Page 15 of Path of the Dark
“Enough,” Reoul snapped. “Speak plainly.”
Gael shifted his attention back to him, his smile fading. “I’ve spent the last year exploring the lower levels of Dûn Maras,” he said softly, before he reached up and caressed the spine of the rat upon his shoulder. “It’s where Shade found me.”
Reoul suppressed a shudder. The man’s obvious affection for this … vermin … made his belly churn.
“I know what Valgarth used to make himself strong,” Gael pressed on, oblivious of Reoul’s reaction, “and I’ve mastered the same arts.”
Reoul inclined his head. Finally, this enchanter had revealed something of interest. The ruins of Dûn Maras was a forbidding place, where the living feared to enter. Only a madman would voluntarily spend time there.
“You’re lying,” Saskia snarled. “The Shadow King wielded both the Light and the Dark … he didn’t need anything else.”
Reoul glanced his consort’s way once more to see that her face was pale. Her eyes burned as she glared at Gael. She clearly thought him an imposter.
“What of these arts you speak of?” Reoul asked. He too was skeptical, but he had to know.
“Ones that Valgarth used to enhance the powers of the enchanters who followed him,” Gael countered with slow smile. “It’s all written down on parchments in the old tongue, parchments I found deep under Dûn Maras.”
