A Realm of Shadows Read Online Free PDF Page B

reaches of the empire, to infertile
land. Now they would take their vengeance for being quarantined behind a wall
of flames, would flood Escalon, tear it to shreds.
    His heart
skipped a beat, giddy at the thought. He could not wait to turn back around, to
cross the Devil’s Finger, to return to the mainland and to meet his people in
the middle of Escalon. The entire troll nation would converge at Andros, and together, one square inch at a time, they would destroy Escalon forever. It
would become the new troll homeland.
    Yet as Vesuvius
stood there, looking down at the waves, the spot where the sword had sunk, something
gnawed at him. He looked out to the horizon, examining the black waters of the Bay of Death, and there was something lingering, something that made his satisfaction incomplete.
As he examined the horizon, far out in the distance, he spotted a single, small
ship with white sails, sailing along the Bay of Death. It sailed west, away
from the Devil’s Finger. And as he watched it go, he knew something was wrong.
    Vesuvius turned
back and looked up at the Tower beside him. It had been empty. Its doors left
open. The Sword had been waiting for him. Those guarding had abandoned it. It
had all been too easy.
    Why?
    Vesuvius knew the
assassin Merk had been pursuing the Sword; he had followed him all the way
across the Devil’s Finger. Why then would he abandon it? Why was he sailing away
from here, across the Bay of Death? Who was that woman sailing with him? Had
she been guarding this tower? What secrets was she hiding?
    And where were
they going?
    Vesuvius looked
down at the steam rising from the ocean, then back up to the horizon, and his
veins burned. He could not help but feel that somehow he had been duped. That a
complete victory had been snatched from him.
    The more
Vesuvius dwelled on it, the more he realized something was wrong. It was all too
convenient. He studied the violent seas below, the waves crashing into the rocks,
the rising steam, and he realized he would never know the truth. He would never
know if the Sword of Flames had truly sunk to the bottom. If there was
something here he was missing. If that had even been the right sword. If the
Flames would stay down, too.
    Vesuvius,
burning with indignation, came to a decision: he had to pursue them. He would
never know the truth until he did. Was there another, secret, tower somewhere? Another
sword?
    Even if there
was not, even if he had accomplished all he needed, Vesuvius was famed for
leaving no victims alive. Ever. He always pursued every last man to his death,
and standing here, watching those two escape from his grasp, did not sit right
with him. He knew he could not just let them go.
    Vesuvius looked
down at the dozens of ships still tied to the shores, abandoned, rocking wildly
in the waves, as if waiting for him. And he came to an immediate decision.
    “To the ships!” he
commanded his army of trolls.
    As one they
scrambled to do his bidding, rushing down to the rocky shore, boarding the
ships. Vesuvius followed, boarding the stern of the final ship.
    He turned, raised
his halberd high, and chopped the rope.
    A moment later
he was off, all the trolls with him, all of them crammed onto ships, and
setting sail on the legendary Bay of Death. Somewhere on the horizon sailed Merk
and that girl. And Vesuvius would not stop, no matter where he had to sail, until
both of them were dead.
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
    Merk gripped the
rail as he stood at the bow of the small ship, the former King Tarnis’s
daughter beside him, each lost in their own world as they were thrown about by
the rough waters of the Bay of Death. Merk stared out at the black waters, windswept,
dotted with whitecaps, and he could not help but wonder about the woman beside
him. The mystery surrounding her had only deepened since they’d left the Tower of Kos, had embarked on this ship to some mysterious place. His mind swam with
questions for her.
    Tarnis’s
daughter. It was