Read Shadows Linger: A Novel of the Black Company (Chronicles of The Black Company) for Free Online Page B

progression eastward. I was appalled to learn the truth. Tome was two thousand miles east of Charm! Far beyond the bounds of the empire as it had existed six years ago. The great bloody conquests of the Taken Whisper had established a border arc just this side of the Plain of Fear. I ran down the line of city-states forming that forgotten frontier. Frost and Ade, Thud and Barns, and Rust, where the Rebel had defied the Lady successfully for years. Huge cities all, formidable, and the last such we had seen. I still shuddered, recalling the Plain of Fear.
    We crossed it under the aegis of Whisper and Feather, two of the Taken, the Lady’s black apprentices, both sorceresses orders of magnitude above our three puny wizards. Even so, and traveling with entire armies of the Lady’s regulars, we suffered there. It is a hostile, bitter land where none of the normal rules apply. Rocks speak and whales fly. Coral grows in the desert. Trees walk. And the inhabitants are the strangest of all.… But that is neither here nor there. Just a nightmare from the past. A nightmare that haunts me still, when the screams of Cougar and Fleet come echoing down the corridors of time, and once again I can do nothing to save them.
    “What’s the trouble?” Elmo asked, slipping the map from beneath my fingers, cocking his head sideways. “Look like you saw a ghost.”
    “Just remembering the Plain of Fear.”
    “Oh. Yeah. Well, buck up. Have a beer.” He slapped my back. “Hey! Kingpin! Where the hell you been?” He charged away, in pursuit of the Company’s leading malingerer.
    One-Eye arrived a moment later, startling me. “How’s Goblin?” he asked softly. There had been no intercourse between them since Madle’s. He eyed the map. “The Empty Hills? Interesting name.”
    “Also called the Hollow Hills. He’s all right. Why don’t you check him out?”
    “What the hell for? He was the one who acted the ass. Can’t take a little joke.…”
    “Your jokes get a bit rough, One-Eye.”
    “Yeah. Maybe. Tell you what. You come with me.”
    “Got to prepare my reading.” One night a month the Captain expects me to exhort the troops with a reading from the Annals. So we’ll know where we came from, so we’ll recall our ancestors in the outfit. Once that meant a lot. The Black Company. Last of the Free Companies of Khatovar. All brethren. Tight. Great esprit. Us against the world, and let the world watch out. But the something that had manifested itself in Goblin’s behavior, in the low-grade depression of Elmo and others, was affecting everybody. The pieces were coming unglued.
    I had to pick a good reading. From a time when the Company had its back against the wall and survived only by clinging to its traditional virtues. There have been many such moments in four hundred years. I wanted one recorded by one of the more inspired Annalists, one with the fire of a White Rose revivalist speaking to potential recruits. Maybe I needed a series, one that I could read several nights running.
    “Crap,” One-Eye said. “You know those books by heart. Always got your nose in them. Anyway, you could fake the whole thing and nobody would know the difference.”
    “Probably. And nobody would care if I did. It’s going sour, old-timer. Right. Let’s go see Goblin.”
    Maybe the Annals needed a rereading on a different level. Maybe I was treating symptoms. The Annals have a certain mystic quality, for me. Maybe I could identify the disease by immersing myself, hunting something between the lines.
    Goblin and Silent were playing no-hands mumbletypeg. I’ll say this for our three spook-pushers: They aren’t great, but they keep their talents polished. Goblin was ahead on points. He was in a good mood. He even nodded to One-Eye.
    So. It was over. The stopper could be put into the bottle. One-Eye just had to say the right thing.
    To my amazement, he even apologized. By sign, Silent suggested we get out and let them conclude their peace in