Dark Empathy Archibald Bradford (best books to read in your 20s TXT) 📖

can get on with this. The bandaging I mean, the pissing thing was obviously a joke.”

A tense silence hung over the others... until it was broken by someone with far more curiosity than sense.

“Fascinating!” Martin exclaimed as he vigorously cleaned his broken glasses with the hem of his shirt; “I have heard of the power of the Witches but to experience it firsthand was a real treat! I must find something to write with!”

His eyes cast about in search of materials for taking notes while everybody else looked on him as they would a madman.

“You’re cute.” Olena said with a rare smirk.

It took some time, but soon enough everyone had settled down and the Witch was bandaging the Troglodyte’s wounds while Adrian and the Amazons listened to her story, the Minotaur herd still watching on.

“Something was off about them, we all sensed it, and when they started to remove the weapons from the dig…” Her look was grim; “I interceded, and they attacked. They freed the prisoners-”

“How many?” Hila cut her off suddenly.

Bask wasn’t offended at the interruption, too focused on giving them the facts as efficiently as she could.

“We had eighty three when they arrived. They led the charge against us and suffered the brunt of our wrath. Maybe half of them still breathe, but we’re all that’s left. My clan is broken. If it weren’t for Jubby...” The furious Trog trailed off as her vision flicking to her exhausted friend looming over her.

Alcaia listened intently, her expression grave.

“So perhaps forty miscreants, to add to the thirty men and women posing as the Aegis. All likely wielding more lost-tech than they can even use.”

“That is the measure of it.” Bask agreed with a quick nod; “But I don’t care if there are a thousand of them!”

“Nor do I.” Alcaia said mildly; “But I would see them dead, not us.”

“They must be heading back to the world of men. We take them in the trees, where they cannot see us coming.” One of the younger Amazons declared boldly.

Hila shook her head, curbing the enthusiasm of youth.

“That assumes we can even find their trail and catch up to them.”

“That is the easy part.” The Troglodyte, Sila, said quietly as her tongue darted out; “Once we saw to our dead we followed them across the sand. We’re not about to forget the taste of their scent.”

Bask spoke with a hiss, her rage barely contained.

“They’re heading northwest. We need to move, they have a great lead on us that only grew once we reached the grasslands and my injury overcame me.”

“You’re not wrong, Bloodletter.” Alcaia nodded; “Except about the ‘we’ part.”

Bask’s eyes narrowed and she spoke flatly.

“What?”

“You are in no condition to continue this hunt, and I think you know that. We will not slow down for you.”

The Trog hissed, but Martin placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Bask… please.”

His was the only voice in the world she would ever bow to, so after a tense couple of seconds her head drooped.

“Fine, I stay behind.” Her chin lifted again as she looked around; “Sila.”

“I am here.”

“You are bloodletter now. Take our sisters who are able and avenge my failure.”

The other Trog nodded firmly.

“I will bloodlet- Bask. I promise you I will.”

Alcaia, now satisfied, turned away as the former bloodletter spoke to the current.

She faced the Amazon war-host, barely fatigued from their rapid journey, fire burning bright in their eyes.

“Our vengeance is coming war-sisters, we have but to chase these dogs down and take it!”

There was a great cheer from the various warriors, meanwhile Martin and Jubby shared a look of trepidation; both of them thinking the same thing: At what cost?

Chapter 27:Turning Points

Garland did not get as much snow as Algrade, and what they did get had long since melted by the time the Aegis council decided that Nameless was indeed ready for his field training.

At least, most of them decided: there was one notable dissenter.

In the headmistress’s office at the academy a meeting was taking place between Theo Holbrooke, Booker, and Margaret Bloom.

The instructor had a clipboard in front of him while Margaret sat at her desk, Booker leaning on the side of it as both councilors listened to his report.

“He’s got heart, no question. And he works harder than any cadet we’ve had in the last couple years. His aptitude grades were mediocre on a few subjects, history, math and the like. But I’m pretty sure that’s more from a dismal early education than anything, and he has improved steadily on his own. He did have the charter down pat when he arrived. I believe Holt had a hand in that. But he is a little too idealistic, not unusual for a cadet his age, he definitely struggles with the grey areas. If I have any real reservations about him though, it’s his size. Hard to subdue a perp when you’re way below their weight class. But then again, I suppose that’s what the Gigas and the Minotaur are for.”

Booker’s expression remained inscrutable as he listened, while Margaret prodded the instructor to continue.

“How about the Katje?”

He shook his head ruefully as he rustled to another sheaf of paper on his clipboard.

“She’s a natural at any kind of covert skills, unsurprising for her breed. She’s also more than a little street-smart, which makes sense given her background. But where she really impresses me is in her combat ability, don’t see that much discipline with Katje, I’m told she was trained by two different tribes of Amazons and I believe it, the work she can do with those knives is downright uncanny! Together, the pair would be perfect for undercover work, something he also excels at by the way. When the chips are down that kid can