House of Blades (The Traveler's Gate Trilogy) by Will Wight Read Free Book Online

The sergeant had, as was his right as a representative of Malachi, demanded nine villagers for the King’s sacrifice. He would have been vague about their ultimate fate, since very few in the kingdom knew what really happened to the annual sacrifices, but clear that he would need nine people to come with him to the capital. The Mayor and his advisors had balked.
    And this Traveler, impatient and offended, had led an attack. The sergeant had probably had no choice but to go along. Still, it was his mission, and therefore ultimately his responsibility.
    “That was a foolish decision, Sergeant Yakir,” Leah said coldly. “The people of this village have no identity as Damascans, and no idea of the sacrifice. They certainly could have done nothing that would justify such a forceful response.”
    Yakir paled and bowed again, almost certainly aware that she could take his life with a stray thought. She wouldn’t, though, unless she had no other choice.
    “I must speak with the Overlord regarding these matters,” Leah continued. “But until then, my own orders remain. They come from the King himself.”
    Yakir cleared his throat. “Your orders, Highness?”
    Leah nodded, already planning ahead. These next few weeks would be far more dangerous for her than the past two years, but she could see no other alternative.
    “You will take me to Bel Calem,” Leah commanded. “As a sacrifice.”
    Sergeant Yakir turned white.

C HAPTER T HREE :
    T RAVELERS

    The land north of Myria was not as fertile as to the south, but neither had it yet become the forbidding wasteland of the Badari Desert. It was mostly long stretches of rock and scraggly trees, broken by occasional hills and tiny creeks. Simon hadn’t run more than two or three miles when a young man stepped out from behind a stand of rocks and waved him down. Alin’s gold hair flashed in the moonlight.
    If Simon had had the strength, he would have waved and shouted back. Instead, he fell to his knees, letting his mother spill to the ground. She had lost consciousness at some point, but Simon hadn’t even noticed.  
    Alin ran over and gathered Simon’s mother in his arms. His head was half-covered by a dirty cloth bandage, and blood trickled down from his scalp to drip onto his shirt. He still managed to look like a ragged hero, injured in battle but still radiating strength, rather than the helpless victim of a mad Traveler. Simon knew he himself probably looked like a boy exhausted by a day of work. A skinny boy.
    “Who’s with you?” Simon asked, once he had a moment to catch his breath.  
    Alin shook his head, looking grim. “Only a few. Mostly old people, and the ones who lived right next to the north gate. We think they were probably looking for slaves, so they didn’t care if the old or the weak got away.”
    “Those looked like Overlord Malachi’s men,” Simon said. “We’re his people. Why would he do this?” Simon had grown up with stories of Malachi, the Overlord who managed their corner of Damasca in the name of the King. His reputation said he was distant but just, not a murderous tyrant.
    Alin set his jaw, and his eyes blazed. He held Simon’s mother in his arms as if she weighed nothing. “The King will punish Malachi as he deserves,” Alin said. “And if he does not...if he doesn’t, then we are his people no longer.” His voice trembled with rage, but Simon almost rolled his eyes.
    What would Overlord Malachi or His Majesty Zakareth care if the people of one small village refused to obey him? He had already demonstrated his willingness to burn their homes to the ground; he would hardly care about some empty threats.
    He didn’t say any of that to Alin, of course. No need to start a fight.
    Alin led Simon to a shallow cave, barely more than a depression in the rocks, less than a hundred paces from where Alin had first appeared. About two dozen people from the village had crammed themselves inside. Simon spotted Chaim, a large man and the