By David Dalglish
"Veldaren aches for a purge, and that i may be the one to convey it. Cry out at me if you want, however it will swap not anything. The gold is spent, the orders are given. allow the blood flow." ---- it has been 5 years because Haern faked his demise to flee the tyranny of his father. He has turn into the Watcher, a vicious killer who is aware no limits, and whose hatred of the thief guilds is unmatched. but if the son of Alyssa Gemcroft, one of many 3 leaders of the strong Trifect, is assumed murdered, the slaughter starts off anew. Mercenaries flood the streets, with one objective in brain: locate and kill the Watcher. A DANCE OF BLADES by means of David Dalglish Peace or destruction; each conflict should have its finish. ------ in regards to the writer: David Dalglish at present lives in rural Missouri along with his spouse Samantha, daughter Morgan, and snake, Velixar. He graduated from Missouri Southern kingdom college in 2006 with a level in arithmetic and at present spends his loose time looking at Spongebob Squarepants along with his daughter.
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Additional resources for A Dance of Blades: Shadowdance Trilogy, Book 2
He was often drunk. Like all his personae, he worked odd jobs, whatever paid him coin, and that gave him excuse to know things he shouldn’t know. Like how the Watcher had intercepted a shipment of gold from the Serpent Guild bearing the Gemcroft sigil. His contact was a one-eyed ruffian originally from the far west nation of Mordan. He leaned beside the entrance of an inn, smoking a long pipe. His name was Mensk. ” Mensk asked. He looked him over with his one eye, and he didn’t hide his shudder at Haern’s stink.
Hunger stirred in his belly, but he ignored it. Hunger, like loneliness and pain, had become a constant companion. He wouldn’t call it friend, though. “May you go to better hands,” Haern said to the first sack of gold before stabbing its side. Coins spilled, and he hurled them like rain to the packed streets. Without pause he cut the second and third, flinging them to the suddenly ravenous crowd. They dove and fought as the gold rolled along, bouncing off bodies and plinking into various wooden stalls.
His voice echoed in the chambers of his mind, slowly fading, slowly dying. “Nothing…” * Veliana led them down the alleyway, her daggers sheathed at her hip. Still, her hands never strayed far from their hilts. Something about this meeting felt worrisome. Perhaps it was the great amount of coin about to change hands. Ever since James Beren’s death, things had gone poorly for the Ash Guild. James had been more than their leader: he’d been a sign of stability during the chaos and bloodshed. He’d died defying Thren Felhorn, and while in a nobler world that might have meant something, in theirs it brought about the near dissolution of the guild.