
    The troll’s awful nose flared and the beast charged Iahn. The vengeance taker abandoned his plan, bobbing and weaving wide to the left instead. A great fist smashed into the rock, barely missing Iahn. The stone cracked like thunder and a spray of shards rained down, leaving a fist-sized crater behind.
    The beast had smelled him!
    The vengeance taker struck, driving the thinblade deep into the creature—but missed the spot where he could have spilled the creature’s life blood instantly.
    The troll screamed nonetheless, surprised at the pain in its chest. Its claws fell with lethal fury, and Iahn rolled to evade the fatal embrace. He slashed at the creature’s ankles, hoping to pierce a major artery, but its skin resisted his jabs.
    Then a gray, questing hand grabbed him.
    The troll lifted Iahn clear off the ground. He had sorely underestimated the threat the creature posed. The troll raised him higher, its roar a clarion, nearly bursting Iahn’s eardrums. Its breath was a quagmire of rot and past blood feasts.
    Scissoring his body in the troll’s rough grip, he managed to slip the tip of his thinblade into the corner of its left eye. He simultaneously swung the longer dragonfly blade around to connect with the other side of the creature’s head. It roared and dropped Iahn. The vengeance taker knew the wounds he’d inflicted were only superficial; after all, his opponent was a troll. Its flesh would knit soon enough.
    “I see him,” a voice pronounced. A slender gray shaft plunged into the ground at Iahn’s feet as the vengeance taker dodged away from the gray troll’s reach.
    An answering voice said, “So do I, but he’s wearing a charm of some sort. I missed.” The last was said with some incredulity. The second voice was speaking in Elvish, one of the many languages Iahn had studied to achieve his rank and damos.
    The two elves in desert dress stood not more than thirty paces from him, their bows drawn and nocked. The troll wheeled around, its eyes fastening on Iahn despite the blurring around the vengeance taker.
    “Hold, I have not come to fight!” Iahn yelled in Elvish. He had lost the upper hand. He didn’t doubt he could slay the troll by calling on his damos, but he didn’t want to be skewered by the