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The Weeping Blade

Larem raised his hands to shield his face from the stone and bone fragments that were sure to hit him—yet rather than the satisfying crunch of an undead monster smashed to bits, there came only a muted thud and a hiss of displeasure.

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The Weeping Blade

The Weeping Blade by Josh Vogt Chapter Two: Touch of the Grave Larem hissed and dropped the silver piece, yet his fingertips burned from the frigid contact. ... The person remained before him, and Larem could sense its silent mockery. He reached for his dagger. ... Who are you? ... His tormenter shifted with a creak of leather. Its every movement groaned and crackled with age. ... No, not age, Larem realized as he caught another whiff of grave dust. Death. An undead creature leered at him,...
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The Weeping Blade

Larem winced as Dargley spouted his usual gibberish. He leaned over and nudged his fellow beggar.

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A Matter of Knives

Boots went, hastily.

From her hiding place behind a stack of shipping crates, Tantaerra leaned forward, trying to get as close to the conversation as possible without being seen. Bendrar was Loryn Garldrake's son, and the woman giving orders had to be Semdeira Sarpent.

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A Matter of Knives

Tantaerra hastily transferred her hands to just the bottom edge of the crate-lid as she backed away—and the first slashing blows fell on it, numbingly hard.

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