Relic of the Gods (The Echoes Saga, #3)

by Philip C. Quaintrell

“Good. I have lived many lives as both man and woman, and I can honestly say I have no preference. Magic is ever my ally, and it cares naught for gender.”

That thing between your ears is more powerful than any weapon made in a forge, Nasta had said. Use it. Make your emotions serve you not command you. When you have perfect control over your mind you will have perfect control over your body. This is the balance all Arakesh must achieve…

A man with a weapon in his hand believes he is invincible against an unarmed opponent. That belief makes him reckless, even more so if he is accompanied by others. This is to be exploited. Your enemies will be dead before they realise that you are the weapon.

“Swimmin’s for elves!”

“You?” Alidyr’s face crumpled into displeasure. “You may call me Father, Alidyr.” Nasta’s lidless eye sockets settled on the elf. Alidyr looked around at the assassins bending the knee. “What are you doing? I am the Father of Nightfall! You bow only to me!” “You challenged me, yes.” Nasta slowly walked into the room. “But as they can now see, you did not kill me.”

“Unlike you, Alidyr, I do not underestimate my enemy.”

“Whatever comes out of that tower, you look them in the eyes and let them know that this is your home, and you won't be giving it up without a fight. You protect the man beside you and keep your swords up. We’ll face Darkakin before any man from the north. They’re everything you’ve heard. Savages, cannibals… but they’re disorganised in battle. Remember your training and you’ll all see home again.”

With a battle-cry on his lips, the dwarf leapt from the Warhog and crashed into the solid chest of the behemoth. Doran’s weight was enough to drive the beast to the ground with an almighty thud. A ferocity and brutality rarely seen in the dwarf emerged and saw Doran hack at the behemoth’s chest and head with both sword and axe. The armoured ranger didn't stop until the large Darkakin was still and his insides were indistinguishable from his outsides.

“I am Doran son o’ Dorain o’ clan Heavybelly! Ye’re goin’ to rue the day ye ever clapped eyes on me!”

“An’ don’ be thinkin’ that Giant counts for any more than jus’ one!”

“Feels good though, doesn't it?” Nathaniel frowned. “What does?” “Not having to share the same air with that useless sack of shit…”