Beyond the Edge of Dawn Read Online Free PDF Page B

the drunk’s words for granted. Men like that were always looking to improve their own station at the expense of others. Therdin wouldn’t have divulged such knowledge without the whisper of promise, whether from Kavan or someone else. It wouldn’t have surprised him if the drunk had been put up to it for some personal gain Kavan wasn’t privileged too. It was a sad fact he’d witnessed too many times.
    Regardless, Kavan abandoned the wasted thoughts occupying his mind. Therdin was in the past, an already fading dimension not worthy of remembrance. What little he had offered threatened to grow stagnant if Kavan failed to act quick enough.
    Southeast.
    Kavan glanced across the frozen hills towards the unseen horizons. He knew that imposing mountain ranges lay ahead, filled with rivers and danger. Beyond that was the great Jebel Desert, an endless sea of golden sands filling the middle of Malweir. He reached down to give his horse a reassuring pat on the neck. Having bore him through battle and travel, the steed was as much a part of the knight as his sword.
    “Come friend. We must go in search of even older friends. The desert calls,” he whispered.
    His horse snickered and began to plod ahead. There was yet many weeks of travel before reaching the near western fringes.

FIVE
    Poor Timing
    Hours blended into days. Days into long stretches of seemingly indeterminable time that only a Gaimosian Knight could endure without fracture realities. Kavan and his ever faithful horse continued on, ever east in search of the closest Gaimosians. Deep snow drifts gradually gave way to jagged cliffs and mountain peaks rising high into the clouds.
    With only a silent horse for company, Kavan struggled with that ever present, if expertly hidden, desire to rethink old problems. Thoughts of what he might say, how he might react upon reuniting with old friends troubled him to no end. He hadn’t seen another Gaimosian in years, much less the one he had sensed through the bond. While not the warm-hearted friends lesser men might otherwise be, Kavan felt a closeness that could only come from sharing intense moments in death laced combat. To even consider working with his old mentor again after so many years was a conflict of emotions he wasn’t entirely prepared to deal with. Fortunately the weather was able to sooth his aching mind.
    Over the course of his travels he’d shed the heavy fur cloaks and now found genuine sweat making his skin clammy. Any grievance of the cold or penetrating winds of deep winter he might have bore were cast aside in favor of new disagreements over the humid nature of the lands bordering the desert. At some point since heading east Kavan came to the conclusion that, though he enjoyed winter most, he didn’t particularly enjoy trudging through six foot high snowdrifts or going leagues out of his way due to the unexpected avalanche.
    He rode into the border town shortly before dusk. Already his nerves were on edge. Having been here before, and somewhat loath to repeat the experience, Kavan came in expecting a fight. Not that there was anything special about this out of the way, virtually forgotten part of the world, but he’d been in several just like it and they were all the same. Searching the past, he recalled having to kill two men on his last stay.
    No doubt the past was doomed to repeat.
    “Folks around here don’t much care for your type,” a grizzled voice snapped as Kavan tethered his horse outside the lone inn.
    Winds howled down the road as if answering the challenge.
    Kavan’s head dipped slightly and his hand dropped to his sword. This took less time than he expected. “Folks need to mind their own business.”
    “Gaimosians seem to draw a crowd. Best you climb back in that saddle and head out, boy.”
    Turning, Kavan readied for the inevitable fight. Braggarts were good for little else than skewering with a blade, at least as far as his experience went. No doubt he’d make quick work of this