Bastion of Darkness Read Online Free PDF

dismissed the song of the witch, and flew on with all speed, angling for the scrambling talon, diving fast and straight.
    The talon saw the terrible shadow, stretching longfrom the east and the rising sun, and shrieked, diving into a roll.
    Calamus swooped by, and Belexus leaped from the mount’s back, scrambling as he landed, with amazing dexterity, and somehow holding his footing. A firmly planted, booted foot promptly stopped the rolling talon, and then a second clamped on its other side, holding it fast. The creature tried to turn about onto its back, to face and defend, and managed it easily enough, for Belexus wanted the talon to see him clearly, to see his rage, to know its doom.
    As the talon turned, the warrior grabbed its spiked club with one hand and tore it free of the talon’s grasp, throwing it far aside. The talon lifted its arms above its face, then moved them in confusion and gave an incredulous stare when the warrior tossed his own sword to the ground.
    Any hope that surprising action might have inspired soon flew from the talon, though, as Belexus reached down and grabbed it by the head, one hand clamped to its chin, the other grabbing fast to a scraggly clump of hair on the back of its head. With a grunt, the powerful ranger lifted the talon to its feet, lifted it right from the ground so that it was looking straight into his piercing blue eyes.
    The creature clawed at the warrior’s cheek. Ignoring the claws, keeping firm his grasp, Belexus drove one hand out and yanked the other in, turning the talon’s head right about on its shoulders. Then he tossed the thing aside and gathered his sword, calling for Calamus.
    He spent a long while waiting, and thought of Andovar. Even the blood of six talons had done little to diminish the pain.
    Finally the winged horse lighted on the field, and Belexus was swift to Calamus’ back, urging him up intothe air and then flying straight off for the deeper boughs of Avalon.
    He was not surprised to find Brielle waiting for him, was not surprised that her look was clearly one of disapproval. Even so, even with a pout upon her face, and even with Belexus in so foul a mood, he could not deny her beauty. Her golden hair hung far down her delicate back, a wild and untamed mane, and her eyes shone greener than the emerald wizard’s mark set in her forehead. Brielle was the shining day to her daughter Rhiannon’s alluring night, and either of them could fell a man with a look, tearing his heart so completely that he would spend a long time retrieving his strength.
    “And yet again, ye let the rage take ye,” the witch said, her voice calm and even, and not overtly accusatory.
    Belexus understood that tone completely, knew that Brielle was not really judging him, but was, rather, subtly forcing him to judge himself. That trial, both of them knew well, would prove far worse to the proud ranger’s reckoning.
    “I slay talons,” he replied firmly after a moment of thought and a deep sigh. “That is me lot in life.”
    “Ayuh, and a good one it might be,” Brielle answered. “It’s the way ye do it that’s got me so worried.”
    “I’m not for denying me pleasure at me tasks,” the ranger said, and turned away. “With each talon that falls dead to the ground, the world, by me own estimation, is a bit better a place.”
    “Ayuh,” the witch honestly agreed. “And so ye should be cutting the beasties down. But if ye let the rage take ye, if ye’re thinking about what was, and not what is, then ye’re losing yerself, me friend, and worse, ye’re liken to make a mistake that’ll cost ye yer own neck.”
    “Not to a talon,” the ranger spat sarcastically. Brielle’s words had stung Belexus profoundly, particularly herreference to “what was”—her reference, Belexus understood, to Andovar. She knew Belexus so well, too well—knew even his thoughts. Was he that transparent, he wondered, or was Brielle just so damned perceptive?
    “There be darker things