Free the Darkness (King's Dark Tidings Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

he was certain he lacked the long-term social skills
necessary to endure such a position. Furthermore, no one here had ever treated
him with the carefully choreographed illusion of deference that was supposedly
the thing to do amongst nobles.
    Rezkin supposed he could become a spy, but anyone could be a
spy. From what he understood, outworlders valued gold and power more than
anything, and with promises and payment anyone could be bought. Average
commoners made excellent spies because nobles rarely took any notice of
scullery maids and footmen. Of course, what a maid might think was important
information might not be the same as what a merchant or lord thought was
important.
    Well, Rezkin knew he would find out soon enough. He did not
have the time to ponder his purpose now, so he pushed it to the back of his
mind. “Masters, when will I be leaving, and will any of you be coming with me?”
    “There is one task you must complete before you leave,
Rezkin,” Master Jaiardun solemnly stated. The master’s dark eyes bored into his
own, and Rezkin realized for the first time that he was no longer looking up at
the master. In fact, he might even have been looking slightly down.
    Master Jaiardun was a tall man at a few inches over six
feet. Now, his shoulders slightly stooped with age but he was no less imposing.
His hair, once dark, had thinned so that he was now completely bald on top, and
grey and silver strands hung long from the sides past his shoulders. He wore
the same brown short robe with grey tunic and pants that Rezkin donned every
day. Today, Master Jaiardun wore a sword at his hip.
    Both masters were considered Masters of the Blade, but
Jaiardun rarely carried one. In fact, several of the strikers were
Swordmasters. All of the strikers were required to be masters of at least one Skill ,
and several were masters of two or three. Strikers Farson and Adona were each
masters of five Skills , which was the most of any of the strikers.
Still, none of them were masters of all of the Skills like Rezkin.
    Rezkin had been told to come to the courtyard fully armed.
It was an unusual request. Of course, Rezkin always had weapons secreted about
his person unless he was told otherwise, but he was expected to know how to
make anything a weapon, even mundane objects such as a comb or drying cloth.
For years he had been trained in the knowledge that he was the true
weapon, and he could forgo any other accouterments, needing only his own body
and mind to prevail.
    Rezkin bowed slightly, “What would you have me do, Master?”
    Master Jaiardun held his gaze and said, “Now, you will kill
the strikers.”
    There were several gasps and shouts as strikers leapt back.
Steal sang as swords were drawn all around. The hairs on Rezkin’s neck pricked,
and he spun to the side just as a dagger shot through the air where he had been
standing. The quaking of battle energy abruptly surged through him. He had to
get to a more advantageous position. The masters had set him up in the worst
position possible when they surrounded him with his opponents. He had no idea
why he was supposed to kill the strikers, and it really did not matter. The
masters had said it was so, and he must obey. It was a moot point, though,
since now that the strikers knew his objective, they would do everything in
their power to prevent him from accomplishing it. The strikers were now trying
to kill him .
    Rezkin launched two throwing knives ahead of him at the two
strikers who were blocking his escape. One of the knives was deflected when the
striker on the right caught it with his blade, but the other sunk deeply into
the shoulder of the striker on the left. Rezkin had known these men all his
life. They had been his trainers and sparring partners as long as he could
remember. Of course, he knew their names, but his training told him to put all
personal considerations aside. The strikers were no longer men. They were
targets – targets that were equally trying to kill