The Darkest Sword Samantha Kroese (easy books to read in english .TXT) 📖

eyes, search for recognition, for memory. However, he knew he would find none, so he knelt low to the ground as Ashiyn expected. “How may I serve you?”

Ashiyn dropped the other servant and the terrified man scrambled away. Ashiyn did not say a word as he stalked closer, heavy boots slapping the stone beneath him, magic dripping from him like water.

Soryn closed his eyes, willing fear away. He had not done anything to displease Ashiyn. He was not in danger. He would not fear Ashiyn. He waited, silent, reverent. “Come,” Ashiyn commanded then immediately turned and walked the other way. Soryn scrambled to his feet and followed obediently.

He would follow Ashiyn anywhere, even to his own death. He forced away the guilt. He should be out saving their world, tending to the wounded, healing the land. Not here, scrubbing the floors of the creator of the apocalypse. But Soryn had helped turn Ashiyn into this monster; he would not abandon Ashiyn to his fate. If he could save Ashiyn, he could save their world. He had to be careful though. Ashiyn was not the young man that Soryn had loved before. That man still had a conscience. He was now iron and steel, diamond-hard, ruthless, and deadly. The years had crushed the good in him, and most thought there was none left. Soryn did not want to believe that.

They walked for some time and Soryn had not keep track of the way back to the servant’s chambers. The castle was a maze. Oh well, the Nthir liked him. They would show him the way back. If he survived. When the doorway before them opened and he realized he was in Ashiyn’s private chambers for the first time in over three thousand years, Soryn balked at the doorway.

Ashiyn sent him a scowl as he turned to face Soryn. He crossed his arms, displeasure on his face. “You are a powerful magus. Why are you scrubbing my floors?”

Soryn swallowed, remembering to keep his gaze lowered. He scooted inside the room and the doors slammed shut behind him, making him jump. “Always so dramatic, Ashiyn,” he thought. At least some things about his friend had not changed. His mouth went dry and he scrambled for an excuse. Finally, he decided sticking as closely to the truth as possible was probably best. He was a horrible liar anyway. “I came here to serve you, Master. In the hopes, you would one day notice me so that I could serve you better.”

Ashiyn looked suspicious at that but tilted his head, curious. “My master hides in a plane between worlds. I cannot destroy him as long as he can retreat there.”

Soryn’s breath caught again. Finally, Ashiyn was going to kill Rhadamanthus? His heart started beating so hard it was nearly impossible to hear anything else. “I can destroy where he hides, Master. I have the magic to walk between planes.”

“If you succeed, I will reward you. If you fail, the fate you suffer will be far worse than even my Master would think of for you,” Ashiyn threatened.

Soryn could hardly breathe. If they killed Rhadamanthus, the reward would be far greater than even Ashiyn could comprehend. Ashiyn would remember him. Remember everything. The monster’s control over Ashiyn would be broken. Soryn could influence him; maybe divert him and the world from their current course to oblivion. But most of all, he might have a chance to be with Ashiyn again. “I will not fail you, Master. I would never fail you.”

“Do you need time to prepare?” Ashiyn asked, his brows furrowed. He was puzzled.

“No, Master. Whenever you are ready,” Soryn whispered, not trusting his voice. He’d been preparing for this for millennia. He knew he was ready. Was Ashiyn? He risked a glance up again, his breath stolen again by the sight of Ashiyn. Here, in the brighter room, Ashiyn was devastating to look at. Soryn felt his knees go weak.

“Now, then,” Ashiyn drew his blade. Sihtaar seemed to stir in recognition, tendrils of dark magic reaching toward Soryn.

Soryn stepped out of their reach. No. He would not let the blade ruin his surprise. He didn’t trust Sihtaar any more than he did Rhadamanthus. The wicked spirit in the blade had driven Ashiyn further into darkness. It consumed celestials. He would not let it know what or who he was until Ashiyn could protect him. With renewed determination, he spoke, “Lure him from that place and I will destroy the path. He will not be able to return.”

“Wait here. I will empower Sihtaar and return. Then we will destroy my master,” Ashiyn said, then stalked out of the room.

Soryn took a deep breath and sank onto a chair to wait, emotions threatening to choke him. Soon they would be free.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Red. Ashiyn’s sight, his armor, the ground. He never felt as alive as he did when he was covered in blood. He heard a groan on the ground behind him and whirled around. A poor fool tried to crawl away from him. With one swift movement his blade whistled through the air and drove through the man’s back. He left it there to drink of the man’s blood, black lightning crackling from the blade like an electrical storm.

Ashiyn walked down the silent, blood-stained path, stepping over the bodies of his victims. He had seen something during his killing spree that might be worth another look.

He ducked into the hovel, too tall to avoid hitting his head otherwise. The building stank of death and human waste. The owner of the house, a magus, hung from the wall, impaled by the very spikes of metal he had summoned to attack Ashiyn.

Ashiyn ignored the corpse and walked instead to the small desk in the corner. Scattered over it lay the normal paraphernalia of magic use in this world. Herbs and animal bits for spell reagents, vials of animal blood,