Rise of the Seventh Moon: Heirs of Ash, Book 3 by Rich Wulf Read Free Book Online Page B

recognized his name.
    They hadn’t spoken to Eraina very long, but nonetheless he thought he had a pretty good gauge of them. Knights of Thrane were a little better trained than the average soldier, but they were the same as any young soldiers. They usually fell into one of three categories—those who fought, those who panicked, and those who waited. Arthen thought he’d had them pegged.
    Aden, the one he had hit with the bottle, was a typical hothead. He’d entered the knighthood for the thrill. He was ready and eager for violence. He had probably never seen any fighting during the Last War. Predictably, Aden drew his sword first so Arthen hadtaken him out quickly with as little violence as possible before the situation escalated.
    Knocking out Aden had the added benefit of throwing Nialin, the youngest of the three knights, into a state of panic. When Aden went down Nialin didn’t even think to defend himself; instead he fell back to make sure his friend wasn’t seriously injured.
    That left only Rane, the leader. He had faced Zed calmly, waiting for him to make a mistake. Zed had planned to finish out his drunken tantrum and stagger into an alley, ranting against the knights and the Last War. Zed figured Rane would let him go, expecting he could quickly catch up to an exhausted drunk. Then, once out of sight, Zed would have discarded the charade and ran for it.
    Zed realized too late that Rane wasn’t watching him at all, and the mistake he was waiting for had already been made. Rane’s eyes were locked on something behind Zed. When the inquisitive peered over his shoulder to see what was happening, he saw several members of the watch moving up quickly with their cudgels drawn. One struck him hard across the face. Then another. Darkness swam over his vision, and he woke up in this cell.
    Footsteps paced the stone floor outside, slowly approaching. A key clanked in the heavy iron lock. The door creaked open, admitting a tall man in the gleaming armor emblazoned with symbols of the Silver Flame. A heavy sword, identical to Zed’s blade, hung behind one shoulder. The knight’s face was stern, weathered by the years, framed by a thin blond beard. His gray eyes glared down at Zed with an unforgiving gaze.
    “I knew you would do something stupid the moment you entered my town, Arthen,” the knight said.
    “Well, that explains how those novices caught me,” Zed said. His heart sank. He had hoped he could leave Nathyrrwithout anyone recognizing him. This would make things a lot more complicated than they needed to be. “How have you been, Sergeant Draikus?”
    “Captain Draikus now,” he said. “And I’ve been joyous. I am always joyous during times of miracles. I had heard you were dead, but here you are, restored to flesh.”
    “Praise be to the Flame!” Zed said wryly.
    “Blasphemy,” the knight said, folding his arms across his chest and glaring down at Zed. “Charming.”
    “It’s only blasphemy if the gods are offended, Draikus,” Zed said. “The Silver Flame stopped listening to anything I say a long time ago.”
    “I am saddened that you appear to believe that,” Draikus replied. “The Flame never abandons its children, Arthen. The Flame watches over all of us—even a failure like you.”
    “You had better hope that isn’t true, Draikus,” Zed said. “If it’s seen the things you’ve done in its name, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”
    Draikus lunged forward, shoving Zed against the wall, pinning him there with an armored gauntlet against his throat. His eyes seethed with hatred, daring Zed to push him further. Zed gave a weak grin.
    “What we did in Vathirond was cruel, but it was necessary,” Draikus said. “The war with Breland had gone too far. Commander Kalaven didn’t deserve what you did to her.”
    “Those priests didn’t deserve what we did to them,” Zed replied.
    Draikus’s voice shook with fury. “If you doubted her honor, you should have faced