“I’ve waited long enough on those boats,” the Kadoshim growled, his voice strange, multiplied, as if there were an echo within his own throat. “It’s time to kill something.” “His name’s Legion,” Lykos whispered conspiratorially to Fidele as he strapped a leather and iron buckler to his left arm. “Not the most patient creature. And angry, most of the time.” “He ate Agost’s face,” Fidele said, shuddering. “Aye. He has issues. Handy in a scrap, though.”
