Read The Shadow Realm (The Age of Dawn Book 4) for Free Online

She could see he was young now, at least three years younger than Walter. Had she gone too far? These emotions could only remain corked for so long.
    “What’s your name?” Nyset asked with measured control.
    “Cazius.” His eyes were down, his confidence withering like an old elixir cherry.
    “Cazius, fix the wall.” She rested a hand on his shoulder plate. Then turned, mounting the gelding.
    “Yes, Arch Wizard, yes of course, of course.” Cazius nodded furiously.
    “The enemy is real,” she said, loud enough for all the guards to hear. “Our enemies do not take prisoners. Prepare yourselves. Prepare your families, for what burned the Tower is death itself. There are dark days ahead. Your time is precious. We must make every minute count.” She punched her hand, now lit with Dragon fire into her open palm, sparks showering the air. “Do it for all of us and for the fate of humanity.”
    “Constant vigilance!” a guard shouted, his gleaming gauntlet raised. Others joined him in a mix of unsure cries. Some glowered at her and she saw more than a few ghastly faces. One guard started sharpening a sword. An archer twanged a frayed bowstring. It was a start at least.
    She took in a great breath of air and held it in her lungs as she rode under the gates. She could feel the hundreds of eyes on her, following her as she rode. She would not cry, she would not. Sweat trickled down her temples. She found brown and blue eyes staring down at her through the murder holes under the parapet. The story would spread like wild fire by the end of the day, as she hoped it would.

Chapter Two
    Scarred
    “Whispers of the Dead: Speaking the secret words will call forth their former spirits from the Shadow Realm, infusing life to the body of the dead. The body will once again take on movement with a hint of the intellect it once had. This is a form of Necromancy that is kept secret for obvious reasons.” - The Lost Spells of Zoria
    W alter ran . The air was hot in his chest, his breath heaving, acid burning in his aching legs. How was he alive? Shouldn’t he be dead, unfeeling? He pawed at his throat, pressed at the thick coils of tissue around his neck like a garrote of scars. He spared a glance back over his shoulder. The beast was almost upon him. His heart was a storm of the ages, beating against his ribs. He willed his legs to move faster, could feel its humid breath prickling his skin. He could hear its pincers clanging off the stones like thousands of swords, harsh and biting in his ears. He couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t stop to catch his breath. Something felt like it was burning the skin on the back of his neck. He had to ignore it for now. It was a minor pain. Something he could easily stuff into the back of his mind.
    He was shirtless and sticky with a sheen of sweat. His flesh was twisted and mutilated with battle scars. Brutal stretches of thickened flesh ran in every direction across his chest, around his back, and up his ribs. Up and down his arms were tens of white, raised mountains of scars. They had healed at least. His skin felt tighter where they were, resisting his movements. Where had his armor gone? On his waist was his sword belt. His Breden stamped long sword banged against his hip with every footfall. He wore simple woolen trousers and soft leather boots.
    The demon had said he was in the Shadow Realm. Had he died? There had to be more than this. He should have been at peace now. The war should have ended for him. He was tired, so terribly tired. Maybe the stories were wrong after all. Maybe there would never be rest. The Shadow Realm was supposed to be a place of rest.
    He didn’t know how long he had been running. Minutes? Days? Time felt like it stretched out here. There was no sun, no moon, or stars to hang hope on. There was only him and the gnashing of teeth at his back. He swung his arms harder, driving his feet with his upper body. He was falling and catching himself with his legs before