Heirs of the Fallen: Book 02 - Crown of the Setting Sun by James A. West Page A

evidence there and, of course, my word against him. That last was key, for slaves do not accuse. For me to do so meant, to those who mattered, that I must be telling the truth. Neither the Faceless One nor the
Alon’mahk’lar
suffer even a hint of betrayal or opposition. Moreover, they delight in showing their displeasure with the disobedient—so much so that they gave me the privilege of tearing the skin from my master.”
    The Hunter’s eyes shined with something like glee. “I peeled him like an overripe fruit, boy, relishing every scream. He begged for forgiveness, but instead of bowing to the folly of mercy, I gave back to him in double measure all the vile gifts he had bestowed upon my flesh. On that day, boy, I was reborn.”
    Leitos thought he might vomit at the images flickering through his mind, but he did not.
Grow strong and cruel.
He still did not know exactly what that meant, but he was certain now that his grandfather had not intended for him to become like the Hunter, at least not exactly. And while he could understand why the Hunter had done what he had, Leitos’s sympathy had curdled, for he knew the man was rabidly insane.
    He shook his head slowly. “You suffered evils,” he allowed, “but you were not ‘reborn’ that day. I think what you held most precious, the spirit you thought to protect and set free, began to rot. Willingly or not, you became as much a soulless abomination as those you now serve. In that, you are no better than your mother.”
    The Hunter shot him an oddly stricken look, but Leitos ignored it, his thoughts turning inward. If he had learned anything from the Hunter’s tale, it was that self-deception, the so-called ‘lies and smiles’ was a deadly doctrine, a slow-acting poison that decayed a man, consumed him from within.
    All at once, the Hunter leaped across the space between them, catching hold of Leitos’s neck. He did not squeeze down, but the threat of power was there, the feeling that he could snap bones with no effort. “Judge me as you will, boy, but you are a weak, useless fool. You will waste away and die as a slave, as all your people have before you.” With a sound of disgust, he flung Leitos aside, and returned to the hares.
    Leitos sat up again, eyeing his captor. He struggled to bring his leaping thoughts under control.
    Here before him was a man who might have been great. If not for the Faceless One, he could have been a warrior or a lord or even a king. Instead, the Faceless One and his ilk had bent him to their will as they had so many others, made him a hater and hunter of men. They had destroyed the Hunter’s mother’s soul, much the same as they had broken the spirits of multitudes the world over, making wretched beasts of mankind, who then willingly turned on each other for little or nothing.
    That last was still hard to accept, but seemingly undeniable. And such, Leitos saw, was the Faceless One’s masterstroke. He had little need of great marauding armies to maintain power, for his subjects controlled themselves through their abiding mistrust of one another, and a desire to serve their own needs above the needs of others.
    More thoughts spun through Leitos’s head, but they faded in the light of just one: How could he avenge the dying race of mankind? The only answer was the same enigmatic command that had been alive in his mind since he fled the mines.
Grow strong and cruel.
It was little enough to go on, all that he had in truth.
    When the Hunter placed one of the roasted hares in Leitos’s hands, he abandoned all thoughts of not eating. Food would strengthen him and, he prayed, perhaps one strength would lead to gaining another, and another, until he could find a means to escape and resume his journey to find the Brothers of the Crimson Shield.

Chapter 11
    “W hat is that?” Leitos asked, tugging the collar of the itchy tunic his captor had provided to keep the worst of the harsh sunlight off his back and shoulders.
    While the