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Back Into the Dying Light Save as PDF
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

He climbed hastily down the tower until he could hear the voices of the crowd carrying over the wind. As he clung to the tower wall two stories above the amphitheater, he realized the crowd was no longer seated in the stands, but on their feet, pouring toward the exits. The stage, in contrast, was empty.

Where was Beru? Where was Pallas? He scanned the crowd for them, eyes darting over priests in long sweeping blue robes and Witnesses in black and gold. At the edge of the stage closest to him, his eyes caught on Hassan and Hector, back-to-back, surrounded by gleaming silver swords.

Jude didn’t think before he started moving. He summoned his Grace, braced both feet against the stone wall, and pushed off as hard as he could, flipping in a graceful arc to land gently on his feet behind the group of swordsmen that surrounded Hector and Hassan.

Voices cried out indistinctly as Jude unsheathed the sword at his belt. The swordsmen closest to him turned to face him.

Jude froze, his eyes locked on the swordsman. He knew him.

Yarik. Annuka’s brother, a member of Jude’s Guard.

“Oathbreaker,” Yarik snarled, his blade gleaming in the gray light. Like the others, he wore a deep blue cloak—but only now did Jude register the seven-pointed star brooch pinning his cloak to his shoulders.

Jude was rooted to the ground. These were not just swordsmen, they were Paladin. His mind refused to make sense of what he was seeing. These people—his people—under the command of the Hierophant.

And then Yarik was on him, his sword slashing out wide, forcing Jude to parry. The wrongness of this fight, of facing off against his own people, knocked Jude breathless.

But Yarik didn’t seem to have the same reservations. Didn’t seem to care that he was attacking his own captain, his own Keeper. He barreled toward Jude, his blade a silver blur. Jude was the faster fighter, always had been, but Yarik was a good deal stronger. And Jude didn’t want to hurt him. Even knowing Yarik had allied himself with Pallas, Jude couldn’t bear the idea of harming a member of his Guard.

Jude evaded and blocked, spinning out of the way of another strike.

“Jude!” Hector’s voice cried out.

Over his shoulder, Jude could see Hector and Hassan battling their way through the group of Paladin. Jude angled himself toward the two of them, and as he blocked Yarik’s next strike, he leapt back toward them.

Hector grabbed Jude’s arm, yanking him out of the way of another Paladin’s attack.

“We have a problem,” Hector said as he released him to fend off another Paladin.

“I can see that,” Jude said faintly, parrying a strike from one Paladin and then another.

“Not the Paladin,” Hector grunted, forcing another attacker back. His gaze caught Jude’s through the fray. “It’s Beru. She’s gone.”

11

EPHYRA