Read The Thieves of Blood: Blade of the Flame - Book 1 for Free Online Page A

taverngoers parted around the orc and the priest like rushing river water around a boulder lodged in midstream.
    The tavern was soon empty, save for Ghaji, Diran, andMakala, who hurried over to join them, crossbow in hand, a bolt nocked and ready.
    “Who are we up against?” Ghaji asked.
    “I’m not certain, but I think it may be the Black Fleet.”
    Ghaji’s expression turned grim. “Sixty raiders, you say?”
    Diran nodded. “Perhaps more.”
    “One thing certainly hasn’t changed about you, Diran,” Makala said. “You never were one to be overly concerned about the odds, but three against sixty?”
    “Four,” Yvka said. She walked over after Makala. Instead of appearing afraid, the elf-woman seemed calm, though alert. Ghaji noticed that she’d taken a trio of red wooden balls from a pouch that hung from her belt, and though he knew the idea was ridiculous, he couldn’t help but think that somehow she intended to use them as weapons.
    Both Diran and Makala turned to look at the elf-woman, as if only just noticing her.
    “This is Yvka,” Ghaji said. “She’s a … juggler.”
    Diran glanced at Ghaji and raised a questioning eyebrow.
    “I’m an acrobat as well,” Yvka said.
    Makala rolled her eyes. “Both are
extremely
useful skills when you’re fighting for your life.”
    “There’s no need for sarcasm,” Yvka said. “I don’t see anyone else who’s remained behind to help you.”
    It was true. Aside from the four of them, the tavern was now empty.
    “What is this Black Fleet?” Makala asked.
    “Pirates who fly under no flag,” Yvka said, “they ply the Lhazaar Sea, plundering villages and ships. But their main prey is people. Young, old, men, women … it doesn’t matter. Theytake gold, but it’s said what they really want is blood.”
    Screams erupted from the street, followed by the sound of clashing steel. The raiders had come.
    Without a word, Diran drew a pair of daggers and raced for the door. Ghaji ran after him, axe gripped tightly, Makala and Yvka close on his heels. The four of them burst out into the night and into a scene of complete chaos.

D ozens of raiders were attacking men and women in the streets. Steel rang as swords struck sparks off one another, and screams of agony pierced the night as those who had no weapons or possessed little skill in their use fell to the ground.
    The light cast by the moons revealed the raiders to be of similar aspect. They were human, most of them bald and clean-shaven, garbed in black leather armor and black boots. Each carried a long sword in one hand and a wooden cudgel in the other. Both males and females were represented in their ranks, though since the women were also bald, it was difficult to tell the genders apart.
    Directly outside the tavern, a male raider crossed swords with Barkan, the red-bearded man Ghaji had arm-wrestled. Barkan was fast with a blade, but the raider was faster, and he carried two weapons. The raider slammed his cudgel into the side of the other man’s head, and Barken collapsed to theground, unconscious or dead.
    Diran’s hand blurred as he hurled a dagger at the raider. The blade struck the bald man in the throat and blood sprayed the air. The raider dropped his weapons and reached up with a trembling hand to remove the dagger. Before his fingers could reach the hilt, a horrible gurgling sound escaped his mouth, and he fell to his knees, swayed, then slumped over onto his side next to Barken’s still form.
    One corner of Diran’s mouth ticked upward in cold satisfaction. “It’s like Emon used to say: ‘You can always count on a well-honed blade.’”
    A squad of raiders—three men and two women—had witnessed their companion’s death. They broke off what they were doing and came running toward Diran and others, clearly intending to avenge their fallen comrade.
    Makala’s crossbow twanged and a bolt slammed into the left eye of one of the female raiders. Such was the force of the blow that the