He didn’t hesitate to ask his men to do the same, either. He was a warrior who did what needed to be done, when it needed to be done, no matter what was required of him. Damned admirable.īrave men didn’t spill their secrets, and Sabin wanted their secrets. A few had their shoulders squared, their noses in the air, hatred in their eyes, refusing to back down even in defeat. They’d already been stripped of their weapons, hustled into a corner and bound with rope. Now bodies littered every square inch of the small corridor, the scent of fatality already rising from them.Nine of his enemy had survived the attack. Half an hour ago it had been honey brown, grains sparkling and scattering as they’d marched. The sandy floor was thick like paste, wet and colored black. Walls that were now spattered with vivid red, dripping…pooling. Torches flickered orange and gold, twining with shadows along the stone walls. SABIN, KEEPER OF THE DEMON of Doubt, stood in the catacombs of an ancient pyramid, panting, sweating, his hands soaked in his enemy’s blood, his body cut and bruised as he surveyed the carnage around him.
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