This extract is from Chapter Four:
Bane said, “I am
on the same quest, but I cannot reveal myself. Telvaron will want to kill me.”
“Telvaron wants
to kill everyone,” the greying man said. “It’s just a matter of how and when.”
“True, but he
will hunt me down himself.”
“Why?”
Bane glanced
around, steeling himself to take the plunge. “I am a god.”
The men roared
with laughter for several minutes. Bane sipped his ambrosia and waited for the
hilarity to die down. The grey-haired man wiped his eyes, chortling.
“What sort?”
“I command the
darkness.”
The men fell
about again, hooting, and two were so overcome they slid under the table. Other
patrons drew closer to share the joke. Bane raised a hand and flicked his
fingers.
“Stop.”
Everyone in the
taproom froze except the five at his table, whose laughter died as they became
aware of the silence. They stared about, their expressions wary or
disbelieving. The grizzled man tore his eyes from the stationary scene and
gaped at Bane.
“You did that?
You… stopped time.”
“Yes.”
“To prove -”
“Yes.”
“So -”
“Yes.”
The man sat
back. “Why do you want to free the goddess? If you’re a master of the
darkness…”
“I fight for the
light.” Bane flicked his fingers. “Resume.”
The hubbub recommenced,
and the patrons who had taken an interest in the joke at his table returned to
their previous pursuits after a few moments of eyeing the now-solemn sextet.
“Oy!” A bellow
from across the room made Bane wince and close his eyes. “What the hell do you
think you’re playing at, old bean?” Dramon shouted.
Bane shot him a
glare. Dramon snorted and nudged his brother, and the two muttered.
“Who’s he?” the greying
man asked.
“Do not worry
about him. Do you want my help now?”
The man thrust
out a callused hand. “I’m Jogan.”
