Thinblade Read Online Free PDF

made.”
    “So it would seem, My Prince. I will send a squad at once.” Jataan looked to Phane for confirmation of the offer but the Reishi Prince was deep in thought.
    Phane looked up abruptly. “Ah … no, that won’t be necessary. I have another idea.” Phane stood and gestured toward the door.
    They exited the Wizard’s Den and Phane waved his hand toward the door. It snapped shut with a high-pitched popping sound and vanished in an instant.
    “Go get me your worst soldier,” Phane commanded offhandedly as he found a tray of food on a side table and placed it carefully on the table in front of his chair.
    Jataan frowned inwardly but said, “Yes, My Prince,” and left the tent. As he walked down the small hill toward the encampment, he wondered what the Reishi Prince had in mind. No matter, he thought, he had his orders. He was the General Commander of the Reishi Protectorate. He had been raised from birth for this moment. He would do his duty, come what may.
    When he came into the small sea of tents that housed his forces, a sentry saluted. Jataan returned the salute with practiced precision. He called out into the open night, “Lieutenant,” then stopped and waited with his hands clasped behind his back.
    Moments later, the officer on duty appeared out of the shadows, came to an abrupt halt and saluted. “Yes, General Commander?”
    “Lieutenant, go get your worst soldier and have him report to me immediately.” Jataan was becoming uneasy but he wasn’t sure why. He stood silently, hands clasped behind his back, and surveyed the encampment. The sentry on duty fidgeted nervously in the presence of his General Commander. Not five minutes passed before the Lieutenant returned with a soldier in tow.
    It was clear that the soldier had been sleeping. He was still buckling his poorly kept breastplate and he’d forgotten his shield. He ambled up to the General Commander and came to attention. Almost as an afterthought he added a sloppy salute.
    Clearly this man was not cut out for the life of a soldier. Jataan P’Tal looked him up and down. He nodded to the Lieutenant, said, “Come with me” to the soldier, turned on his heel and started for the command tent on the top of the small hill. He could hear the soldier shuffling along behind him.
    He wondered again what Prince Phane had in mind for this young, poor excuse for a soldier, before he entered the dimly lit tent.
    “I have the soldi…” Jataan P’Tal stopped mid-word at the threshold of the tent. The unkempt soldier stumbled into him from behind, then recovered quickly and backed off a step while trying to peer around the short, portly General Commander.
    Prince Phane stood with his back to the entrance facing a circle drawn on the ground in blood. His left hand was slick with it from a cut on his wrist that looked self-inflicted. Drops of the thick red liquid were still dribbling from the wound but Phane didn’t seem to notice.
    Inside the circle was a creature of shadow and malice. Jataan couldn’t quite discern where the creature ended and the darkness around it began. It was as if the beast was not quite solid, more a shadow, yet deadly real nonetheless.
    When it saw the General Commander, it lunged for him and abruptly crashed into the invisible barrier of the magic circle surrounding it. The noise it made was like nothing Jataan P’Tal had ever heard. The combination of a dying pig’s squeal and metal scraping against metal. Phane looked over his shoulder and laughed with a mixture of glee and menace. Every hair on Jataan P’Tal’s body stood on end.
    Jataan P’Tal was a battle mage. He understood magic in a limited way. His connection to the firmament was strong but could only be established when he was in a fight. This magic was something else altogether.
    This was necromancy. The magic of the dead. The magic of the netherworlds. The magic of evil. He didn’t know Phane was a necromancer. None of the old writings in the archive of the