The Shadow of What Was Lost (The Licanius Trilogy, #1)

by James Islington

Lightning. For a moment the waters of Eryth Mmorg were lit, roiling and churning as though a great knife had plunged deep into the pool’s murky heart. A dark wave shattered against a barely discernible outcrop of black rocks, hissing, spitting spray a hundred feet into the air before subsiding. The world flickered back into darkness, but the waves, if anything, increased their intensity. Another roared, hissed, sighed, even louder than the peals of thunder that followed. Another. Tal watched impassively from his rocky perch, high above even the spray. Only his cloak moved as it flowed out behind him, billowing and snapping in the gusting wind. Old eyes set against youthful features stared unblinking into the night, fixed upon the point where he knew the gaping maw of Eryth Mmorg lay. Another flash illuminated the oval of jagged rocks; the waves licked at them hungrily, waiting to devour any who ventured close. Behind him lay the flat, barren rock that was Taag’s Peak. No life grew there, not even the hard, poisonous foliage that survived elsewhere in the wilderness. The obsidian surface was worn smooth by the constant buffeting wind; twenty paces from Tal it ended in another precipice, almost as sheer as the one he currently overlooked. Few men could gain Taag’s Peak, and fewer still desired to. To the north, on the horizon beyond the pool, the darkness was suddenly broken by a dull red glow. Tal’s eyes cleared after a moment, flicked toward the light. The beacon seemed ab...

The blade traced a slow line of fire down his face. He desperately tried to cry out, to jerk away, but the hand over his mouth prevented both. Steel filled his vision, gray and dirty. Warm blood trickled down the left side of his face, onto his neck, under his shirt. There were only fragments after that. Laughter. The hot stink of wine on his attacker’s breath. A lessening of the pain, and screams—not his own. Voices, high-pitched with fear, begging. Then silence. Darkness.

“‘Every man who holds a sword in his hand, holds murder in his heart.’”

“We each have our temptations, Tal’kamar. We each have our own battles that must be fought.” He paused. “But you must fight them, my friend. You cannot hide from them. Otherwise you will never be more than you are.”