Empire of the Worm Read Online Free PDF Page B

yourself a man, you must give this gift yourself.” He stared
Davril hard in the eye and said, “Can you do it?”
    “If I do not?”
    The Emperor did not blink. “Qazradan
will wither.”
    “This is evil, Father. I cannot give this thing her soul .”
    The Emperor had his answers ready. “How
can it be evil if it keeps the Empire flourishing?”
    “Sacrificing Alyssa is evil!”
    “ An evil, perhaps. But the withering of the realm would be the
greater evil. Please, Davril, for the good of Qazradan . . . strike!”
    “No!” Alyssa cried. “You’re mad,
all of you!”
    Davril ground his teeth. His gaze
never left his father’s. “This is why Urai didn’t come back, isn’t it? He refused .”
    The Emperor dropped his gaze. “That
was a black day. And it was I that
had to deliver Urai’s beloved. Don’t make me deliver Alyssa, Davril. Give her
yourself to the Great One. Accept His blessing, and join us.” He stared Davril
hard in the eye. “Will you do this?”
    Davril made himself pause for a long
moment, tense, then let out a breath.
    “I can,” he said. “I will.”
    His father relaxed.
    Alyssa screamed.
    Davril gripped that dagger so tightly
his knuckles turned white, and without hesitation he struck.
    He plunged the cold steel deep into
his father’s chest. Surprise filled the Emperor’s face. Blood blossomed from
his mouth. Gurgling, he fell away, his hands rising toward his punctured breast.
    Davril lunged toward his nearest
brother, Salbrind, he whom Davril was closest to above all others, and even as
Davril flew he drew his sword. Before Salbrind had time to react, Davril had severed
his throat. Blood sprayed Davril, warm and sticky. He hurtled through it,
bounding up the stairs toward the Altar and the three brothers grouped there.
    Milast had already drawn his sword.
Anger and grief in his face, he reared over Davril at the head of the stairs,
crouched and ready. His was so large he blocked the stairwell, preventing the
other two brothers from attacking.
    Warily, Davril ascended toward him.
    Milast hacked at Davril’s face. Davril
blocked, his arms nearly buckling. Milast thrust at his middle. Davril parried,
sweat flying.
    “Traitor!” Milast cried, pausing in
his attack. “How could you?” Actual tears
leaked from his eyes.
    Using a two-handed grip, he brought
his sword down again to cleave in Davril’s skull. Davril just barely brought
his own blade up in time to deflect the blow, but the force of it drove him to
his knees, nearly knocking the weapon from his hands. As it was, it numbed his
arms to the elbows.
    Before he could recover, Milast
swung again, chopping at Davril’s neck.
    Davril ducked, felt the whoosh of
air over his head. He leapt to his feet while Milast was still swinging and
thrust forward, stabbing Milast through the gut. With a gasp, Milast fell down
the stairs, and Davril stepped around him to gain the summit of the dais.
    His two surviving brothers advanced
toward him.
    One rushed in, sword outstretched
like a spear. Davril merely dodged aside, then rammed his brother with his
shoulder, driving him back and off his feet.
    His second brother, Firhad, hacked
at Davril’s shoulder, but Davril was no longer there when the sword came down. His
blade pierced his brother’s stomach and thrust up, tearing through muscles and
lungs to penetrate the heart. Firhad’s blood sprayed as Davril jerked the blade
free and wheeled to face his first brother, Tranas, just then rising. Davril
stomped down on Tranas’s blade, pinning it to the floor, and stabbed through
Tranas’s throat. Tranas gurgled and twitched, his eyes glaring accusingly up at
Davril. Davril thrust again, this time through the chest, and Tranas’s spasms
ceased.
    Chest heaving, Davril stared at the
carnage about him. He could taste his brothers’ blood in his mouth, feel it
sting his eyes. He stood surrounded by the butchered corpses of his family,
those whom he loved so dearly, their torches guttering on