The Pale Tower
Chapter One Qiang Yang’s hands were cracked to the bone, a fact of his life as permanent as the rust on the hinge of the outpost door. It was the dry season, the air in the estuary town tasting of salt and dried kelp, and the mud on the restricted path had turned to a hard, grey crust that crunched under his boots. He stood with his rifle raised, the barrel steady despite the tremor in his left...
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