A Secret from the Past

“Death is too good for you, jackal.” The words were spoken with a deadly precision, and Arnan absently noted that her voice would have had a soft, lilting quality to it had it not been so infused with venom. He knew better then to speak, she was already pressing the blade harshly against his throat and he could feel the first trickle of blood run from the sword. Anytime now, Deus, anytime. The thought surprised him. Arnan wasn’t one to place his hope in a distant, hateful, being. He slowly studied his opponent’s eyes in a hope to find some sign of weakness, but all he saw was concentrated hatred. Why? It was a question even more perplexing then how she had tracked him. He stared for a few more moments before deliberately blinking his eyes. As his eyelids closed a terrible image rose before his mind’s eye and a sickening horror filled him. He knew her.

“Meridel?” His question was tentative. A flicker of hate ran through her eyes at his recognition.


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