Born of Oak and Silver (The Caradoc Chronicles) (36 page)

“This doe
s not end with me . . .,” she began to say, but was overcome as the runes began to burn away her face.

I leaned over her, feeling
neither gratification nor pity. I grabbed a fist full of her hair and jerked her body up from where she had huddled on the floor. I looked into her still frightened eyes as I thrust the Sword into her chest.

She conv
ulsed, her eyes bulging, as she fell against me. She was heavy, so much more than I expected. I fell with her against the stack of logs that were behind us. Her wheezing grew laborious as her good hand moved slowly away from where it had lain on my chest.

I jerked away as she began to cackle.
But it was too late. She had snapped the heavy chain that secured the logs to the wall. They boomed as they collided, tumbling from their neat stacks to crash upon the floor. We were buried under their immeasurable weight.

I lay there, feeling
as life slipped away from my body, broken and bruised beyond repair.

Death was surely almost instantaneous, but those final moments lingered as if
they were an eternity. Within the last ounces of my living consciousness, I heard the blaring of trumpets sounding in unlikely harmony with the baying of hounds. The rumble of hooves resonated in the logs above me.

The cold embrace of death slipped over me, and I succumbed at last to the darkness.

To be continued . . .

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading my book!

Before you give up hope,

Remember that darkness must

Always give way to light.

Believe me when I say there is still much light to give.

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I couldn’t keep writing without you.

And, be sure to

Look for the continuation of Daine’s story,

Born of Ash and Iron
,

In October 2014

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