SHADOW OF A SLAVE
Saffron Bryant
Contents
SHADOW OF A SLAVE
COPYWRITE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
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SHADOW OF A SLAVE
SAFFRON BRYANT
COPYWRITE
SHADOW OF A SLAVE
Saffron Bryant
Copyright © 2017 by Saffron Bryant. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
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1
Ash slapped at his arm where a mosquito the size of his thumbnail had latched on. It exploded in a splatter of red.
He shifted the heavy fishing nets to his other hand. “Bloody things.”
Ash and Rae traipsed side by side along a rickety wooden bridge between two small clumps of land. Green swamp water flowed beneath them, carrying twigs and rotting leaves deeper into the maze of waterways. Thick trees drooped long vines into the swamp and created eddies that splashed along the grassy hills that rose like small islands from the water.
Orange lights glowed from within the distant mist, beacons from the stilted houses of Wichden. Long wooden poles held them high above the water and away from the swarms of insects that created a constant buzz in the thick, warm air.
Sweat glued Ash’s shirt to his back and poured down his face to sting his eyes. The midday humidity made him feel as though he were drowning with every breath.
They followed a meandering path of thin bridges through the swamp to a platform of rotting timbers. Thick rope held a handful of narrow canoes to the platform, each with a name carved into the front.
A mosquito flew past Ash’s eyes and landed on his neck. He slapped it, staggered, and his foot plunged through a rotten plank of wood into the brown water beneath.
“Fel’s balls!” He hurled the fishing equipment down and dragged his soaking foot back up through the hole. “Why can’t it ever be easy?”
“Because life never is,” Rae said. “Try this.”
She rummaged in her pockets and pulled out a small vial. She popped the lid and dabbed clear oil on her arms before passing it to Ash. A lemon scent filled the air around them and the cloud of insects thinned.
Ash collected the fishing gear from around his feet. “Thanks. You’re the best.”
“I know.”
They edged around the least rotten side of the platform; holes and cracks warned where other unwary feet had fallen through.
At the very end, drifting in a steady current, floated the most decrepit of the canoes. Mold colored the edges, and a shallow puddle of water, alive with insect larvae, filled the bottom. The gritty scent of stale mud wafted up from the river.
Rae knelt and tugged the boat closer to the platform while Ash dumped the nets. Together they bailed out most of the water and larvae, and then loaded the nets into the bottom of the boat.
Rae got in first, grabbing two oars from the back seat. They were of different lengths and each had a different symbol carved into its handle.
Ash’s foot hovered just above the boat when a resounding drumbeat echoed across the swamp from the center of the village.
They froze, ears straining.
The noise came again.
Ash’s heart fluttered against his ribcage.
A third boom thumped through the trees.
“Three,” Rae whispered.
Ash swallowed, throat dry, and jumped into the boat; his weight made it list sideways and take on a wave of water.
Before Ash found his seat, Rae plunged the oars into the water, carrying them away from the platform and into the gentle flow.
Ash regained his balance and leaned forward at the front of the boat, squinting into the mist. He scanned the twinkle of lights ahead; silhouetted figures hurried through the town center but he couldn’t make out anything solid.
“Maybe we should stay at the platform,” Rae said in a low tone.
Ash gripped the side of the boat. “We can’t. You know they always check the platform. We’ve got to get out into the open swamp.”
“But that will take us directly past town.”
Ash threw up his hands and turned wild eyes toward her. “What choice do we have?”
They fell silent, letting the current of the swamp carry them. Rae used her paddle to steer and cringed as it splashed in the green water.
Voices grew louder as they got closer to town, and some of the figures resolved themselves. Ash recognized Elder Magda striding through town with three figures in long, black robes and deep hoods—the Faceless Monks.
“I’m sure we saw you just recently,” Magda said with a nervous chuckle. “To what do we owe the… pleasure?”
“We’ve heard rumors of twins,” the Monk said.
Magda’s eyes bulged and she coughed. “Twins?”
“Yes.”
“But… No. You must have heard wrong. We don’t tolerate that sort here. They’re dealt with like they’re supposed to be.”
“Then you won’t mind if we look around?”
Magda mopped her brow with a ragged piece of cloth. “No, of course not.”
The Faceless Monks moved ahead of her, seeming to glide across the ground rather than walk. They split up, each striding toward a different building in the town square.
Ash and Rae ducked low as their canoe came into sight of the village. Ash stared down into the growing puddle of murky water in the bottom of the boat and held his breath. The thick mist might be enough to hide them. His blood pounded in his ears and his neck prickled. It would only take one person to noti
ce them and call out…
“Hey! What are you doing?!”
Ash’s heart jerked in his chest and his head flew up, expecting to see the Faceless Monks bearing down on him. Instead, a commotion had erupted at the far side of town, near Blacksmith Bingam’s.
A Faceless Monk glided out of Bingam’s shop with something held in each hand.
“B-but, lord, please, that’s personal!” Bingam called. His face shone red and his stomach jiggled as he waddled after the monk.
The two other Monks appeared out of adjacent buildings and joined their companion. Other townsfolk gathered in a circle around them but kept their distance.
Ash glanced over his shoulder and met Rae’s wide eyes. This was their chance.
Rae plunged her oars into the water and they slid past the village, maneuvering between the trees and tiny islands.
Ash kept his eyes locked on the scene in the town center.
“Do you admit these are yours?” said a Faceless Monk.
“Y-yes, but—” Bingam stuttered. Sweat created clear rivulets through his charcoal-covered face.
“You have created twin objects, against the laws of the gods.”
“No! It was a mistake. One was just a practice, I needed—”
“Enough! You are found guilty. The punishment for possession and creation of matching objects is death. Sentence to be carried out immediately.”
Ash and Rae’s boat sped past the end of town and the gathered people faded into the thickening mist. Ash craned his neck to look back.
“No!” Bingam wailed.
“Guilty,” said the Faceless Monk.
A bright flash of light lit up the town, casting stark shadows across the surrounding buildings. The townsfolk drew a collective gasp and someone screamed. The silhouette that was Bingam convulsed and collapsed to the ground just as the canoe rounded a tree and the town went out of sight.
“They killed him,” Ash whispered.
“Of course they did,” Rae said, her voice tight. “Idiot should have destroyed his practice one.”
Ash swallowed and faced forward, keeping an eye out for submerged rocks and other hazards.
“They’ll still search the whole town,” Rae said.
“They keep coming. Someone knows about us and told them.”
Rae snorted. “Probably Mother.”
Ash cast a stern glance over his shoulder. “Whoever it is, they’re not going to stop. We need to think about leaving.”
“Where would we go?”
“I don’t know, but we’re more than old enough to make our own way.”
Ash sighed; it was a discussion they’d had many times. The longer they stayed in Wichden, the greater the chance of them being caught. They had to go somewhere they couldn’t be found. But that was a problem for another day; for the moment, they had to focus on staying away from town until the Faceless left.
“We’ll have to go into the outer swamp,” Ash said. “In case they decide to search for boats too.”
Rae nodded and kept paddling. They floated past the last glowing light of their village and into the open swamp where the water flowed faster and deeper, and there were fewer and smaller islands. Even so, signs of civilization abounded with lamps ready to be lit and colored markers that signaled hidden cages waiting to catch lobsters and crabs.
They floated past the markers and into deeper water where they couldn’t see the bottom and reeds caught on their boat. After half an hour of paddling, they were farther from town than anyone else dared to go. Mysterious lights hovered above the surface some distance away, disguised by thick fog. An occasional splash broke the sullen silence and set Ash’s teeth on edge.
He studied the water below, and the back of his neck tingled. There were stories of people going missing in the outer swamps, and he had no doubt that monsters lurked beneath the surface. Elder Magda had bones in her house, bigger than Ash was tall, from some dead creature that washed into town decades before.
Ash shivered and tried to keep calm.
“Better throw the net in,” Rae said. “If we come back from boating with nothing to show for it, it’ll look suspicious.”
Ash tore his eyes from the water and lowered the net. It caught in the current and fanned out, sinking as it went. He tied the top to the front of the boat and sat back, keeping all of his fingers inside the edge of the canoe.
“Bloody Faceless,” he muttered.
2
They stayed there for an hour and snagged three long fish, bigger than they’d ever catch in the normal fishing area, which flopped and gasped for air in the bottom of the boat.
“Do you think we’ve been gone long enough?” Ash said.
“Probably,” Rae said. “We’ll head in slowly and if we see them, we’ll just come back.”
Ash folded the net and wedged it in the bottom of the boat, over the flapping fish.
Rae plunged an oar into the swamp. The water surged and the oar jerked down. It dragged Rae sideways, toward the water.
Ash lashed out and caught the back of Rae’s shirt, hauling her back before the rocking boat could hurl them both into the frothing water.
The oar dipped beneath the surface and re-emerged as a handful of splinters that floated away in the current.
Something big moved beneath their boat and created waves that splashed against the surrounding trees. Spines pierced the surface of the water and then dove back down just before something hard hit the side of their boat and knocked them sideways.
Ash gripped his seat with one hand and Rae with the other, heart hammering in his chest. They had to get back to shallow water, but they didn’t dare use their one remaining paddle.
The creature smacked their boat again and spun them across the surface of the swamp like a leaf caught in a gale.
Ash snatched at a vine as they surged past it and braced his legs in the boat. He dragged the boat to a stop and steadied it against the thrashing waves.
Rae pulled a small fishing knife—the closest thing they had to a weapon—from their pile of supplies and brandished it at the water.
Ash moved hand over hand across the vine, dragging the boat with him. If he could keep his strength, the vines might just be enough to take them back to town…
The monster slammed into the side of the boat, harder than before. Ash clutched at the vine, but the water made it slippery and it slid through his hands. His arms windmilled, the boat rocked under his unsteady feet, and, with a strangled cry, he fell into the swamp.
Water flooded his nose and mouth, choking him. He broke the surface with a flurry of splashing limbs. He gasped and the scent of dirty water and mold filled his head. Water currents battered his legs as the monster swam past and his heart clenched.
“Ash!” Rae screamed from the boat, already three feet away and moving farther.
Ash’s arms jerked out of his control, fear seizing his muscles.
“Swim, Ash!”
Ash focused on Rae’s voice and put one quaking arm in front of the other.
A hard current battered his right leg, and then pain exploded from his calf like a hot knife dragged through his flesh. Jaws clenched around his limb and wrenched him under the water. He managed a desperate gasp of air before his head sunk below the surface.
He spun and, through the murky depths, could just make out the lizard-like creature, three times his size, with its teeth locked around his lower leg. Blood poured into the surrounding water and stained it red.
Adrenalin surged through Ash’s veins; he knew as well as any resident of Wichden that blood in the water attracted predators. He needed to get away.
His lungs burned, but there was no way for him to get to the surface. He gathered all of his courage and lashed out at the monster’s face with both fists. The water slowed his punches to little more than gentle taps that went unnoticed.
He tried to kick, but the motion dragged his flesh against the monster’s teeth and made his head spin with new pain.
Ash
dragged his arms through the water and strained to get to the dim glow of the surface far above, but couldn’t break free.
Ash’s vision darkened, black clouds drawing in on all sides.
A shadow moved in his tunnel of vision, black against the dim light above. He frowned as he followed its passage; it swam past him, sending out ripples of water, straight at the monster. He recognized the shape; Rae!
She lunged at the creature and metal flashed in her hand. She brought the fishing knife down on the monster’s head, knocking its teeth deeper into Ash’s flesh. Bubbles escaped his lips in a strangled scream.
Rae stabbed again and again, until blue blood poured out of the creature’s head and its jaw loosened on Ash’s leg.
Ash tried to swim away, but his muscles failed him, void of oxygen and strength.
His vision went dark and the burn in his lungs became unbearable. He couldn’t control them anymore, he had to breathe; he had to—
Something snatched his arms and dragged him upward. His head burst through the surface and he took a great gasping breath, limbs flailing.
Rae dragged him across the water to their boat, which had become caught in reeds.
Shadow of a Slave (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 1) Page 1
