Magic of Thieves by C. Greenwood Read Free Book Online Page A

deer-hide boots, the wolf skin thrown over his tunic, and the long hunting knife at his belt. He was older, balding, and his wide belly was more gut than muscle.
    I moved my attention to the elderly priest. Despite his age, the Honored One was neither thin nor frail, but bore a round, fleshy frame. Trotting along in the woodsman’s wake, he puffed continually, his round cheeks pink with the exertion of moving his bulk to keep stride. Occasionally, he turned and snapped an order at the skinny boy trailing him and the unfortunate boy would labor to pick up his pace.
    The youth was of slim build with little muscle and it was obvious the burden he carried was too great for his size. But his wide jaw was set in an appearance of determination and despite his obvious weariness, there was a gleam of excitement in his eyes, as if he were so eager to reach his destination he didn’t care what conditions he was forced to endure along the way. He chewed his lower lip as he stumbled on, all but tripping over the hem of his ill-fitting robes. His dark hair was worn in a similar fashion to that of the old Honored, cropped so closely his pale scalp showed. His eyes, squinted against the beads of sweat trailing from his forehead, caught my attention. They were widely spaced and an odd, deep-violet hue.
    The three strangers were passing just in front of us when Dradac suddenly revealed our presence. Rising from our hiding place, he called, “Hold, friends. We mean you no harm.”
    The woodsman in the lead whipped around, startled. His eyes widened at the sight of us and his hands immediately came up to fumble for something over his shoulder.
    Dradac must have noticed the motion, for he called, “You have nothing to fear from us, so long as you draw no—”
    He was cut off abruptly, for the woodsman had found what he sought. In a sudden motion, he pulled free the weapon, raising and loosing it before anyone could react. Instinctively, I ducked, but I was not his target. I saw Dradac’s body jerk awkwardly and then he swayed sharply to one side, a stunned expression on his face. A red stain bloomed across his tunic, where a crossbow bolt lodged deeply into his left shoulder. I stared in horror from the giant to the small crossbow the stranger now held leveled at me.

 
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    I couldn’t have moved just then even had I known what action to take. Fortunately, I didn’t have to. With enraged shouts, the other outlaws leapt from their hiding places and felled the woodsman before he could prepare another bolt. My view was momentarily blocked as they wrestled him to the ground. There followed a short frenzy of motion, a series of strangled screams, and when next I got a look at our enemy, he lay still upon his back. I stared stupidly at the blood-soaked tunic clinging wetly to his chest. Our own men had as much blood spattered on their clothes and hands, but none appeared to be theirs.
    “There’s one will never trouble us again,” Illsman said, grimly swiping a speck of blood off his chin.
    I couldn’t tear my eyes from the lifeless corpse lying in the grass at the outlaw’s feet. The world seemed to be spinning around me. I was vaguely aware of frantic muttering sounds in the background—the terrified priest chanting a desperate prayer. I couldn’t focus on his words, but dropped to my knees and doubled over. My stomach heaved and then I was vomiting my breakfast onto the ground and all over my boots. I wretched until my belly was empty, then as I drew in one deep breath after another, the dizziness subsided and I became aware again of the world around me.
    I saw that Dradac had collapsed to his knees, face drained pale and forehead resting against a tree. Nearby, Illsman was stripping the woodsman’s corpse of weapons and anything of value. Meanwhile, Seirdric and Nib were advancing, blades drawn, on the two remaining strangers. The plump priest stood immobile, eyes squinted tightly closed and face turned