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Back Into the Dying Light
Chapters (72)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. I
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. BEFORE
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. BEFORE
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. BEFORE
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. BEFORE
  25. II
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. III
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. IV
  52. 42
  53. 43
  54. 44
  55. 45
  56. 46
  57. 47
  58. 48
  59. 49
  60. 50
  61. 51
  62. 52
  63. 53
  64. 54
  65. 55
  66. 56
  67. 57
  68. 58
  69. AFTER
  70. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  71. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  72. Newsletter Sign-up

Anton glanced at the swordsmen, assessing. They weren’t wearing any sort of uniforms. Nor did they look like Witnesses.

Taking a risk, he said, “We’re friends of Prince Hassan.”

The swordsman’s eyes flashed with surprise. “What makes you think Prince Hassan is here?”

“Lower your weapons,” an authoritative voice commanded from behind the six swordsmen.

“Yes, General,” the swordsman replied, sheathing his sword immediately and standing at attention as a woman strode into the room. Her right leg, Anton noticed, was missing below the knee. She wore what looked like an artificed prosthetic of wood and lightweight copper, fastened to her knee with leather straps.

“My patrol spotted you on this roof hours ago,” the general said. “Who are you, and how do you know my son?”

“Your son?” Hector repeated.

“That’s a very long story,” Anton replied. “How much time do you have?”

The general’s gaze lingered over him. “Ah,” she said. “I think I know who you are after all.” She turned to her swordsmen. “Continue on your evening patrols. I will personally escort these five to the king.”

The soldiers saluted, and the general led Anton and the others out of the artificer’s workshop and across the road. Where the five of them had been forced back from the steps, the general simply waved a hand. A ring on her right hand glowed slightly, and she walked through freely.

“Quickly now, it won’t stay disabled for long,” she said over her shoulder.

They hurried after her, trailing her up the steps and through the doors of the Great Library.

Even this close to nightfall, the halls of the Library were bustling with activity. The general led them down several long corridors, and though almost a dozen people tried to get her attention, casting curious glances at Anton and the others, she didn’t stop once. Finally, the general turned a corner and threw open the doors to what looked like a meeting room.

Hassan stood at a long table with Khepri and a few other soldiers, deep in conversation. They looked up as the doors banged open, and Hassan’s eyes widened.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted, striding over to them, Khepri at his heels. “I mean—not that I’m not glad to see you all!”

“You might not be,” Anton said, “when we tell you why we’re here.”

“So the god is coming,” Hassan said slowly, after Anton and the others had recounted what had happened in Pallas Athos.

“Anton’s vision was pretty clear,” Jude said gently. “Nazirah is the final city the god will attack.”

Anton’s gaze found Hassan’s. “We don’t know when exactly. But soon. It’s already wrought destruction on Tarsepolis, Pallas Athos, and Endarrion. Only Charis and Nazirah remain.”