Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Then I shall decide if I should kill him or not.
2
Alaric
I am not surprised that the Sorceress finds me before I reach her tower. When I entered the borders of Nocturna, I felt myself being watched. The sound of wings and the harsh cawing of the spy birds she uses to patrol her lands were ever in my ears.
It is jarring to ride from blinding daylight into blackest night all in the space of a single horse’s stride, but I crossed the border a while ago. I have been riding through what feels like endless night for ages now.
Though I confess, the darkness of Nocturna is different from that of the nighttime in Solaris. The plants here all glow with unholy magic. It is not uncommon to ride through a forest lit with softly glowing green, blue, pink, and yellow lights. It makes me think of a fairy village and it is quite beautiful—in an evil way, of course.
The animals often have glowing eyes, the better I suppose, to help them see in the endless darkness. They scamper away from my horse well before his hooves might find them. And always the full moon rides above me, pouring silver luminescence that is, thankfully, enough to find my way by.
I had to ask the villagers who live on the edge of the Demarcation—the line between Solaris and Nocturna—where the tower of the Sorceress lies. Some were reluctant to speak—apparently they trade with the NightBorn, though such commerce has been outlawed by the GodKing—and they did not wish to offend their Nocturna neighbors. However, gold on their palms loosened some lips and now I am sure of my path.
I begin to grow weary just a few hours from my destination. So weary, in fact, that I fear I might start slipping from my saddle. It’s natural to be tired, I tell myself. After all, I’ve been riding for days with very little rest.
I decide to stop a while. I need to be fresh for the battle ahead. I ride until I find shelter—the overgrown and crumbled remains of an ancient abandoned temple to the Old Gods. We worshipped them until the GodKing rose to power.
Up until then, we DayBorn of Solaris didn’t understand the threat that was posed to us by the wicked NightBorn of Nocturna. But the GodKing opened our eyes—he made us see how evil they are with their dark arts and Shadow Magic. After he took the throne, we went to war with them and we’ve never let up since. It’s one reason I am proud to serve him.
I dismount and give my horse his head. Destrider won’t go far from me—I’ve had him since he was a colt. I’m so weary now I can barely stand. I find a stream and bathe myself—I always feel better going into battle if I’m clean—and then lay out my cloak and take a nap.
I have no idea I am being watched.
3
Sylvanna
The Paladin is very trusting. He seems to have no idea that his weariness is due to the spell I laid on him using my Sleep Spool. It appears to be a spool carved of ebon wood but the silvery thread wrapped around it is actually woven of dreams. To use it, I simply cut a length of dream-thread for as long as I wish my subject to sleep and whisper the Paladin’s name—which is Sir Alaric Brightsword, how very fitting—as I blow it into the wind.
Once the dream-thread finds its target, the spell takes effect. I stand over Sir Alaric and watch him sleep. He is divested of his armor—wearing only a long tunic which falls to his hips. He has spread his cloak on the grass beside the stream and he slumbers deeply.
He is a fine-looking man—if one likes the ruddy barbarian type. We of the NightBorn favor pale skin and dark hair. Sir Alaric is tanned all over—unsurprising, I suppose, since he spends so much time under the burning eye of the Sun. I cannot see the color of his eyes but his hair is brown with golden streaks in it. He has a straight nose and a sensuous mouth. He also has surprisingly long lashes for a male.
I cannot help looking down below, where his linen tunic has ridden up to his flat, muscular belly, and I see that his shaft is absolutely immense. Even in repose it’s much bigger than anything a NightBorn man would wield. Well, well—I wonder how many bastards he’s sired for the Jewel of Knowing tells me that he has no wife.
I force my eyes above his waist again. His face in repose is troubled—as though his dreams are bad. A pity the thread I cut for him didn’t bring him sweeter sleep. But it could just be that he is anticipating battle with me.