Mordraud, Book One Read Online Free PDF Page A

in fatigue, sinking into the large white pillow she’d plumped up not much earlier.
    He ’d never been so comfortable in all his life.
    “ Whoever you may be, I thank you from the bottom of my heart...”
    “ Tha ... Thank ...”
    Varno pulled himself up abruptly, but the movement caused him such a sharp stabbing pain in his back that it took his breath away. T he woman helped him settle back again, her face taut in wrinkle-free concern.
    “ Were you trying to say... thank you?”
    “ Thank you ,” she repeated, with a little effort. She had a lovely deep and warm voice. Yes, deep. Unexpectedly so.
    “ What’s... you... name?” Varno asked slowly. “My... name’s... Varno. Varno...” he repeated, pointing to himself several times.
    “ Eglade, ” she answered promptly. Her face melted into a smile. Varno looked in astonishment at the compactness of her skin. Her pores were practically invisible. Not even a hair on her arms. Her expression of joy was pure emotion, translated onto lips he’d never before seen.
    “ Hey, you learn fast! Well, I’ll say... thank you again!”
    “ Thank you... again !”
    ***
    Eglade didn’t only learn swiftly, was the conclusion Varno came to in utter amazement. She was also quick to pick up what he tried to teach her. He simply had to point something out and name it, and she managed to connect it with the other words at disarming speed. In just a few hours, they were able to exchange a few sentences that made sense. And after a mere couple of days she was managing to guess words’ meanings before he explained them. As if she’d already fully grasped the reasoning behind the Cambrian language. Varno couldn’t figure out how it was possible. She seemed far more intelligent than any other person he’d ever met.
    “ What’s your language like?”
    “ Difficult... much more difficult than Khartian ,” Eglade replied as she completed the bandaging on his leg. It was evening, the light of the sunset was filtering in through the small windows prettied with delicate white lace. They’d just finished eating a slightly sweet vegetable soup, which Varno had found delicious.
    “ Khartian... that sounds vaguely familiar...” he mumbled, trying to sift through jumbled memories. He’d heard the word at least once before. “Yes, when I tumbled down that ravine! I heard one of the archers use it... but it was slightly different.”
    “ Perhaps you mean Khartiars?”
    “ That’s it!” Varno burst out. “But what does it mean?!”
    Eglade lowered her gaze in embarrassment. She looked as if she didn’t want to talk about it. Only when he insisted did she try to explain to him what that word really meant.
    “ You’re a Khartian... You say... simply man . Human being. But for us it means people who came across the sea .”
    “ And what does Khartiar mean?” asked Varno, puzzled and disoriented.
    “ It’s an insult. It means people who invaded, ” she murmured.
    “ I don’t get it! What are you talking about? What have we invaded? And who are... you?!”
    “ I’m an Aelian .”
    Varno stretched out his arms in disbelief. “I’ve never heard of you...”
    “ Really?!”
    Varno had never studied. He barely knew how to read and write his own name. The greatest example of culture in the village where he was born and grew up was the collection of songs about the triumphs of the Imperial Lances of Cambria. He knew a few queer stories about peoples of the forests – children’s fairytales brimming with tiny green-clad beings armed with miniature catapults. But he’d never heard talk about the Aelians. Eglade was stunningly beautiful, unsettling in her perfection, but when it came down to it, she could pass for an ordinary woman, if details – such as her copper hair and intense blue eyes – were not lingered on.
    “ There are few, extremely few of us. But we’re not a fairytale,” Eglade replied, with a hint of pride in her glum voice. “We were very important many