Lords Of The Dark Fall - Fabian Read Online Free PDF Page B

didn’t.
    “I have nothing to sing about. When can you organise a mage for me?”
    “Look around, Fabian. Do I look as if I can afford the services of a mage?”
    Unfortunately, she spoke the truth. His first glance had warned him she was not a woman of means.
    “You must have something you can sell.”
    “Whoa. Hold it just there. Give me one good reason why I should put myself out for you?”
    “More riches than you could ever imagine,” he replied, gazing absently out of the window at the flag-stoned yard and meadows beyond. “Help me return to my own world, and you will be well rewarded.”
    “Well,” she said, dropping the dough into a warmed bowl. “Now you’re talking. What’s all this about your world? You’re from the Bartain province in the north, right? I’ve heard they keep their hair short, like yours. Or was it stolen?”
    What should he tell her? It sounded fantastic even to his own ears.
I fell for a thousand years down a pit that cycled through dimensions and time. This is where I landed.
    “Not exactly. But I do need to return home. Where will I find a mage?”
    “They’re all operating underground now or controlled by one gang or another. How’s the arm?”
    “It will mend.” The words almost came out as a question. Past battle wounds had healed with him barely noticing. How mortals healed, he had no idea.
    “Only a mage can get me home.”
    “Are you going to tell me why?”
    “A primitive such as you would not comprehend.”
    “Hey!” A splat of soft dough hit him on the cheek.
    “Primitive is a relative thing. Just because I don’t have much, it doesn’t mean I’m lacking in the brain-cells’ department.”
    “I never said you lacked intelligence. Merely that you lived like a primitive. I need clothing. I do not think a horse blanket is proper attire for the…” he stopped himself. What would he do if the leader of a powerful clan suddenly turned up at his doorstep, bewildered and injured and declaring his identity to all? “I do not think a horse blanket is proper attire. Show me what you have. I need to make my way to the nearest settlement.”
    “Okay. Okay. Hold the horses.”
    “Do I look like the kind of man who would bother himself holding horses?” As with most females, Tig talked mostly gibberish. Fabian turned back to the window to regroup. This was a game they must play on her terms, for now. He murmured a short prayer of thanks that this woman had found him, rather than the marauding war-bands of which she had spoken.
    “Who are you, Fabian? Where did you come from?” He felt her hand, gentle on his shoulder. Her warm breath against his back. Her boldness, the way she approached and addressed him, without prior leave, was oddly exciting. But it also made him feel vulnerable.
    “A war-lord,” he said at length. Best couch it in terms she would understand. Not too far from the truth. “Taken as hostage. After a long and noble struggle,” he added.
    “Of course,” Tig murmured in words that lacked her usual sarcasm. Her hand was warm on his flesh. He tensed to stop himself leaning into its comforting embrace.
    “Naturally, I escaped. Killing most of my captors. And then you found me. They put a forgetfulness spell on me. I need a mage to help me remember where home is.”
    Soft lips touched his shoulder blade. Or did he imagine that?
    “You don’t have to pretend with me,” Tig said. “The strongest of men will find themselves wrong-footed at some time in their lives. I can’t promise you a mage. But I will do all I can to help you to return home.”
    “That pleases me.” He turned to her and fingered a lock of fair, greasy hair. “You would be quite passable if you took more care of yourself. Beautiful, even. Do you not wish to be attractive to men?”
    “A compliment?” Tig arched her brows and deftly flicked the hair from his fingers. “Where I come from, attractive women are raped and taken as plunder. Or raped and held for ransom. Do