Shadows of Time: Shadow Maiden Read Online Free PDF Page B

fire had died down to sickening blue
embers. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. He could
taste the bitter, metallic taste of old magic teasing him in the
air.
    “Chief?” The Phookan soldiers were cowering
behind the tent, wide-eyed and panting.
    “You cowards, I’ll have your heads stuffed
for this!” He spat his disgust, raising the menacing weapon high
above his head.
    “We… my, my Lord, we were outnumbered!
Clearly outnumbered! PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!” Maggot squirmed on his
belly like a worm before a hungry bird.
    “Quiet, you wretch! The only reason I haven’t
killed you is because you’re my damn sister’s son. A blood quarrel
with the likes of her is the last thing I need! However,” he
reached down and grabbed him by horns, yanking him upright, “that
won’t stop me from telling her you died in battle, like a good
soldier should!”
    “My Lord, he’s telling the truth, he is.”
Fanger bowed before the enraged Phooka, his hands open and exposed
in the ultimate sign of weakness. “We were rendered powerless by
dark magic. Whatever it is, it’s waiting for your arrival. It says
it has a message for you.”
    Chief Al’Rul snorted his disapproval, however
his grip loosened on his nephew’s horns, dropping him back on the
ground. Maggot lolled on the ground, euphoric that he would be
alive to enjoy his next meal. The Chief rolled his eyes at the
sight and pointed his mace at Fanger, using it to raise his chin to
look him in the eyes.
    “Show me where this bastard is,” his eyes
burned into the lesser Phooka’s skull, “so I can show you how a
true warrior acts.”
     
     
    ***
     
     
    “Your master seems to be taking his time.
This simply will not do.” Luthen picked at Lestel’s teeth, both
bored with the current lack of destruction and disgusted that an
elf would leave bits of food trapped in his mouth like a common
dwarve.
    The Phooka before him was twisted and
disjointed, suspended in midair like a dandelion seed on a lazy
summer breeze. Luthen had perched his new body on the lowest branch
of a nearby tree. With a flick of the wrist, the Phooka was
convulsing and thrashing about, gurgling howls of pain. The fleshy
pops and cracks of tendons and ligaments ripping from their place
were music to his ears.
    You hear that, Lestel? That’s the sound of a
good time.
    The rest of the war party were scattered
about, trembling behind bushes and quivering in the shadows. Luthen
stroked his chin, deliberating which one should go next. The
crashing of heavy boots broke him from his amusement.
    A tall, broad-shouldered Phooka burst through
the underbrush brandishing a jagged black mace. “DEMON! I am Chief
Al’Rul, greatest warrior of the Phooka. I am here for your
head!”
    “So glad that you could join me,” Luthen
said, fluttering down from his branch, arms outstretched, with a
smile too big and eyes too empty to be alive.
    The Chief huffed great clouds of steam from
his flaring nostrils. His amber eyes blazed in the darkness. He
twirled his gigantic mace as if it weighed nothing, his blackened
biceps shining with beads of sweat mingling in glossy dark fur.
Matted hair hung in clumps over his jet black face, his large
goat-like ears twitching in the tingling anticipation before a
fight. He lowered his head, exposing his long, glinting horns,
challenging his prey.
    Luthen watched the Chief in awe, a child
admiring the mechanics of a new toy.
    The Phooka charged, roaring and gnashing his
large, flashing teeth, the very ground quaking beneath each stomp
of his boots. He raised the mace high above his head, now only a
few feet from his prey. Suddenly, his muscles tensed, stopping him
dead in his tracks. Luthen smiled, extending his arm far enough to
place a mere finger on the Chief’s chest, toppling him over into a
defeated pile of flesh. The Phooka’s body twitched, but nothing
more. Only his eyes were left to move as they pleased, searching
the darkness for vengeance.
    Luthen bent