The Skull Throne Read Online Free PDF

“A demon?”
    The Par’chin smiled. “Do you know what my people call you?”
    The demon of the desert. Jardir had heard the name many times, though only in the Hollow did any dare speak it openly. He nodded.
    “Your people are fools, Par’chin, as are you if you think me the same as the alagai. You may not murder and you may not rape, but neither have you forged unity. Your Northern dukes bicker and vie for power even as the abyss opens up before them, ready to spew forth Nie’s legions. Nie does not care about your morals. She does not care who is innocent and who is corrupt. She does not even care for Her alagai . Her goal is to wipe the slate clean.
    “Your people live on borrowed time, Par’chin. Loaned to you against the day of Sharak Ka, when your weakness will leave them meat for the Core. Then you will have wished for a thousand murders, a thousand thousand, if that’s what it took to prepare you for the fight.”
    The Par’chin shook his head sadly. “You’re like a horse with blinders on, Ahmann. You see what supports your beliefs, and ignore the rest. Nie doesn’t care because She doesn’t ripping exist. ”
    “Words do not make a thing so, Par’chin,” Jardir said. “Words cannot kill alagai or make Everam cease to be. Words alone cannot unite us all for Sharak Ka before it is too late.”
    “You talk of unity, but you don’t understand the meaning of the word,” the Par’chin said. “What you call unity I call domination. Slavery.”
    “Unity of purpose, Par’chin,” Jardir said. “All working toward one goal. Ridding the Ala of demonkind.”
    “There is no unity, if it depends on one man alone to hold it,” the Par’chin said. “We are all mortal.”
    “The unity I have brought will not be so easily cast aside,” Jardir said.
    “No?” Arlen asked. “I learned much during my visit to Everam’s Bounty, Ahmann. The Northern dukes have nothing on your people. Your dama will not follow Jayan. Your Sharum will not follow Asome. None of the men will follow Inevera, and your Damaji would as soon kill one another as eat at the same table. There is no one who can sit the throne without civil war. Your precious unity is about to crumble away like a palace made of sand.”
    Jardir felt his jaw tighten. His teeth whined as he ground them. The Par’chin was correct, of course. Inevera was clever and could hold things together for a time, but he could not afford to be gone for long, or his hard-forged army would turn on itself with Sharak Ka only just begun.
    “I am not dead yet,” Jardir said.
    “No, but you won’t be returning anytime soon,” the Par’chin said.
    “We shall see, Par’chin.” Without warning, Jardir reached out through the crown, Drawing hard on the Par’chin’s magic. Caught off guard, the Par’chin’s aura exploded in shock, then distorted as Jardir hauled in the prize.
    Power rushed through Jardir’s body, knitting muscle and bone, making him strong. With a flex, the bandages around his chest ripped and the plaster about his legs shattered. He sprang from the bed, crossing the room in an instant.
    The Par’chin managed to get his guard up in time, but it was a Sharum’s guard, for he had not been trained in Sharik Hora. Jardir easily slipped around it and caught him in a submission hold. The Par’chin’s face reddened as he struggled for air.
    But then he collapsed into mist, as he had in their battle on the cliff. Jardir overbalanced when the resistance ended, but the Par’chin reformed before he hit the floor, grabbing Jardir’s right arm and leg, throwing him across the room. He struck the window so hard even his magic-strengthened bones snapped, but the warded glass did not so much as crack.
    There was a thin flow of magic on the surface of the wards, and Jardir instinctively Drew on it, using the power to mend his bones even before the pain set in.
    The Par’chin vanished from across the room, appearing in close, but Jardir was wise to the