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Back The Drowned Cities Save as PDF
Chapters (53)
  1. Welcome
  2. Dedication
  3. PART ONE
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. PART TWO
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  52. Contents
  53. Copyright

Tool stared at the skinny redheaded creature, wondering why it didn’t scamper away. He had this mouse boy by the tail because… Tool searched his memory. It was hazy. The mouse was a prisoner, and prisoners had uses. Sometimes the general had wanted enemy troops taken alive. Wanted them whole instead of gutted…

Tool couldn’t remember why he was keeping the boy. Decided he didn’t care. He was dying. Having a companion to watch over one’s death was not a bad thing. He himself had watched many of his brothers and sisters as they went from pain into peace. Listened to their recountings. It was good to go into death with someone to remember your passage.

The boy tried to get away, but Tool still had enough strength to stop that, at least.

“No,” he growled. “You stay with me.”

“Why don’t you just let me go?”

“Let you go? You’re begging?” Tool couldn’t help but growl in disgust. “Do you think the First Claw of Lagos offered me mercy when we met in single combat? You think I begged when he placed his blade upon my neck? You think he let me go?” Tool snorted. “You think my general offered to let me walk free of his own accord? You think Caroa ever let anyone go?” Tool stared at the boy. It was difficult not to despise weakness like this. “Never beg for mercy. Accept that you have failed. Begging is for dogs and humans.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Accepting that you’ve failed?”

“You think I’ve failed?” Tool let his teeth show. “In my years of war, I have never been defeated. I have burned cities and destroyed armies, and the sky has wept flame because of me and mine. If you think I die defeated, you know nothing.”

He lay back, exhausted from the exchange. He had never been so weak.

Death is not defeat, Tool told himself. We all die. Every one of us. Rip and Blade and Fear and all the rest. We all die. So what if you are the last? You were designed to be destroyed.

And yet still, some part of him rebelled at the thought. He alone had won free. He alone had survived. The bad dog who had turned upon his master. Tool almost smiled, wondering what Caroa would think of him now, lying in the mud, bleeding out. He stifled a snort. Caroa wouldn’t have cared at all. Generals never cared. They sent their packs to slaughter, and covered themselves in glory.