Towers of Midnight by Brandon Robert; Sanderson Jordan Read Free Book Online Page B

something was terribly, terribly wrong. And right, of course. You couldn’t be one without the other. That wouldn’t make sense.
    The creature that had been Mordeth—he would need a new name soon—smiled deeply.
    The Myrddraal turned to run away.
    The mist struck.
    It rolled over the Trollocs, moving quickly, like the tentacles of a leviathan in the Aryth Ocean. Lengths of it snapped forward through Trolloc chests. One long rope whipped above their heads, then shot forward in a blur, taking the Fade in the neck.
    The Trollocs screamed, dropping, spasming. Their hair fell out in patches, and their skin began to boil . Blisters and cysts. When those popped, they left craterlike pocks in the Shadowspawn skin, like bubbles on the surface of metal that cooled too quickly.
    The creature that had been Padan Fain opened his mouth in glee, closing his eyes to the tumultuous black sky and raising his face, lips parted, enjoying his feast. After it passed, he sighed, holding his dagger tighter—cutting his flesh.
    Red below, black above. Red and black, red and black, so much red and black. Wonderful.
    He walked on through the Blight.
    The corrupted Trollocs climbed to their feet behind him, lurching into motion, spittle dropping from their lips. Their eyes had grown sluggish and dull, but when he desired it, they would respond with a frenzied battle lust that would surpass what they had known in life.
    He left the Myrddraal. It would not rise, as rumors said they did. His touch now brought instant death to one of its kind. Pity. He had a few nails he might have otherwise put to good use.
    Perhaps he should get some gloves. But if he did, he couldn’t cut his hand. What a problem.
    No matter. Onward. The time had come to kill al’Thor.
    It saddened him that the hunt must end. But there was no longer a reason for a hunt. You didn’t hunt something when you knew exactly where it was going to be. You merely showed up to meet it.
    Like an old friend. A dear, beloved old friend that you were going to stab through the eye, open up at the gut and consume by handfuls while drinking his blood. That was the proper way to treat friends.
    It was an honor.

    Malenarin Rai shuffled through supply reports. That blasted shutter on the window behind his desk snapped and blew open again, letting in the damp heat of the Blight.
    Despite ten years serving as commander of Heeth Tower, he hadn’t grown accustomed to the heat in the highlands. Damp. Muggy, the air often full of rotting scents.
    The whistling wind rattled the wooden shutter. He rose, walking over to pull it shut, then twisted a bit of twine around its handle to keep it closed.
    He walked back to his desk, looking over the roster of newly arrived soldiers. Each name had a specialty beside it—up here, every soldier had to fill two or more duties. Skill at binding wounds. Swift feet for running messages. A keen eye with a bow. The ability to make the same old mush taste like new mush. Malenarin always asked specifically for men in the last group. Any cook who could make soldiers eager to come to mess was worth his weight in gold.
    Malenarin set aside his current report, weighing it down with the lead-filled Trolloc horn he kept for the purpose. The next sheet in his stack was a letter from a man named Barriga, a merchant who was bringing his caravan to the tower to trade. Malenarin smiled; he was a soldier first, but he wore the three silver chains across his chest that marked him as a master merchant. While his tower received many of its supplies directly from the Queen, no Kandori commander was denied the opportunity to barter with merchants.
    If he was lucky, he’d be able to get this outlander merchant drunk at the bargaining table. Malenarin had forced more than one merchant into a year of military service as penance for entering bargains he could not keep. A year of training with the Queen’s forces often did plump foreign merchants a great deal of good.
    He set that sheet