The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two Read Online Free PDF Page B

appear. “I’m worried, about father and about Dhasson. I’m too far away to do anything, and besides, we’ve got more than our share of problems here. Between his report of strange goings-on in Dhasson and Davin’s stories of what he saw on the road, I have to think that it’s more than just the Shanthadura Black Robes trying to revive the worship of a long-forgotten goddess. It’s too close to what you heard from the Spirit Guides, about something disturbing enough to upset even the Dread andthe Nachele. I don’t look forward to going up against a power that has the Dread worried.”
    Pevre nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. I’ve spent my life riding these barrows, and more than once, I wondered whether the whole thing was just a myth. After all, the Dread haven’t stirred in a thousand years, and generations of Sworn have ridden from one end of the barrows to the other time after time without anything noteworthy ever happening. But now…” His voice drifted off and he looked up at the star-lit sky. “Now, I’m afraid I have the answer I was looking for, and it’s one I’d have rather done without.” He looked from Jair to Talwyn. “It’s late, and there’s no telling what morning will bring. Best you get some sleep while you can, before Kenver wakes you up at dawn.”
    When Jair and Talwyn reached their tent, the fire inside was banked and the embers cast a dim light around the interior of their
gar
, the portable circular dwelling that the Sworn called home. Jair could just make out Kenver’s sleeping form underneath the woven blankets. The tent smelled of incense, and Jair guessed that Talwyn had scattered some herbs and scented wood in the fire before they left.
    As if seeing them for the first time, Jair took stock of the painted images and symbols drawn on the interior of the dwelling’s cloth walls, and of the crystals and talismans that hung from the support poles. Despite Talwyn’s position as cheira and chief’s daughter, their home was nearly identical to those of the rest of the Sworn. For all the years Jair had ridden with the Sworn, he had never fully thought about the paintings and talismans beyondtheir value in teaching the nomadic people’s history to the children of the tribe. Now, after hearing Davin’s story and reading Harrol’s letter, Jair wondered about the protective nature of the decorations, and whether the markings, passed down from parent to child across generations, harkened back to more dangerous times.
    Kenver did not stir as Jair and Talwyn settled into their bed. Jair closed his eyes, enjoying the night sounds outside the
gar
. The sounds mingled with the scent of burning embers and incense, and Jair sank into the comfort of the sensations, wishing once again that he could remain on the Ride forever. None of the comforts of Dhasson’s palace ever made him feel as much at home as he did on the Ride, and each year, the months slipped by too quickly, until it was time for his return to the palace city.
The war might be more adventure than you bargained for
, he reminded himself silently, and he inched closer to Talwyn, who was already asleep. Tired as he was, worries about the war would have to wait, and Jair drifted off to sleep.
    He awoke with a start, unsure of what had awakened him. By habit, his hand fell to the pommel of his
stelian
in the scabbard that lay next to the bed. Nothing stirred in the darkness of the tent, and the glow from the banked embers was nearly gone. Across the way, Jair could make out Kenver’s form, assuring himself that Kenver was still where he had been candlemarks before. Jair reached out to rouse Talwyn, and he withdrew his hand with a gasp.
    Talwyn’s body was cool. Jair shook her, swallowing back rising fear, but Talwyn did not rouse. She grimaced in pain, as if about to scream, but no sound came from her, even as Jair shook harder. Talwyn’s hands were fisted,and her body was rigid. Fresh gashes, like claw marks, raked