Assassin (Darkblade, #1)

by Andy Peloquin

A man often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it -- Jean de La Fontaine

At the final moment, when the time came to bathe in the infernal heat of battle, there could be no hesitation, no uncertainty. No fear.

Strongest of all, however, an acrid tang hung in a miasma around each. A sharper, bitter-edged stench, that of prey instinctively sensing the presence of a predator.

Soulhunger’s insistence throbbed in the Hunter’s mind. The dagger sensed the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the promise of violence, and sang its ravenous desire into his thoughts, inflaming his own urge to spill blood.

"No man is evil, Hardwell. There is good and bad in all of us. In the end, it all comes down to our choices and the consequences."

"The gods are nothing more than the creations of humans who require something to blame for their problems," the Hunter scoffed. He’d seen far too many instances where those who ought to have done something about their circumstances instead chose inactivity and attributed their woes to “the will of the gods”.

“You saw it?” Graeme asked. “You felt it? It was…” He dropped his voice to a whisper, as if afraid to shatter some fragile hope. “…magic?” “Yes,” the Hunter said. “Magic!” Graeme breathed the word. “So it’s true!” The Hunter was surprised to see moisture brimming in the alchemist’s eyes. “Long have I sought, yet almost I gave up for lack of evidence.” Graeme clasped his hands in front of his face, which lit up with an expression of pure rapture. “After all, how could I, an alchemist, a man of science, believe that such a thing as magic could have ever existed, much less endure to this day. And yet…” Tears slid down his cheeks. “Always have I hoped that a glimmer of the ancient magic remained even after centuries without proof of its presence, its inexplicable touch on the fabric of our world. Now, I know it is true!”