The Path to Loss (Approaching Infinity Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

reduced to this. He might just be able to subject Ialo—his feet, anyway—to a spray of vomit. That was, of course, if he was lucky.
    Stoakes blinked hard and as the moments passed, he began to regain some of his strength. His head cleared and the nausea passed. He steadied himself and allowed more of his strength to return, all the while feigning continued illness. Forty-two seconds had passed since Stoakes lost the Suicide Knife. He realized that he had all the strength that he was going to since most of it was being turned over in Ialo’s hands. He had to get the Knife back. Somehow he was certain that retrieving the Knife would restore him. Otherwise, he would be dead already from the Knife’s departure from his system. No Shade survived the true loss of his or her Artifact. It simply wasn’t possible.
    Stoakes continued to pretend at being sick, and at losing his footing, but this was a ruse to move as close to Ialo as possible. His legs could still support his weight under twenty-five standard gravities, which made him formidable, even without his Artifact. As he moved, he made a show at trying to support himself with his right hand upon his knee, but his hand slipped off clumsily into a position close to Ialo’s right foot. With a speed Ialo could hardly believe, Stoakes was rising, his two-fingered Secret Sword fist sweeping up, threatening to cut him in two along a whistling diagonal.
    Though terrifically startled, Ialo was fairly used to being attacked by his betters. He leapt back with reflexes not entirely his own while projecting his Shield forward.
    Ialo’s Shield was quite a bit faster than Yosen’s had been, issuing forth and filling a decent percentage of the treasure room. Stoakes had watched Ialo as he was sucked into the coalescing image of the beast that had come out of him. It was as if they had switched places.
    Stoakes stared up at the reptilian monster above him as it bobbed in the air on lazy leather wings the color and luster of lead. He had seen many things in his long life, but never a living, breathing dragon. Dragons, in all their varieties, were as mythical to the Viscain as they were to all the civilizations they’d conquered. It was likely not natural, but there it was. It looked as though it were covered in thick scales of lead. Its body was at least thirty meters long, not including the tail, and was somewhat bottom heavy. Stoakes guessed that it was ten meters broad at the shoulders, probably fifteen at the haunches where it was thickest. Its head was a great triangle with spines continuing the backward angles in lieu of or as protection for ears. Its teeth were also like lead, sharp and shiny as if pinched and sheared to points. Only the eyes broke the beast’s color scheme. These were yellow eggs with black vertical slits and myriad lids that blinked from different directions, though only the outermost were opaque.
    “Do you still wish to fight?” the dragon said with Ialo’s voice.
    “You stole from me. I will have what’s mine. Besides, I’d planned to kill you, anyway.”
    Ialo threw his head back in laughter, which shook the chamber. “I know that this is what enabled you to turn into the black cloud. Without this,” he said raising the Suicide Knife caught between two thick talons, “what can you do?”
    “Ask your man Yosen. You’ve taken my Knife, but you can’t use it. Not as you are now, anyway. Am I right?” Stoakes cried. Stoakes leapt straight for Ialo with agility and strength that surprised him. Iaolo tried to move back and swat at Stoakes with his left claw, the one that was empty, but he couldn’t prevent Stoakes, arms moving in sweeping circles, from passing over his head.
    A spattering line of red surfaced diagonally upon Ialo’s right eyeball, and another horizontally across his left as Stoakes alighted upon the dragon’s back briefly before leaping back down to the floor. He had to leap again to avoid being crushed by Ialo as he dropped like a