Dusk by Tim Lebbon

By Tim Lebbon

Kosar the thief senses that Rafe Baburn is not any usual boy. After witnessing a madman plunder Rafe's village and homicide his mom and dad, Kosar understands the boy wishes his aid. And now, for a cause he can't fathom, others are trying to find the boy's destruction. doubtful the place to start, Kosar turns to A'Meer, an ex-lover and Shantasi warrior whose humans, unbeknownst to him, were selected to shield magic's go back. A'Meer is familiar with immediately that it truly is Rafe who bears this miracle of magic. Now Kosar and a band of unforeseen allies embark on a conflict to guard one particular boy. For darkish forces are ultimate in–including the Mages, who've been plotting their very own effective go back.

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Sometimes he went inside the buildings, and occasionally there was a distant scream as he found someone hiding and silenced them at last. By the time his bloody route crossed and recrossed itself, he was barely moving. Kosar hid in the shadow of an overhanging rock on the valley slope, fascinated and terrified by what he was seeing. And seconds before he saw the Monk keel over and lie still at last, he caught sight of another shape beyond the village. It was on the facing hillside, so distant as to be little more than a speck moving on the gray rock face.

His parents had told him that these things had not worked since the War, but that they had been here forever. He passed the mine and approached Pavisse, and as he neared other people—and, he hoped, safety—the effects of the night truly began to weigh him down. His parents’ blood was a crisp across his face. His own, still dripping from the cut, had dried over it. Sometime during the night he had also soiled himself. Crying, trying to shout but far too tired to do so, mumbling about his dead village and inviting curious stares from the waking population of Pavisse, Rafe entered the town to find his uncle.

Chapter 4 RAFE’S ONLY SENSE was touch. He could feel the hands holding him down, the water sluicing his body, the rough scouring of something scraping across his stomach, his chest, then down between his legs. He struggled, but to no avail. He tried to open his eyes, thought he’d succeeded, but he saw only black. Either he was in total darkness or he was blind. He could not smell anything, and although the water trickled into his open mouth, there was no taste. He was panicking, but it seemed at a distance, a remote fear for the well-being of someone he knew only vaguely.

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