The Dusk Watchman: Book Five of The Twilight Reign by Tom Lloyd Read Free Book Online

ear, the mark of the Brotherhood, but this enlarged version looked oddly out of place. The skin was red and blistered and painful to the touch, just as any burn would be.
    Isak began to laugh, awkwardly at first, as though only slowly remembering exactly how to do it. The big white-eye stood up as Hulf ran to his side and jumped up, his front paws resting on Isak’s thigh. Still laughing, Isak ran the fingers of his right hand through the dog’s thick fur while with his left he pushed back the hood of his cloak and let the garment fall open.
    ‘Isak?’ Mihn said quietly.
    The white-eye turned to him with a broad smile that had been entirely absent since even before his death. ‘Think of it as a tradition,’ Isak explained, and Mihn gave a cough that was akin to amusement.
    Doranei frowned, a shadow of memory stirring. Had he heard something about this, when Mihn first linked himself to Isak? There was something about the connection it made between them – hadn’t Mihn, while his scar was still raw and sensitive, been able to feel something of Isak’s pain?
    ‘My grave thieves and ghosts,’ Isak announced to the moor at large, turning as he spoke, ‘welcome.’ And before anyone could respond, he jammed his thumbnail hard enough into his own scar to draw blood. All around him men howled, but it only made Isak and Mihn laugh all the harder.

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 3
     
     
     
     
    Ruhen stood at the window and looked down over Byora. Smoke drifted on the breeze from the armoury where the Menin garrison had been stationed. Even from his high position the boy could sense the activity and turmoil going on below. He could smell the sour tang of fear like a perfume on the wind, but this morning it couldn’t stir pleasure in his ancient, immortal soul.
    As the shadows of his true self raced over the whites of his eyes, Ruhen let his thoughts slowly settle into order. It had been a shock, to be surprised like that. Such a thing happened only rarely in thousands of years. Even rarer, he had underestimated his enemy. Azaer had always been a being of weakness, avoiding direct conflict and keeping to the dark, lonely places where it had been born.
    The King of Narkang possessed a rare mind: still beautifully human, and yet surpassing most Azaer had ever encountered. They had both found the enmity between them, the decades of something approaching intimacy and fascination, had driven them and spurred them to heights they would never have reached alone. Exactly how King Emin had managed this latest feat, this commanding of Gods and crippling of a warrior without equal, Azaer could not guess – but what mattered was the price he had paid.
    Was that Emin’s desperate last move? If so, he would come to regret it. Whatever strength he might have left, he had only improved Azaer’s hand for when the final cards were played.
    The door opened behind him, but Ruhen didn’t turn. He knew it was Ilumene returning.
    ‘Looks like you were right; ain’t a Menin alive left in Byora.’
    ‘With so much fear, they needed someone to blame.’
    Ilumene settled into a chair behind Ruhen and dumped his boots heavily on a delicate table that promptly splintered under the force. ‘Fucking insects that they are: something surprises or unsettles ’em and all they want is someone to hurt.’
    As though highlighting his point the big soldier drew a thin dagger from his boot and began to deftly slide it over the scars on his left hand, just breaking the skin enough to make the runic shapes well bloodily up.
    ‘I’ve sent every man we got onto the streets to break some heads – most of the Byoran Guard are as bewildered as the rest of the quarter, so they’re glad to have orders to follow. Means they don’t think about having a name stolen out their heads.’
    ‘That has always fascinated me,’ Ruhen said, turning to Ilumene, ‘the need to be busy, the desperation for purpose. I have done nothing but watch a tomb for decades at a time.