The Ember Blade (The Darkwater Legacy, #1)

by Chris Wooding

‘You’re always from somewhere. It doesn’t matter what’s written on your skin.’

And if Keel was slain first, or if they couldn’t save him from whatever torture the Krodans had in mind? Well, at least he’d have tried. What more could he do, really? Where was the sense in pitting himself against overwhelming odds? What was the point in getting them all killed to save one?

‘The wheels of change are greased with blood,’

‘Can a bard be blamed if her words are misinterpreted?’

The thought made her furious. Didn’t Sards belong to Ossia, too? Didn’t they walk the same earth, breathe the same air? The people of this land enjoyed their craft markets and performances, stole Sard fashions and fantasised about the mysterious lives they imagined Sards had. No doubt there were plenty who were concerned and sympathetic, Ossians and Krodans alike. But when it came to it, no one spoke up for them.

saw how people treated a proud man like a beggar just because he walked with a crutch.

‘I wish they’d invaded twenty years earlier. At least then I would not have grown up with hope. That is the worst of it.’

common foe makes allies of the wariest strangers.’

‘It takes a fire to make a fire,’

Answers will come in their own time, Vika had told him once, and when they do, you may wish you’d never asked.

‘There’s a long road to if,

So much easier to do nothing than something.

‘In thirty years I’ve seen a lot of traitors and turncoats, boy,’ said Garric from the doorway. ‘You’re not half as subtle as you think.’

I knew it

Sometimes it’s hard to shake off old habits.

Freedom has no price.’

The day we buried her, he told me I had to learn to look after myself.

‘He was your father,’ said Aren. ‘You just wanted to be with him. I know how that feels.’

Sometimes we’re so casual about putting our lives in each other’s hands,

the kind of pain that made it easier to lie down and die.

Perhaps he thought it an act of love to delay his suicide, but to Aren’s mind it was cowardice. He’d always intended to abandon her, and had only instilled that lonely philosophy so he could die with a clear conscience and avoid the harder road of carrying on.

Let tonight be tonight, and tomorrow be tomorrow.

Yes, there is risk – great risk; but it is worth the prize.

‘But we must stand together, or we will fall alone.

His parents’ choices were not his responsibility, and he didn’t need to atone for decisions he had no hand in making.

‘I hate you sometimes,’ she said, meaning the opposite.

She felt herself becoming angry on Orica’s behalf. Orica’s song had touched her, and Mara wasn’t easily stirred. Her daring and quick thinking might have saved the lives of their companions down below; she deserved admiration, not belittlement. But Orica was a woman, and a Sard, and it wasn’t in the nature of men like these to admire women, except as objects of desire.

Tormenting his subordinate had begun as a necessity but ended up as a habit.

Because I know my job, you withered old bastard.

Or at least it would be if you’d shut up and let me get on with my job.

On such hypocrisy rests our Empire.

They’d shown her Aren.

I had wondered if it was Aren.

‘How unfortunate,’ sneered the prince. ‘It seems you’ve lost your blade.’

Says the prince that’s hiding behind guards

He loosed his grip, and fell.

No,no,no

Suddenly he couldn’t hold back the emotion any more, but it wasn’t sadness he felt; it was rage. Rage was safer, easier, better. His back teeth clenched hard enough to hurt. He needed to destroy, to kill, to have his revenge on a world that had ripped his best friend away.

Do you think the world owes you justice? Ask the women and children, crushed and maimed and burning

right now, if your resistance is worth it. Most of the servants here are Ossian, you know. You call me a murderer, but I’ve not killed one-tenth the number you have. And my victims, unlike yours, were all guilty of something.’

‘He was a traitor,’ Aren said quietly. ‘But he was still my father. And I loved him.’

Right and wrong were just a matter of perspective. Stories and histories changed depending on the teller. Justice was an illusion. All that mattered was what you believed.

There were no heroes or villains here, or anywhere. He was just a man, flawed as the next, and he made his choices like the rest of them. Whether they were good choices or bad was a matter of perspective.