Dark Moon

Lire ebook Dark Moon
Auteur: David Gemmell

Dark Moon
Chapter One
    Tarantio was a warrior. Before that he had been a sailor, a miner, a breaker of horses, and an apprentice cleric to an elderly writer. Before that a child: quiet and solitary, living with a widowed father who drank in the mornings and wept in the afternoons.
    His mother was an acrobat in a travelling group of gypsies, who entertained at banquets and public gatherings. It was from her he inherited his nimbleness of foot, his speed of hand and his dark, swarthy good looks. She had died of the plague when Tarantio was six years old. He could hardly remember her now, save for one memory of a laughing girl-woman who threw him high in the air. From his father he had - he believed - inherited nothing. Save, perhaps, for the demon within that was Dace.
    Now Tarantio was a young man and had lived with Dace for most of his life.
    A cold wind whispered into the cave. Tarantio's dark, curly hair had been shaved close to the scalp to prevent lice, and the draught chilled his neck. He lifted the collar of his heavy grey coat and, drawing one of his short swords, he laid it close to hand. Outside the rain was heavy, and he could hear water cascading down the cliff walls. The pursuers would surely have taken shelter somewhere.
    'They may be just outside,' whispered the voice of Dace in his mind. 'Creeping up on us. Ready to cut our throats.'
    'You'd like that, Dace. More men to kill.'
    'Each to his own,' said Dace amiably. Tarantio was too tired to argue further, but Dace's intrusion made him sombre. Seven years ago war had descended upon the Duchies like a sentient hurricane, sucking men into his angry heart. And in the whirling maelstrom of his fury he fed them hatred and filled them with a love of destruction. The War Demon had many faces, none of them kind. Eyes of death, cloak of plague, mouth of famine and hands of dark despair.
    War and Dace were made for each other. Within the beast's hungry heart Dace was in ecstasy. Men admired him for his lethal skills, for his deadly talents. They sought him out as if he were a talisman.
    Dace was a killer of men. There was a time when Tarantio had known how many had died under his blades.
    Before that, there was a time when he had remembered every face. Now only two remained firmly in his mind: the first, his eyes bulging, his jaw hanging slack, blood seeping over the satin sheets. And the second, a slim bearded thief and killer whose swords Tarantio now wore.
    Tarantio added two logs to the fire, watching the flame shadows dancing on the walls of the cave. His two companions were stretched out on the floor, one sleeping, the other dying. 'Why do you still think of the slaughter on the beach?' asked Dace. Tarantio shivered as the memories flared again.
    Seven years ago the old ship had been beached against a storm, the mast dismantled, the sail wrapped and laid against the cliff wall. The crew were sitting around fires talking and laughing, playing dice. Against all odds they had survived the storm.

Lire des autres livres

Maid for the Millionaire
That single phrase was all that resonated through my head as I walked through the forest path in the twilight hours of a beautiful day in June. Birds were chirping, the wheels on my suitcase were squeaking, my heart was pounding. As a fresh-out-of college 24 year old girl, my worries had changed in... Puis...
Le navigateur sur les mers du destin
A travers la pâle lumière bleue, le vaisseau d’or faisait voile, implacablement, dans leur sillage. Ses proportions étaient monstrueuses, il donnait une immense impression de puissance, sa proue gigantesque soulevait de part et d’autre d’énormes vagues écumeuses en fonçant sur eux sans bruit. C’est... Puis...
Phantoms
A breeze stirred the trees. The sky was cloudless. Coming out of the inn, with Bryce and Frank and Doc Paige and a few of the others behind him, Tal glanced up at the sun, the sight of which unlocked a memory of his childhood in Harlem. He used to buy penny candy at Boaz’s Newsstand, which was at th... Puis...
La guerre de l'opium
- sur la sacristie des pères jésuites de Shanghai. Elle avait été placée là par le père Giuseppe Giardini, le supérieur de la province de Chine. Ce jésuite natif de Padoue en avait fait venir deux exemplaires à grands frais, celui-ci et un autre, qui se trouvait à Macao dans une chapelle de l’... Puis...
Le Pain nu
Mon copain Kebdani gagnait. Il me restait vingt-cinq pésètes en poche. — Tu devrais t’arrêter, me dit-il. Aujourd’hui tu n’as pas de chance. — Garde tes conseils. Je sais ce que je fais de mon argent et aussi de moi-même. Au début de l’après-midi j’empruntai cinq pésètes à Kebdani et m’... Puis...