A Prince Among Killers - By J. B. Redmond Page 0,2

in the center. The taste in his mouth soured like the dead mocker’s venom, and he couldn’t stop staring at the pieces of the creature’s corpse.

Death.

Death and killing.

These were things he had to embrace. He had slaughtered hogs, dispatched manes, plotted the deaths of Lord Brailing and his Guard, even watched Stormbreaker give a boy Mercy, but—

But real death, real killing of a thing with a human baby’s face—

Aron’s hands shook until the tips of dagger and short sword danced across swirling bits of fog. The sight of the gory blades made his insides lurch. A coldness overtook him as he resisted surrender to grief and a bitter wave of gut-sickness, like the coldness he felt when he’d realized his family was murdered because of him. Like the coldness of the air itself, deep and without limit.

“Concentrate,” he whispered to himself, sounding like a Stone training master, and gradually his awareness returned to his full control. Immediately, he knew more scavengers were lurking in the low-hanging clouds shrouding the path to the Ruined Keep. They growled softly as they tracked the scent of his fresh kill.

It was move now, or meet the bloodthirsty worst of Eyrie’s Deadfall, Outlands, and Barrens.

Aron’s teeth chattered as he wiped his blades on the leg of his gray pants, but by the time he set off toward the Ruined Keep, he had mastered his chill. His gray cheville felt icy and heavy against his ankle as he made progress, first in minutes, then in stretches of minutes, then hours.

How far was the Keep—another hour ahead? Maybe two?

There was still no sign or hint of Galvin. Aron’s muscles ached, but the chilled weight of his cheville continued to comfort him as he covered more and more of the foggy, rocky path. At least when something killed him, the cheville would keep his soul safely bound to his body until it could be dispatched. He wouldn’t become a carnivorous mane, sliding through the darkness searching for prey.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the unmistakable moans of the hungry and restless dead drifted toward him from the south, from the patch of Deadfall that touched the point of Triune.

Aron’s skin tightened against his bones. He walked faster, then began to jog.

Some distance later, when the moans grew louder, he ran, slicing at the fog as if he could part it with his weapons. He would rather be fodder for mockers or natural predators than a meal for manes.

From ahead in the fog, Galvin shouted.

The bellowing growls of rock cats drowned the older boy’s yelling.

Aron hesitated for only the briefest second, then shoved aside the flash of anger at the older boy for being cruel, for leaving him behind. No decent person would leave another to be eaten by wild animals, and Stormbreaker was counting on Aron to do what was right, to acquit himself without the use of his legacy.

Aron plowed through the mists, blind now, seeing nothing but white fog and drops of water. His heart slammed in time with his motions, and the muffled crack of a sword striking stones rattled his mind. He burst onto a clear, open patch of ground, and before he could orient himself to the parting of the fog, a rock cat barreled toward him.

The cat pounced.

Aron swept his short sword upward and caught the cat in its throat. Its claws sliced into his shoulders and arms as it fell dead, and Aron cried out from the fiery bursts of pain. Hot blood trickled onto his chilled skin as he made out Galvin still ahead of him, swinging his sword at three more attacking cats.

The nearest beast had its back to Aron. He ignored the throbbing ache in his wounded arms and leaped forward like Tek might have done in battle. Once more, he brought his short sword down in a jabbing swipe. The blade sank into the rock cat’s back between its shoulders, driving the animal against the rocky path. It rolled in its death throes, ripping the hilt of the sword from Aron’s grasp.

“Cayn’s teeth!” He lunged for the sword, but one of the cats swiped his ankle with knifelike claws.

Fresh agony staggered Aron. He couldn’t get a grip on the sword hilt and swung wildly at the cat with his dagger. The beast howled as the small blade sliced across its nose, but it gave no ground.

Aron’s blood thundered in his ears as the rock cat’s muscles bunched to attack. He fumbled to free his sword from the