Soul Guard Black
Copyright 2011 By Dana A. Harvey
“This damn girl better show up, or we’re both dead”, Graham thought. he sat at the far end of the dank and moldy pub. He kept his hood on as he sipped at his ale, being sure to make no eye contact with anyone so as not to draw attention. Due to the slightly irregular shape of his face and the scar that ran the length of his neck from the bottom of one ear to the other, he knew he would be an easy description to remember should the Demmock's men come calling. His stout chin and wide jaw-line would be a dead giveaway. He sipped with an ever increasing urgency. Every second was a torturous event tonight. Despite the boasting and laughing of the distracted patrons, he knew he wouldn’t be safe until he had what he sought. He looked at the Star brand on the wall. He thought for a moment how amazing it was that Lord Persephinie could devise a machine that could calculate time down to a second using the deflection angles of the stars. He had no idea what that meant, but it sounded very complex. "Give me a sharp piece of steel and a target or two any day", he mumbled to himself. "By the Rush, I would even sooner throw rocks at a bee hive. To Bane’s mouth with the damn stars ", he said to himself.