Night of Long Shadows

PROLOGUE

The first night of Long Shadows Zor, the 26th day of Vult, 998

Torin heard the noise again, a loud banging as if someone was pounding on the walls.

He frowned and looked up. The shelves of Morgrave University library receded from the tiny pool of light his everbright lantern created, melting into the shadows of deep night. He listened, but all he could hear was the rain pouring down outside the huge window behind him. He looked over his shoulder. The panes of lead-lined glass revealed only the darkness of Sharn. The panels glimmered slightly as runnels of rainwater caught the light of a distant skycoach.

He was alone. Or at least, he thought he was. Who else would be here at this time of night? He shouldn’t even be here, but Wren had told him to do a bit of research for a case he was thinking of taking on. A bit of research. That was a joke. He’d been here half the night already and he still hadn’t found the information Wren wanted.

But that was typical of the way things worked. Torin did all the leg work while Wren threw one of his lavish parties.

There. There it was again. A muffled thud. But louder this time. And it hadn’t come from inside the library, but from outside, in the university commons.

Torin swiveled around and carefully slid off the high stool, landing on the wooden floor with a slight thud. He gave a small sigh. Why didn’t they supply chairs for people his size, anyway? It wasn’t as if dwarves were a rarity in academia.

He padded silently to the stairs, leaning over the banister and looking down. The stairwell descended into blackness. He couldn’t see any lights or anything else that would reveal that someone was inside. So where had the noise come from?

Then he heard a loud crash, like something smashing through a wall, from the floor below him. Torin hurried down the stairs and paused on the landing. It led into a corridor where some of the professors had their living quarters.

Maybe it wasn’t any of his business …

He heard a cry of pain. No, something was going on. Torin ran down the passage to the door through which the noises were coming. He tried the handle and the door swung open into a brightly lit room.

Torin took a small step inside.

And froze, his eyes widening in shock at the scene before him.

A huge man, over six feet tall, with two strangely curved blades held in each hand, stood over a horribly mutilated body. The man was covered in blood and breathing heavily, staring down at the victim.

A gasp escaped Torin’s lips and the intruder swung around to face him. The man’s hair was so short that he looked almost bald. Strange tattoos worked their way up his arms and around his neck, partially concealed beneath the blood and gore.

Torin fumbled in his jacket for his knife. The hilt snagged in the lining. He tugged at it, desperate to free it before-

He looked up. Too late. The man was running straight for him. Torin stumbled backward, managing to free the knife. The man lashed out, smacking the dwarf in the face and sending him crashing into the door frame. Torin quickly climbed to his feet, his blade held defensively before him, but the man was running up the stairs.

Torin sprinted after him, grabbing the banister and hauling himself up the steps in pursuit. When he reached the library, he stopped, sucking in great gulps of air, and peered up the stairwell. The man was already at the top floor. There was no way the dwarf could catch him.

Torin winced, feeling a stitch coming on. Host, but he was unfit. It was all that expensive food Wren insisted on eating. How was he supposed to resist it?

He turned and walked slowly back down the stairs. He’d have to find someone and tell them what had happened.

At least the murderer shouldn’t be too hard to find. A six-and-a-half foot tall maniac with a dragon tattoo on his arms?

Even the Sharn Watch should be able to handle that.