The Tomb of the Dark Paladin Read Online Free PDF Page A

not, could not, relent. He had his foe subdued, and by honor the Prince of Angels should offer quarter to the enemy and accept his surrender. 
    Crystoph was not a merciless warrior, and truly felt bound by honor to offer surrender to a subdued foe. For this reason it pained him greatly to finish this enemy without mercy. But the dire circumstances forced Crystoph to forgo the tradition of the Cjii. This enemy must die.  As his foe weakened, the spell he had used to lock the Tides from Crystoph failed and the prince felt warm energy coursing through him again. 
    "I surrender! I surrender!" whimpered the Cjii, as he dropped his weapon and thrashed against the excruciating pain lancing through his helm. 
    "I am sorry, for what that's worth," he said channeling the Tides for his next spell. "But I cannot accept your surrender."
    Eyes deep within the helm widened and Crystoph had to steel himself against the agony and fear he saw in those eyes. They were the eyes of a fellow Cjii, even if that Cjii served the wayward Q'raz. Aside from the perverse and malformed demon Cjii that served Umber, most of the Cjii felt a kinship if not a friendship. There was a code of honor that dictated the way the Cjii interacted with each other and with mortals. 
    But that code had been broken by the Cjii who served Q'raz and Umber. They had begun the stirrings of war. Now that war was under way, Crystoph could not let this enemy take control of a powerful weapon or report intelligence about it to his superiors. And he could not take the Cjii prisoner. 
    "We were once good friends," said Crystoph as he removed his hands from the Cjii's head as life fled from his mortal form. In a flash a blade made of magical flames appeared in his hand. "But you have started a war and you have broken the code of honor. Goodbye, Devoricus!" 
    Crystoph exhaled deeply and released his hold on the Tides as the head of Devoricus rolled to a stop at his feet. 

C H A P T E R
    T W O

    ~
    The day was warmer than it had been in a very long time, though it was far from actually warm. A chill breeze blew and the two people sitting at a sidewalk table outside the  Shadyside Inn  shifted uncomfortably; winter was not through with the island yet. The silence between them was profound, each lost in deep thought while eating a warm meal. Carym took a long pull from his glass and blew out a long breath. The drink was warm, perfect for the air; it was a local drink that was part whiskey, part cream and part something very sweet. The fiery brew warmed his blood and stirred his thoughts toward the urgency of the quest, weighing it against the necessity of their delay.
    A good many people went about their business on the streets of Myrnwell beneath a clear blue sky, taking advantage of the first somewhat hospitable day in a long time. Carym watched as carts pulled by horses or oxen carried goods to the market district and ornate carriages took the wealthier from place to place. Seagulls dived down into the streets to peck at the scraps of food fallen from carts. Every now and then one of the city's poorer folk would get lucky with a rock and dine on roasted seagull in an alley.
    He turned back to the raven-haired beauty across from him and sighed, she seemed intent on the bottom of the glass of wine before her. It was the first time the lovers had been able to share a moment alone and the weight that each carried proved to be more than words could bear. The two had had very little time for each other during their winter stay in Myrnwell. Each had endured strenuous and demanding training at the hands of their mentors. Carym spent a significant amount of time training in martial combat with members of the Training Fist, a company of knights that resided permanently at the Hand of Zuhr barracks in Myrnwell.  Several experienced knights served there as trainers for the new recruits of the Hand who would spend weeks under their tutelage. He recalled the necessary brutality of that