The Sound of Broken Absolutes Peter Orullian (best book series to read .TXT) 📖

hit true, taking the Bar’dyn’s left eye. No cry or scream. It stutter-stepped, and kept on. Its expression was as impassive as before—not fury, reason.

Tahn drew again. This arrow struck the Quiet’s knee, as he’d intended. But it shattered against the armor-hard skin there. It was almost too close to fire again, but Tahn pulled a quick draw, Mira a half step behind the creature, and fired at its mouth. The arrow smashed through its teeth and went out through its cheek. The Bar’dyn’s face stretched in a mask of pain. Then it leveled its eyes again and leapt at Tahn.

It was too late to avoid the Quiet. Tahn braced himself. The massive creature drove him to the ground under its immense weight. Tahn lost his breath, couldn’t cry out. He could feel blood on his face. The Bar’dyn shifted to take hold of him.

It propped itself up with one arm, and stared down at Tahn with its indifferent eyes. “You don’t understand,” it said with a thick, glottal voice.

The Bar’dyn began to roll, pulling Tahn with it, as if it might try to carry him away. A moment later, it stopped moving. Mira. She pulled her blade from the creature’s head. Then she turned on the wounded Bar’dyn, who was now staggering toward them, weak from loss of blood.

The last Quiet fell. It panted for several moments, then went still.

CHAPTER TWO

KEEPING PROMISES

“And a Sheason known as Portis came into the court of King Yusefi, king of Kuren, and demanded he keep his pledge to the Second Promise and send men to help the Sedagin in the far North. But Yusefi denied him. Whereupon Portis rendered the king’s blood boiling hot and burned him alive inside. To my knowledge, this is the first recorded instance of Sheason violence against man.”

—An account of the Castigation, from the pages of the Kuren Court diarist

WARM BAR’DYN BLOOD steamed in the moonlight. Tahn scrambled away from the dead Quiet and sat heavily on the cold ground. His heart hammered in his chest. There was no getting used to this.

And now a Velle! What had it done to him? He still felt it. Like vibrations of thought or emotion. Deep down.

“All the way to the Saeculorum,” Tahn said, repeating the joke Vendanj had made before this latest Quiet attack. Now it just sounded exhausting. Impossible.

Vendanj eased himself down to sit near Tahn. “It’s good you’re handy with a bow.”

Mira crouched in front of them, keeping her feet under her—always ready. “Velle. That’s new.” She was looking at Vendanj.

He nodded. “But not surprising. And not the last we’ll see of them.”

“There’s a happy thought,” Tahn said without humor. “Seems like every damn day another storybook rhyme steps from the page. What was it doing to me?”

Vendanj eyed him. Tapped his own chest. “You felt it in here.”

Tahn nodded.

“A renderer of the Will can move things,” he explained. “Push them. Sometimes you’ll see what he does. Sometimes you won’t.” He took a long breath. “Sometimes it’s outside the body. And other times,” Vendanj tapped his chest again, “it’s in here.”

“I don’t feel the same,” Tahn said.

“It’s Resonance.” Vendanj said it with obvious concern. “It’ll linger like a played note. Won’t ever go away completely. But it’ll stop feeling like it does today.”

Tahn rubbed his chest. “I felt like I was remembering. . . .” But it hadn’t completely come back. Mostly the feeling of the memory remained. He turned to Vendanj. “What did it mean, ‘There’ll be no heroes this time’?”

Vendanj took a storyteller’s breath. “This plateau used to be part of the flatlands below.” He gestured out over the bluff. “The Sedagin people here are known as the Right Arm of the Promise. Masters of the longblade. They’ve always kept the First Promise; always marched against the Quiet when they come.”

“What about this time?” Tahn asked, looking at the dead Velle.

Vendanj didn’t seem to hear him. “First time the Quiet came, the regent of Recityv called a Convocation of Seats. Every nation and throne was asked to join an alliance to meet the threat. And most did. The Sedagin were the strongest part of that army. And the Quiet were pushed back.

“Ages later, the Quiet came again.” Vendanj shook his head and sighed. “But by then Convocation had become a political game. Kings committed only token regiments. So, the regent Corihehn adjourned Convocation and sent word to Holivagh, leader of the Sedagin, to march toward the Pall mountains. He told him there was a Second Promise from this Second Convocation. He told him an alliance army would meet them there.”

Tahn guessed the next part, disgust rising in his throat. “It was a lie.”

“It was a lie,” Vendanj echoed, nodding. “Twenty thousand Sedagin soldiers cut a path through the Quiet. They reached the Pall mountains where Bourne armies were crossing into the Eastlands, but by then only two thousand Sedagin were left. Still, they held the breach for eight days. They waited for Corihehn’s reinforcements. But the army of the Second Promise never came. And every Sedagin bladesman perished.”

“But we won the war,” Tahn added, tentative.

“When Del’Agio, Randeur of the Sheason, learned what Corihehn had done, he sent Sheason messengers into the courts of every city. They threatened death to any who wouldn’t honor Corihehn’s lie. The Castigation, it was called.”

Vendanj looked up and down the edge of the bluff. “When the war was won, the Sheason came into the high plains. For several cycles of the first moon they linked hands and willed the earth to rise, built an earthen monument to the Sedagin. Gave them a home. These plains are known as Teheale. It means ‘earned in blood’ in the Covenant Tongue.”

Tahn sat silent in reverence to the sacrifice made so long ago.

“Seems our Velle friend doesn’t think Sheason and Sedagin can turn the Quiet back again.” Vendanj’s smile caught in the light of the moon. “No heroes.”

In many ways, Vendanj reminded Tahn of his father, Balatin. Serious, but able to let worry go