Blood on Bronze (Blood on Bronze Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

street. They slept off their drinking on any handy bit of softer-looking
rubbish, and in doing so guarded or at least hid that spot from more observant
eyes, the eyes of those with occupations like hers. If one was there at the
moment, she’d move on to the next cache. No worries this early in a night’s
work!
    There WAS
someone there, but not like anyone she’d have expected!
    A young man, not
much older than herself, sat there asleep with knees folded and his back
against the wall. He was in the remains of what once would have been some very,
very nice robes. He was filthy, but the filth looked recent and he didn’t
smell. In fact, under it all, and even from a few feet away, she could detect
perfume. For all its disarray, his wild hair looked like it had been washed and
oiled at some point in the recent past. In his lap, dropped from a loose hand,
was a very fine engraved bronze sword. Red stones studded the pommel and hilt.
On a finger of that loose hand was a perfectly fitted signet ring of bronze,
and on his half-bare chest was a heavy bronze amulet, carved with strange
symbols.
    Who was he?
    Or, even more
importantly, would he wake up if she reached for the sword?
    She stepped
forward and leaned over him, far more tentatively than usual. Her hands reached
toward the sword. This close, she noticed the spiced scent of him and saw the
dark heavy lashes of his eyes.
    They fluttered,
and opened.
    Too late and too
hastily, she pulled back! Her feet skittered and slipped as he rose with
lightning speed, the sword in his hand.
    ~
    Arjun woke from
dreams of death and endless cold darkness to see a beautiful girl before his
eyes. The sun had not yet risen, and for a brief instant he thought he was
still dreaming. Then, she pulled back and drew her hand with a slender gleam of
obsidian.
    He started awake
and rose to his feet with all the speed natural grace could muster. Dream or
not, sleeping through the arrival of an obsidian dagger might mean he’d never
wake up! He raised his sword and pointed it at her.
    Then he got a
better look.
    She was around
his age, or more likely a year or two younger, of average height, with a bare
slender waist, rounded hips and high full breasts. She wore a light slip of a
kilt around her hips, hitched up a bit too short for decency, at least as most
people saw it, and had a band of decorated cloth around her neck and across her
chest in common Zakran fashion. She had dark flashing eyes, full lips, and
black hair in braids down to the small of her back. He decided she was one of
the most beautiful girls he’d ever seen.
    She also had
that obsidian dagger, drawn and at the ready.
    “Are you done
staring at me?” she said.
    “My apologies,”
he replied, “You startled me. Thank you for trying to help, I am sorry I
frightened you.”
    She looked at
him, momentarily wide-eyed. “Ah… help. Yes, of course, I, um, was worried you
might be injured. You aren’t the sort of man I usually see around here. And…
who are you anyway?”
    “I am Arjun dra
Artashad,” then he remembered he would be a fool to go by his true name now,
“But… you may call me Sharur.”
    Her expression
changed from surprise to what might be quizzical skepticism.
    “dra Artashad?
DRA you say! Of the lineage of Artashad? Well good morning, eh… my lord.” she
said with a tone that started sarcastically, but then trailed off in
uncertainty.
    She then
appeared to work up her curiosity, and asked “What does Sharur mean?”
    “Hunter, in old
Hayyidi,” he replied, “but what is your name?”
    “Inina, of the
lineage of no one.”
    “I am honored to
meet you, Inina,” he said with a solemn expression and a small nod.
    She smiled, but
there was confusion in her eyes.
    “Honored? I
can’t remember the last time someone was honored to meet me! I think I’m
starting to believe your name. What are you doing out here on the streets?”
    “Nothing I can
speak of now.”
    “Then go home,
because you’re going to