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

only one of the Mayor’s advisors who hadn’t ridden out of the village. He had his sturdy arms wrapped around his wife and three children. The three of them were all close to Simon’s age, but they clung to their father like toddlers.
    Leah’s aunt Nurita held her daughters close in one protective bundle; her stern face showed no sign of tears or dirt. Other than those two families, Simon and Alin were the only two visible without white in their hair.
    Someone passed Simon a skin of water, and he took it gratefully. After a few tries, he was able to get his mother to drink a little, though she didn’t wake. After she stopped drinking and turned over on her side, Simon raised the skin to his own lips and set about washing away the coating of dry, stinging dust in his throat.
    Alin began to speak as Simon drank, keeping his voice low to avoid bothering the others. “We talked before you got here. The soldiers burned what they could, but the fire wouldn’t have spread far. There’s just not enough wood. We’re going to go back in tomorrow and see what can be saved. We think that, over the next few days, some of the others might come back to us.”
    Simon thought of Leah’s hand on his face and hoped fervently that Alin was right.
    “We talked about going to Kortan,” Alin continued, “but it’s far enough away that we’re not sure some of the people here will make it on foot, in the middle of the night with no supplies. And the raiders are probably gone by now.” He spat the last sentence like he wished the soldiers had stayed, so that he could kill them himself.
    Alin appeared to notice Simon’s sword for the first time, and he brightened. “You have a weapon? Did you take it from one of the soldiers?”
    Simon opened his mouth to respond, but Nurita stirred and raised her head. “Did you hear that?” she demanded.
    Raiders appeared as if summoned to answer her question. They were on foot this time, and their dark armor glistened in the moonlight as they spread out to encircle the cave entrance. Everyone scrambled to their feet and someone began to cry, but no one made any other sound. They simply stood in the silence of shock and despair.
    “They must have left the village right after we did,” Alin whispered. Anger and frustration tightened his voice. “They had to have followed right on our heels. Why would they do that? Why? ”
    After they had finished surrounding the entrance, the raiders stopped moving. They stood with weapons drawn, in silence, waiting. After a moment or two, a lean man in a hooded cloak stepped forward. He carried a torch in one hand, and by its light Simon could see the man’s clothes more clearly: the cloak was brown, the shirt beneath purple. Malachi’s colors.
    As the man approached, he used his other hand to draw the hood back from his face. His head was entirely hairless, his skin pale, and his eyes a luminous green that shone in the torchlight. He turned his head to survey the situation and grimaced as if displeased.
    “I am Cormac, a Traveler of Endross in service to Overlord Malachi.” Several people moaned, and Simon felt his chest tighten. Travelers had a thousand powers, most of them gruesome and terrible. He had heard the legends of Endross as a boy from his father: Endross was the place where storms were born, a blasted desert wasteland where only the most twisted and horrible monsters lived.
    Of course, Simon’s father had never actually seen a Traveler before the one that killed him.
    “Your village was given the honor of providing a small sacrifice to the Overlord,” Cormac continued. “But you have reacted with blasphemy and sedition. You are too close, no doubt, to the heretics of Enosh who fail to worship the Evening Star. You will all be taken to the Overlord’s seat in Bel Calem, where you will face his judgment. And, of course, we have taken the necessary sacrifices in spite of your...lack of cooperation.”
    He made a gesture with his free hand,