Elyon Read Online Free PDF Page B

Johnis paused. “We just have to assume her power before . . .”
    Shaeda cinched her grip on him. Silvie’s eyes narrowed. For a long minute the Leedhan glowered at Silvie through Johnis, and Silvie returned the glare.
    “Johnis. Silvie.”
    Johnis’s hand went for the sword that one of Marak’s men had given him. He and Silvie exchanged glances—no one here knew them by those names. An albino entered—Marak’s slave. She wore a scarf over her head and face. Clanking metal. A length of chain ran between her ankles. Dark eyes searched their faces.
    Darsal .
    Darsal was an albino. An enemy. She would try to stop Shaeda’s plans. Johnis’s plans.
    No, that wasn’t true. Darsal wasn’t the enemy.
    The talons clawed at him. Yes, yes, she will do all to thwart them, should she know . . .
    Silvie scowled, hands falling to her knives. “What do you want?”
    Darsal pushed back her hood, revealing smooth skin painted white with morst. Long, dark hair, braided in Horde fashion.
    “To see you,” she said. Her gaze swept over Silvie, then Johnis. “What . . . happened?”
    “You little leech.” Silvie looked like a viper. “You left us for the Horde.”
    Darsal caught her breath. “I was captured, Silvie,” she said simply. She was working hard not to stare at Johnis. “What is going on?”
    Johnis scowled. His lip curled into a snarl. Shaeda saw albino meat—an enemy that must die.
    Darsal took a step back. “I heard you have a Leedhan. An entity. Very self-indulgent term, if you ask me.”
    “And why would you care?” Silvie demanded.
    Darsal stared Johnis in the face. All he could see was her smooth albino skin covered in white paste, and her rich, dark eyes enhanced by a single scar. She would bleed red.
    Johnis didn’t want Darsal dead. Not now. But she hindered the mission.
    “I saw Gabil,” Darsal said. “And Elyon.”
    Shaeda hissed. Johnis hissed. “You’re lying.”
    “I swear on the books,” Darsal said.
    The books. He wondered if Cassak had located the others yet. Odd that Darsal would make such a vow now.
    Johnis scowled. “You betrayed us.”
    “Johnis . . . trust me.”
    He recoiled. “Why would we listen to a treacherous Shataiki-lover like you?”
    “Because you forgave me! Don’t you remember, Johnis? You saved me.”
    Footsteps echoed in the hall, cutting her short. She glanced over her shoulder. “Remember, Johnis. Elyon—it’s all about Elyon.”
    He bristled at the name.
    Angry shouts and a skirmish in the hall echoed through the door. They all jumped. Johnis and Silvie drew their blades. Darsal hid behind the door.
    The knob turned. Men with tan robes and drawn, crimson-stained swords poured into the room, aiming straight for Johnis. He heard Darsal drop one, unconscious, behind him. Silvie’s knife pinned the next assailant to the wall. A second flashed out. Johnis swung his own blade. Metal grated against metal.
    His attacker sliced into his shoulder. Johnis blocked the next blow and slashed a diagonal arc with enough force to sever the man’s torso.
    Another was on him. Johnis almost lost his balance but used the momentum to spin sideways and catch the man between the ribs.
    Darsal had found someone’s knife and drew an opponent out into the hall. Johnis heard a yelp and a crash and nothing more.
    A blow from behind knocked him flat. He rolled. The assailant struck him in the head. He saw a flashing light and tried not to pass out. Thrust with his sword. It clattered across the hard floor. Johnis kicked.
    His arms were pinned. A knee drove between his shoulder blades. Johnis wrestled loose. Shaeda! He tried to invoke her power.
    Silvie shouted. Someone struck her, and she fell. Silence. Hellish silence. Where had the Leedhan gone . . . ?
    Johnis swept his attacker’s feet from under him and slashed down with his sword. An intruder dove into the hall with an unconscious Silvie over his shoulder. More shouting.
    What should he do?
    The priest. It had to be the priest.