The Spaces Between (A Drunkard's Journey) Read Online Free Page A

who are they?” Qainur hadn’t noticed the ridiculousness of the situation. His face was wide and bright—that of an old kid who hears a ghost story for the first time.
    “They—” again he glanced up and down the road. Seriously, what is the matter with talking about this? Zhy wondered. Torplug continued, “They are called the Knights of the Black Dawn.”
    Zhy could not stifle a guffaw. “What meaning does Black Dawn possibly have?”
    “They—”
    Zhy cut him off. “And why name them at all? If they are such a secret society, why even give them a name?” He sounded exasperated. It was too much. A skilled bandit he could understand. But a secret society that was full of them? Well why not? he thought, shrugging and thumbing his earlobe.
    Torplug growled in his throat, loud enough that Zhy thought for a moment it was Qainur. “Zhy, you can laugh all you want at whatever name the group has chosen. It does not make them any less dangerous.”
    “Aye,” Qainur muttered. “He is right at that, Zhy.”
    Zhy grimaced and then scowled. “I suppose you are right.”
    “And so,” Torplug said quietly, resuming his explanation, “while technically belonging under the control of the Holy Orders, they may be controlled indirectly, but that was just a rumor I heard at University. In fact their very existence is pretty much a rumor…sure, we’ve seen paintings of those who claim to have run into them, but if you ask a common man, a mayor, or even a high-ranking member of the Counsel Guard, they will deny them entirely. In any case, they are elite. They are not just blade masters. Some are mages as well. We were lucky back there.” He stopped, perhaps thinking of the various horrid possibilities of facing a mage.
    “And are they only in Belden or in Welcfer, too?” Qainur asked.
    “Both. I heard of them at University in Welcfer, but I have Beldener contacts who have said they saw one once while fishing a remote stream. Who knows? Welcferians don’t ask many questions, though…they just want to harvest their turnips and play their card games. It’s a land where men are prostitutes…perhaps that explains it all.”
    He let Zhy and Qainur ponder that for a while. They were passing through a stand of birches and maples, and fall colors washed the trio in a vibrant kaleidoscope of yellows, reds, greens, and golden browns. The men were quiet, admiring the pure autumn scene that seemed in such stark contrast to an Order that was filled with vicious assassins. The ground was filling up with the colors as well, as tufts of wind would gently knock the leaves from their branches. When they at last passed into a stand of green balsams, Torplug continued his explanation.
    “In any case, it is rumored that the Knights do several things. Some are good, and some are not-so-good.”
    “Such as?” Zhy asked.
    “They’ve been called demon hunters, baby-stealers, thieves, you name it.... but the truth, is, they do hunt demons.”
    Qainur whistled.
    “Demons, huh,” Zhy wondered aloud. “They live in the shadows and hunt shadows?”
    Torplug shrugged. “Could be, if that is what they were doing. What bothers me is that I don’t know why he attacked you, Qainur. Did you say anything to him?”
    “No, of course not!” Zhy glanced up at Qainur quickly, and Zhy swore Qainur’s face drained of color, if only for a fraction of a second.
    The mage shook his head slowly. “Then I have no idea. But they can surely be a dangerous group. I just am not sure why they attacked you.” He absently brushed a bright red maple leaf off the pommel of his saddle.
    Qainur became increasingly morose as they rode on. The sun sidled across the sky, but was muted by high clouds. The smells of autumn grew stronger.
    After a quarter of an hour, Qainur cleared his throat. “Torplug?”
    “Yes?”
    “Are you a member of the Knights of the Black Dawn?”
    The small-man coughed. “What kind of question—”
    “I was just wondering. You seem