Mark Lawrence_The Broken Empire 01 Read Online Free PDF Page A

softening.
    â€œJorg,” he said, all full of compassion. Brimming with it, spilling it from his eyes as if it wasn’t just the rain. “What has happened to you?”
    I won’t lie to you. Half of me wanted to stick the knife into him there and then, just as with red-faced Gemt. More than half. My hand itched with the need to pull that knife. My head ached with it, as if a vice were tightening against my temples.
    I’ve been known to be contrary. When something pushes me, I shove back. Even if the one doing the pushing is me. It would have been easy to gut him then and there. Satisfying. But the need was too urgent. I felt pushed.
    I smiled and said, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
    And old Gomsty, though he was stiff from the cage, and sore in every limb, bowed his head to hear my confession.
    I spoke into the rain, low and quiet. Loud enough for Father Gomst though, and loud enough for the dead who haunted the marsh about us. I told of the things I’d done. I told of the things I would do. In a soft voice I told my plans to all with ears to hear. The dead left us then.
    â€œYou’re the devil!” Father Gomst took a step back, and clutched the cross at his neck.
    â€œIf that’s what it takes.” I didn’t dispute him. “But I’ve confessed, and you must forgive me.”
    â€œAbomination . . .” The word escaped him in a slow breath.
    â€œAnd more besides,” I agreed. “Now forgive me.”
    Father Gomst found his wits at last, but still he held back. “What do you want with me, Lucifer?”
    A fair question. “I want to win,” I said.
    He shook his head at that, so I explained.
    â€œSome men I can bind with who I am. Some I can bind with where I’m going. Others need to know who walks with me. I’ve given you my confession. I repent. Now God walks with me, and you’re the priest who will tell the faithful that I am His warrior, His instrument, the Sword of the Almighty.”
    A silence stood between us, measured in heartbeats.
    â€œ Ego te absolvo .” Father Gomst got the words past trembling lips.
    We walked back along the path then, and reached the others by and by. Makin had them lined up and ready. Waiting in the dark, with a single torch, and the hooded lantern hung up on the head-cart.
    â€œCaptain Bortha,” I said to Makin, “time we set off. We’ve got a ways before us till we reach the Horse Coast.”
    â€œAnd the priest?” he asked.
    â€œPerhaps we’ll detour past the Tall Castle, and drop him off.”
    My headache bit, hard.
    Maybe it was something to do with having an old ghost haunt its way through to the very marrow of my bones, but today my headaches felt more like somebody prodding me with a stick, herding me along, and it was really beginning to fuck me off.
    â€œI think we will call in at the Tall Castle.” I ground my teeth together against the daggers in my head. “Hand old Gomsty here over in person. I’m sure my father has been worried about me.”
    Rike and Maical gave me stupid stares. Fat Burlow and Red Kent swapped glances. The Nuban rolled his eyes and made his wards.
    I looked at Makin, tall, broad in the shoulder, black hair plastered down by the rain. He’s my knight , I thought. Gomst is my bishop, the Tall Castle my rook . Then I thought of Father. I needed a king. You can’t play the game without a king. I thought of Father, and it felt good. After the dead one, I’d begun to wonder. The dead one showed me his hell, and I had laughed at it. But now I thought of Father, and it felt good to know I could still feel fear.

7
    We rode through the night and the Lichway brought us from the marsh. Dawn found us at Norwood, drear and grey. The town lay in ruin. Its ashes still held the acrid ghost of smoke that lingers when the fire is gone.
    â€œThe Count of Renar,” said Makin at my side. “He grows bold