《The Sunborn Series: Book 2》


 Death Comes For Us All

    ¡°Run!¡± Fabien shouted, his voice hoarse and cracking.


    The beating of Fabiens heart slammed against his rib cage, his body shook with adrenaline as he ran behind his mother in the dark of night.


    The echo of feet on cobstones behind him and his mother urged them on. They grew closer and closer.


    Moonlight fought off the darkness, trying to infiltrate the corners and angles of shadows in the small alleyways of Galeth, a small trading city on the coast south of Landor.


    His mother, Lucille ran in front of him, small gasps and ragged breathing as she slowed in their race against their foes.


    Fabien felt the blood of his Praetorians still wet on his face and dampening the cloth of his shirt. The thing stuck to him, cold now.


    His heartbeat echoed in his ears.


    He¡¯d shouted and shouted when they¡¯d first been attacked.


    The people of Galeth, many of them rich merchants, or sailors did not have doors to knock on along the streets. Long stone walls, iron gates and space between the places was all to be found in the night. The shops all closed, windows shuttered, darkness complete.


    This was not a place that you wanted to find yourself running for your life.


    So, Fabien and his mother ran for their ships. A set of Ralarian cutters, aFabien knew that if they could make the shoreline, they would live. Their soldiers, whom they¡¯d foolishly told to stay on the ships would be there. Only two had come with them . Two who¡¯d been savaged by four clocked men emerging from the darkness.


    The Sunborn Praetorians. Hard men of war.


    Fabien glanced back grey cloaked men. They¡¯d said nothing in their killing of the Praetorians. Simply fell upon them as they journeyed back to their accommodations.


    The four men were close behind, inky splotches in the dark behind Fabien, fading in and out of shadows in the lamplight.


    ¡°I can see the masts!¡± Fabien¡¯s mother shouted.


    Fabien wrenched his gaze from behind and looked up atop the buildings.


    In the pale moonlight, the masts of the ships were growing closer. A beacon of hope against the darkness.


    A scream filed the night.


    Fabien looked down from the masts in time to see his mother falling to the hard cobbeled stone road.


    Fabien had to throw himself to the side to avoid falling over his mother. He lost his footing and spilled ot the earth, slamming into a long stone wall.


    ¡®Mother!¡± He shouted, gasping for breath and scrambling to her side.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    He pulled at her, looking backward as he did.


    The men were gaining, almost upon them.


    ¡°Go!¡± His mother pushed him away.


    ¡°Get up Mother! We have to go!¡± Fabien pleased, pulling at her arm.


    A scream of agony came form his mother, one he¡¯d not heard from her before. One h¡¯ed only heard on the battlefields of the South.


    A scream that he knew, but could not accept.


    ¡°Save yourself! Go! I cannot go on!¡± His mother sobbed,.


    Fabien felt dread creeping into his heart.


    His mother¡¯s leg was bloody, laying at an unnatural angle to her body.


    ¡°Son, please, GO!¡± She shouted.


    Fabien could see torchlight beyond them, down towards the docks. Men shouted in the night.


    Small shapes moved in the darkness.


    He knew in his heart that they would not be able to save him and his mother.


    Fabien felt the tears, looking back through blurry eyes at the gray cloaked men.


    ¡°Fabien!¡± Lucille cried again.


    Fabien could hear fear and anger in his mothers voice and it broke his heart. She knew they faced death. He knew it to. But he still held hope that he might save her, or at least give their Praetorians time to get to them.


    The assassins were upon him.


    ¡°I love you mother.¡± Fabien said to his mother, a tight smile on his face.


    Fabien stood upright and drew his sword. He sucked at the air, breathing heavily from his run for his life.


    Four men against he and his mother? Four men who¡¯d killed two of the best Praetorians n all of Landor?


    He knew then that they had to make this ships.


    But now? He knew that the sword was the only answer.


    Gone were the sobs from his mother. Gone was the flights for life.


    He breathed in, and out, watching.


    The four men arrayed themselves across the street, from stone wall to stone wall.


    Fabein rolled his shoulders, squaring himself to the middle of the pack of killers. Their blades glinted in the night, catching what little light there was from the mon.


    Fabien breathed in, and out.


    Calm yourself. Focus.


    He preached the words of his blade master, Gorthos of the Ambi. A slight tribesman of the North. His slight frame made many underestimate him, his skills with a blade almost mythical.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Fabien asked, his voice cold but ragged.


    The four men in gray cloaks said nothing, fanning out as they came at him.


    Fabien bounced on the balls of his feet as he focused on the killers in front of him. He would not cower, he would not beg.


    He would fight them to the death.


    He was a Sunborn, he was the son of Dragh.


    ¡°HIC SUNT DRACONES!¡± Fabien screamed out,


    The young Sunborn leap forward to meet the charging killers. He swung his sword to the right at the furthest man, fiending a down stroke from the upper guard and them thrusting his sword into the man¡¯s chest.


    The hooded figure blocked the savage thrust and turned Fabien¡¯s blade upward, pushing it into the cloaked man¡¯s shoulder.


    Fabien kicked out at the second man closest to him and pulled his blade back from the first.


    The two men on the left pushed forward, towards Fabien¡¯s mother.


    Fabien shouted something unintelligible and launched himself at the other two men, hitting the first one, wrapping his hands around the man¡¯s body and driving him into the other.


    The trio crashed into the stone wall that lined the street and collapsed to the ground.


    Fabien lost his grip on his sword as he fell to the ground. He kicked and punched, not sure which way was up as he rolled with the two gray cloaked men.


    A blow to the face dazed him momentarily.


    ¡°Son!¡± His mother shouted.


    Fabien glanced back at his mother, now on her one good leg, blood soaking her bad leg. He could see the tears on her flushed face. He felt a crushing realization that they were going to die. That nothing he could do would save her.


    Gray robes blocked his view as he felt a sharp pain.


    Fabien let out an involuntary scream as he felt a blade in his stomach, the pain exiting his back.


    He thrashed out at the third man who¡¯d stabbed him.


    He lost consciousness for a moment, then woke to more stabbing pains. His body erupted in a fiery pain. Searing where blades entered his body.


    Over and over the killers stabbed him.


    A heart wrenching scream came from behind Fabien. He lacked the strength to move now, his front bloody from the sword thrusts. His eyes grew heavy as the ache of his wounds


    ¡°Mother.¡± Fabien coughed blood.


    The scream was cut short as Fabien¡¯s eyes closed, true darkness fell over him.

 Chapter 1

    ¡°Bring this DOG to heel!¡± The shout cut through the angry rumbling of the crowd.


    Harin looked into the crowd of nobles and lords that filled the throne room of Landor.


    The well dressed men and women of the courts of Landor had broken down into a mob when the subject of occupation was raised.


    ¡°Sire?¡± A praetorian stepped forward from behind Harin.


    Harin held his hand up to stay the man from entering the shouting crowd. ¡°Hold Brago.¡±


    Harin stood from his throne, the weight of the crown shifting on his head and digging into his brow.


    ¡°He¡¯s occupying my lands! Recall your Legion Harin! you threaten war with us.¡±


    ¡°My good Lords, please let us speak about this with civility, as Zufier would want us to.¡± A tall man stepped forward from the crowd and put his hands up to calm the lords and leaders of the throne room.


    The tall man was slim, his face pale, his skin a parlor color of one who did not seek the sun. His clothing was tailored and edged with gold.


    The crowd¡¯s rumblings reduced to a murmur as the priest of The Church of Zufier spoke out


    ¡°Thank you Father Kent.¡± Harin said, nodding to the priest. ¡°My lords, you must forget who you speak to. So for that, I will forgive you.¡±


    Silence hung in the air, the crowd of lords bristled at the comment, but said nothing.


    Harin watched as some of the lords looked to the priest and then back to Harin. The others nodded along, agreeing that the priest went too far.


    All in Landor knew that the Council was really behind the new church of Zufier.


    ¡°The lords simply ask for justice to be served. They ask for peace to return to the lands to the south. We know that they are affected so by the armies being there.¡± Father Kent spread his hands out to Karin, fiending simplicity.


    Harin could see the cold calculation happening behind the Priests eyes.


    For a moment he considered setting his young Praetorians on the priest. He knew that every word of his court would go to the council. Every word that the priest thought might benefit him.


    ¡°I will speak with the General.¡± Harin commented.


    A new eruption of anger could not be calmed by the priest. The lords of Landor, all of them would not be placated this time.


    ¡°The butcher of Baratan!¡± One shouted, comforted in anonymity. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°He is out of control!¡± Another protested.


    Harin took a deep breath in, not letting his anger spill out, starring ahead into the angry mob.


    They rallied, complained, and shouted at Harin.


    ¡°Lords!¡± Harin put his own hands up this time, calling for quiet.


    The group continued, faces red and angry.


    ¡°My Liege?¡± a young Praetorian, Brago asked from beside the King.


    Harin shook his head. ¡°Let them have it out. This horse needs to have it¡¯s head¡­¡±


    Movement at the back of the throne room caught Harin¡¯s eye. The door to the room opened up, silent in it¡¯s small movement as three men slipped into the room.


    Their clothing was travel worn and dusty. All of them bearded and rough.


    Harin smirked, letting his lips move slightly before putting the mask of command back on his face.


    The lords and the priest did not turn to see the men quietly enter the throne room, instead they stared beyond Harin, into the shadows beyond the throne.


    Harin could not help himself but smile broadly as the once loud men quieted in front of him. To a man, even the priest.


    You could feel the shift of power in the room.


    ¡°Please, continue your requests to the crown.¡± Harin said to them.


    None continued.


    ¡°General.¡± Harin greeted his father.


    ¡°My liege.¡± Dragh came to stand at Harin¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Please, Lords, continue.¡± Dragh barked.


    The crowd was silent, the prospect of facing the man they accused of butchery, of invading the south suddenly not appealing.


    Harin chuckled aloud, tired of the games of courts.


    ¡°If there are no more issues, then we will speak of other business in Landor.¡± Harin waved.


    The mob of men parted, as one man strode forward to speak.


    Harin raised an eyebrow. ¡°Lord Parse.¡±


    The Lord Parse was the Master of the Merchants Guild, out of the province of Renthan, far south of Landor. He was slight in his robes, with paunch at his middle from years of ease. His hair receded from his forehead, but he kept it long and tied at the back.


    ¡°My Liege.¡± Parse bowed to the throne. ¡°He needs to leave Renthan. He needs to remove himself from the southern provinces.¡±


    Dragh scoffed at the demands.


    Harin watched as Parse¡¯s fists clenched. His face tightened.


    ¡°The Guild DEMANDS it.¡±


    Harin raised his eyebrow again. The threat in Parse¡¯s demand blatant in front of the men and women of Landor¡¯s court.


    ¡°The army will leave the southern provinces when we find those responsible for the death of the Sunborns.¡± Dragh said, his voice low and heavy.


    ¡°You forget who fought for you, who died for the throne in the revolt!¡± Lord Horatius of Renthan stepped forward, embolden by the Merchant who truly spoke for his province. ¡°We fought for you when the south revolted, tried to steal what belonged to Landor!¡±


    ¡°Honor is demanded when family blood is spilled.¡± Cann said.


    The court looked back to the Tribesmen from the North. A man  of the Argu, defenders of the Tribes.


    The Tribes deligation, no longer under the dominion of Landor were quiet. They rarely weighed in on Landor¡¯s dealings, but held their seat of power in the court due to Kallen¡¯s accords with them after the invasion of the East decades before.


    Dragh nodded to Cann.


    Harin nodded. ¡°Aye, and you think that gives you leave to command a King?¡±


    Horatius looked over to Parse and then to Father Kent.


    Father Kent stepped forward, his voice calm and understanding. ¡°My leige, of course the fine people of the southern provinces are simply asking if it is possible for the Legions to be recalled. It is after all very disruptive to trade.¡±


    ¡°My Legions buy their grain, their weapons, their clothing, the very food they eat from the southern provinces.¡± Dragh said.


    The priest looked at Dragh with anger, before the look quickly disappeared to the calm demeanor that he¡¯d held before.


    ¡°Of course General -¡± Father Kent started.


    ¡°You¡¯re KILLING my people!¡± Lord Horatious shouted.


    ¡°My son and my wife were killed in YOUR Province Lord Horatius. I will find those responsible.¡± Dragh said, his words daggers.


    Harin fixed his gaze on the lord. ¡°Enough.¡± he said quietly.


    All were quiet again.


    The air was thick with frustration. The court was tense.


    ¡°I will speak with the General about your concerns.¡±


    Harin turned and walked  away from the crowd of men and women, his Praetorian¡¯s following.


    ¡°General, I¡¯ll see you now.¡± Harin called back.


    Dragh glared at the court of Landor. They fled his gaze for the doors.

 Chapter 2

    ¡°General.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s General now, not father?¡± Dragh asked, standing next to the fire, holding his hands out.


    Harin walked around the chairs to the back of the room, pulling his iron crown from his brow and placing it gently on the hook his grantfather had kept the crown on. The ware marks from where the iron crown had rocked back and forth from every king had worn into the stone where the hook had been installed. The crown was simple iron with points protruding from it around it¡¯s circumfrence.


    The edge of Fall was upon them, the hot summer days were turning now closer to the Car Launch Mountains.


    Harin sat down behind his desk, a small thing covered in scrolls, quills and ink pots. The room was an offshoot of the throne room. A sitting room for the king to entertain and speak more privately with smaller parties.


    The room hadn¡¯t changed since Dragh was a boy. It looked as if his father had still been there. Stone walls with tapestries all around, a fire in the fireplace, the same marks on the desk from when he¡¯d cut mark in the front of it with his first dagger.


    Dragh looked over and smiled. ¡°You know, your grandfather used to keep that thing just as messy as you. He knew where everything was, mind you.¡±


    Harin sighed. ¡°Where is Hemmelle? I saw Cello, Pello and Geral.¡±


    Dragh grunted.


    ¡°My spies tell me that the sickness is getting worse. That the church is getting stronger up here.¡± Dragh said.


    Harin laughed. ¡°We have the same spies, General.¡±


    Dragh looked at his son and shook his head. ¡°You have 156, I have 127. Tasia has more than both of us.¡±


    Harin nodded. ¡°Where is Hemmelle General, my spies tell me he was spotted headed through the Car Launch going north?¡±


    Dragh crossed the small study and sat in the high backed chair across from Harin. ¡°Hemmelle is busy. Why are you putting up with this pretend church Harin?¡±


    Harin looked down at his desk, realizing what was in front of him. The papers of requisition from his Praetorian Legion to the armorers in Landor. Anger filled him, bile in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling the papers off his desk and pushing them into a drawer to deal with later.


    ¡°The pit with the Church son, they are a proxy, nothing more!¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°Because the Church of Zufier is something that the people want Dragh. And I am their King. Who am I to tell them they cannot have it? You want a revolt in Landor?¡± Harin said, straining to keep his anger at bay, his tone even.


    ¡°They are a stain. Worse, a puppet of The Council.¡±


    Dragh met Harin¡¯s stare.


    He knew his sons tricks. He¡¯d taught them.


    ¡°The Council supports the Church. Nothing more.¡±


    Dragh laughed. ¡°You and I know that to be a lie. They infest cities, nations. They use the secrets of the people to control. It¡¯s nothing more than a tool to them to complete their power.¡±


    ¡°They have the Compact, General. What more is there to it?¡± Harin asked.


    ¡°The Compact. You should never have signed it.¡± Dragh dropped his voice.


    Harin sighed. ¡°If you¡¯d taken the crown from your father, you could have refused to sign it. In open rebellion against the Council.¡±


    ¡°I was in the south, avenging YOUR mother and brother.¡± Dragh closed his eyes and leaned back before looking at his son again. ¡°You know why I will not wear the crown.¡±


    Harin put his head in his hands, rubbing at his temples. ¡° I had no choice. You know that General.¡±


    ¡°General? What happened to father?¡±


    Harin gave a dark chuckle and looked back up. ¡° What happened? I took the crown from your father. I took responsibility for the nation and all her people. That is what happened to father. Now get your Legion out of the south. March them home. I have work for the Dragon Legion and I want the Third Legion back in the north training the Tribes.¡±


    Dragh stood. ¡°Work for us? No. We have work. I am the commander of the Army of Landor. I will say where they go.¡±


    ¡°Not everything can be solved with a blade father,¡± Harin shook his head.


    Dragh felt at his shirt, the lump under it assuring him. ¡°You are more like your grandfather than you know son,¡± he muttered.


    Harin rummaged around his desk, through the scrolls on top of it. Tossing one to Dragh.


    Dragh caught the scroll, surprised by the throw. ¡®What is this?¡±


    Harin¡¯s face went blank. ¡°Your new posting.¡±


    Dragh felt his hand tighten on the scroll, crumpling it.


    ¡°We will be in the south, I came to Landor to re-supply.¡±


    Harin stood. ¡°You will report to your post as your King orders you.¡±


    Dragh could feel anger rising in his face. He kept it blank, like his son. He walked to the door, knowing that if he stayed, he would fight with his son.


    ¡°It is the Dragon Legion¡¯s time to serve at Skellen Pass.¡±


    Dragh stopped, part way to the door, his body tense.


    Silence hung. Tense like the throne room.


    Dragh willed himself to take another step. To go. To flee.


    Skellen Pass. The Council¡¯s stronghold.


    ¡°I did not sign the Compact. I will not take my Legion to the Pass. The Dragon Legion is mine to command. I am the sword of this nation son. Swords break when they bend too far. Do not ask me to do this thing.¡± Dragh said, his eyes closed, praying to the gods his son would see reason.


    ¡°I am not asking. I am commanding it be done.¡±


    Dragh let his shoulders settle backm lifting his head up. ¡°I will not abandon my quest to find your brother, your mothers killers. I swore to the gods, that I would serve justice to them. I raised the Dragon Banner.¡±


    The Dragon Banner meant death to all who opposed the Dragon Legion. All of the nations knew that when Dragh¡¯s Legion raised it¡¯s black banner, The Blood Dragon on her banner meant death.


    Dragh flexed his hand, the Blood Dragon peaking out from under his sleeve on the back of his hand. White scars criss crossed the tattoo. It¡¯s red fadded, but still vivid and embedded in his skin.


    ¡°General.¡± Harin said, scorn in his voice.


    ¡°We leave tomorrow. We will return when I have my justice.¡±


    ¡°If you keep at this, I will loose the faith of the Merhcant Guilds. They want your head on a pike on the ramparts.¡±


    Dragh stormed fromt he room, throwing the door open and slamming it behind him.


    The two Praetorian on either side of the King¡¯s study jumped at the sudden disruption, half pulling their swords form their sheathes.


    ¡°MOVE!¡± Dragh barked at them, not waiting to see if they heeded him.

 Chapter 3

    ¡°Watch out below!¡± A shout came from above Hemmelle.


    Hemmelle pressed himself into the mountain face. The cold stone of the Car Lauch Mountains was cold and unforgiving, even in the summer. He could feel the cold in his bones as he pressed himself to the stone and prayed to Palegh, the god of war.


    His face was pressed up against his arm, the ink of the dragon showing. It wrapped around his arm and it¡¯s face snarled on the back of his hand.


    The tattoo filled him with pride. He was of the Dragon Legion. It was in his blood.


    The wait felt like an eternity. He wondered what the pit he was doing on this mountain. Why did he agree to this?


    The tell tale swoosh of stones flying downward passed Hemelle. He let out a breath and looked up, cracking his eyes part way open to look up the rock face.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The two other men, Pathos and Ethers, who had been sent with him were climbing up the rock face, not quite a straight pitch, but steep enough that if you were not climbing up with all fours, you¡¯d not likely make it.


    ¡°You alive?¡± Ethers asked downward.


    Hemmelle bit back a retort to the young solider and instead shifted his gaze to Pathos.


    The young man had grown up in the mountains, and knew this pass like Hemmelle knew his own sword.


    ¡°How much longer?¡± Hemmelle asked the youth, a few body lengths ahead of him.


    Pathos looked up at Ethers and then back down to Hemmelle. ¡°He should be nearing the top. We should have waited the evening.¡±


    ¡°The General commands us to make haste. So we will. Move!¡± Hemmelle barked.


    In the fading light of the day, the two young men moved upward. Hemmelle struggled to keep up.


    His mission was to make it to the Argu. As fast as possible, as quietly as possible. They were the shield of the tribes. Men and women that had no familes left. The ones that dedicated themselves to protecting thier people, all of the northren tribes.


    Dragh had told him, as fast as possible.


    Hemmelle followed the youths, trusting that the young tribesman Ethers knew the way. He glanced back, pausing in his ragged breaths. The sun setting to the west over the mountains, a sliver still blazing red over the top of the Car Lauch.


    ¡°The blood red sky at night.¡± Hemmelle whispered to himself.


    He shook his head. Memories of Ralarians still haunted his waking moments. Fighting and killing on the ocean. The Dragon Legion has bloodied itself on land and sea.

 Chapter 4

    ¡°We couldn¡¯t find him. Not a word from the north,¡± Bennje said, pulling the long section of leather out of the pool of tannin.


    The acrid pool of chemical was a mix of tree bark and plants, softening the leather after Benn and his tanners stripped any remaining flesh from the hides they were delivered by the butchers in Landor.


    The Tannery was outside of the city, just outside the stone walls that protected the city.


    Bennje shook the hide, stretched over the frame he and his men had put it on before it was submerged.


    The big man was Dragh¡¯s size. His beard hanging down to his chest, his arms like casks from the hard labor he did.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never understand why you work here,¡± Dragh said to the man, covering his nose and following him through the almost empty factory.


    It was night, torches lit the large vats of tannin, some of them bubbling in the shadows.


    Bennje laughed aloud. He put his hands up and waved to the three other men still working. His only staff. ¡°You¡¯re the only fool who¡¯d visit this stinking place,¡±


    Bennje wiped his face with his dirty sleeve. ¡°You get used to the smell. Eventually. Can you even smell death anymore, General?¡±


    Dragh ignored the comment.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the north. I¡¯ve taken care of it,¡± Dragh looked back across the large room at the three men working the vats before following Bennje through a small door into his office.


    ¡°Ahh, so you sent Hemmelle and your young tribesmen,¡± Bennje sat hard on a wooden chair behind a desk covered in scrolls.


    ¡°You know far too much my friend,¡± Dragh sat across from him in the only other chair in the office space.


    ¡°You pay me to know. Some things you pay me to forget. Why are you here Dragh?¡± Bennje asked.


    Dragh leaned back and sighed.


    ¡°Who killed them? Tell me what you¡¯ve found. I¡¯ve been chasing shadows in the south Bennje. What good is a spymaster if he cannot find me who killed my family!¡±


    Bennje raised an eyebrow at the outburst.


    Dragh breathed heavy, his anger getting the best of him.


    Bennje pulled a pipe out from his desk drawer, lighting it off the candle that was burning in the lone lamp in the dark room.


    Dragh¡¯s nose wrinkled at the sick smell of hides and chemicals, a whiff of it making it through the walls of the office.


    Bennje puffed on his pipe, eyeing Dragh. After a few moments, Bennje grunted. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°I can tell you, there is no word of your killers moving from south to north. The channels say nothing.¡±


    Dragh pointed at Bennje. ¡°Do not tell me that. Do not tell me I am wrong. I know they killed them Bennje. I KNOW IT.¡±


    Bennje nodded. ¡°And yet, the church. They speak of something, of a force in the shadows. The ones¡¯ you¡¯ve been chasing. The ones I have you chasing. They call them - ¡° Bennje paused. ¡°They call them Alamata.¡±


    It was Dragh¡¯s turn to quirk an eyebrow at his spymaster. ¡°Alamata. What?¡±


    ¡°The Church speaks of them, yes, them, in the same breath as they speak of death, of Kiever himself,¡±


    Dragh sucked in a breath. ¡°You¡¯re sure they are involved?¡±


    ¡°I am sure that they know something Dragh. That they are the first lead my men and women have been able to find in months. It is only whispers. Nothing more. The Church, you know is the Council. But we hear that Kents is sending a shipment on a journey south. Gold, lots of it,¡±


    ¡°Payment,¡±


    ¡°I only speak to what is said, and what is no said. You do the guessing,¡±


    ¡°I raised the Blood Dragon. I will not stop until they are dead,¡± Dragh growled.


    Bennje watched Dragh, saying nothing.


    The Blood Dragon was the banner of The Dragon Legion. It¡¯s red dragon on a black banner was only raised when the Legion itself was committed to battle. Dragh had raised it the day that he¡¯d heard of his son and wife¡¯s death. He had marched his Legion south, in full conflict with the edict of the Council.


    ¡°Damn the Compact,¡± Dragh muttered.


    ¡°What?¡± Beenje asked.


    Dragh rose form his seat, nodding. ¡°Keep looking,¡± he said, turning and opening the door.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome!¡±


    Dragh didn¡¯t turn as Bennje shouted the last line.


    He didn¡¯t need to thank Bennje. He paid him a king¡¯s ransom to run his stable of spies. Moreso, he¡¯d saved Bennje from death many times over. The hangman¡¯s noose was always over a spies shoulder. If they were caught, they¡¯d be killed by their own, or the other side before they even had time to swing.


    Bennje had started in the Second, many moons ago, missing the final march of General Nestor. He¡¯d survived, but Dragh had found him after, hidden away in his tannery.


    Dragh left the tannery and entered the city through it¡¯s north gates. The gates were manned by soldiers of the Third Legion, General Quintus¡¯ boys.


    They passed him through without a second look.


    That was one of the perks that Dragh had at the commander of Landor¡¯s armies. He didn¡¯t enjoy anonymity, but he ruled the armies unchallenged. They all knew his story, what treachery he¡¯d survived in the north at the hand of his own uncle.


    The streets of Landor, paved with the stones of the Car Lauch Mountains were mostly empty at night. It¡¯s people either in bed or in a tavern.


    Dragh enjoyed the quiet as he walked back to the barracks close to the castle. He looked up, the moon high in the sky, stars twinkled in and out of the inky black sky.


    The scuff of a boot behind him brought him back to the present.


    Dragh looked from side to side, careful not to look backward. At this time of night, someone behind him could be a drunk stumbling from an alleyway.


    Or, it could be something more menacing.


    Dragh listening, keeping his pace normal. His heart rate was rising, his heart jumping now.


    He could hear the faint tell tale of soft steps behind him.


    No loud, but there. Not of a drunken man, but of someone who didn¡¯t want to be heard.


    The battle lust came to him, excitement washed over him as his right hand gripped the blade of Drago, his dagger. The leather fit his hand exactly, just rough enough for gripping, but smooth form use.


    Dragh saw an alleyway cutting through the rows and rows of villas and houses stacked on top of one another. He was in a rough part of Landor, closest to the gates, working inward. He darted down the alleyway, turning and crouching in a battle stance, hugging the corner of the stone building.


    ¡°If you hadn''t sent Hemmelle north, you wouldn''t be crouching there, waiting for your own death.


    Dragh felt the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.


    ¡°Tasia. How long have you been following me?¡± Dragh grunted.


    Dragh stood, sheathing Drago and took a step around the corner to the street he¡¯d just left.


    A light hand touched his shoulder as his daughter twirled around his front, performing a spin and bowing at the end.


    ¡°When were you going to stop in dad?¡± Anastasia smiled wildly.


    Dragh grinned at his daughter and pulled her into him. He smelled his hazel hair, closing his eyes and breathing her in. She smelled like her mother.


    Like home.


    He pulled back and looked in her eyes. ¡°Dare I ask how you knew about Hemmelle?¡±


    Anastasia smiled, her teeth white in the darkness of night. ¡°First, you never go anywhere without uncle Hemm. Second, a guardsmen saw three men out in the forests at the toe of the Car Lauch in the west. They refused to stop when ordered. Just the night that you returned to the city.


    Dragh cursed. ¡°I told him to remain hidden, to move at night.¡±


    He knew it was no use trying to hide the truth from his daughter. His son has his Kingdom, Landor. His daughter had her own kingdom, information.


    ¡°He did.¡± Anastasia said.


    Dragh laughed then. ¡°There is no hiding these things from you is there Tasia?¡±


    Anastasia corked her eyebrow. ¡°Where is he going father?¡±


    Dragh felt his smile fade. ¡°Let us get a drink before we return to the castle.¡±


    Anastasia stiffened. ¡°You¡¯re going back.¡±


    Dragh sighed, trying to take her hand.


    Anastasia pulled her hand back.


    In the low light of the night, Dragh could see the hurt on his daughters face. He took a step forward.


    Anastasia took a step back.


    Dragh took is a breath. His heart broke at the sight of his daughters pain. The flash of betrayal on her face.


    ¡°You¡¯re going back, and nothing I said is going to stop you is it?¡± Anastasia looked away.


    ¡°I have to.¡± He said.


    A tear rolled down Anastasia¡¯s face. ¡°You¡¯re the General. You don''t have to do anything.¡±

 Chapter 5

    ¡°He WHAT?¡± Harin shouted, slamming his fist down onto his desk.


    The cup he¡¯d been drinking out of rattled, scrolls rolled from their places, ink spilled from his inkwell.


    Anastasia laughed.


    Harin felt his face grow red. ¡°He couldn¡¯t have left. He has been called to The Pass.¡±


    ¡°He raised the Dragon Banner, Harin. He will never rest until he finds who killed mom, who killed Fab.¡± Anastasia said, suddenly somber.


    Harin let out a breath, blowing through his teeth. He knew his father was right, but he owned fealty to The Council. He¡¯d signed the Compact.


    ¡°I want them caught too, but do you think that after a year, he could admit he might not ever find their killers? That he should come back to Landor, to us?¡±


    ¡°He left because he had to do what he felt right. He loved her Harin. He loved mom, and Fabien. I do not that wound will ever heal for our father. Their death cut into him in ways I cannot understand.¡±


    Harin picked up his drink and sipped on it. Fire wine from the south. A sweet and hot drink that put fire in his belly when he needed it.


    ¡°The Council will not accept this Ani. They want men, and they want them now. Father has two legions in the south. And they asked for The Dragon.¡±


    Anastasia picked a piece of lint from her sleeve and looked Harin in the eyes. ¡°You know that every legion they send back is full of spies, don''t you? Men they have paid off, men they have bribed.¡±


    Harin sighed. ¡°You know, you are not the only one who has eyes and ears in this city. I know as well as you that the Council, the Church, they are one. And their business is information. Our families spies tell me that they pay better and they are willing to kill for what they want.¡±


    ¡°Mine tell me the same brother dearest. So what will you do?¡±


    Harin nodded, looking to the fire. ¡°What I must to keep Landor alive. To keep the wolves at bay. I will go to Skellen Pass with my Praetorians. They are the only match in experience and power to The Dragon Legion.¡±


    ¡°Sire!¡±


    Harin looked up at his study door.


    ¡°Brago, what is it?¡± Harin asked.


    Brago looked between Anastasia and Harin. ¡°The Council is here, they - they ask a presence with the court.¡±


    ¡°Ask?¡± Harin raised an eyebrow.


    He knew the men and women of the Council. They did not ask for anything, not when they had him under their thumb.


    ¡°The Sunborns rule this land. They do not come when beckoned,¡± Anastasia said, looking the Pretorian up and down.


    Brago returned the look from the princess.


    Harin watched Brago, narrowing his eyes at the Praetorian.


    The Praetorian caught Harin¡¯s stare and looked away, his face red.


    The Compact had stripped away the pretense. All owed fealty to them for the continued peace. Obilis, Cyrene and Newvalas to the south, countless other countries had signed onto the Compact.


    They¡¯d created a peace that would have cost and ocean of Landorian blood. His Grandfather had gotten them into the war. His father acting as the sword and shield of Landor for as long as he had memory.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Demanded,¡± Brago looked to the ground.


    Harin gripped the edge of his desk until he could feel his fingers ache.


    Anastasia stood, her posture regal. ¡°We play their game until we can forge our way out of it.¡±


    Harin met her gaze. ¡°Aye sister. I will not play the servant boy to them any longer.¡±


    ¡ª--


    ¡°We will offer you the gold you need for supplies, to support Landor and her King.¡± Father Kent said, bowing slightly to Harin.


    They were arrayed in the Throne Room, a sparse few attending the Councilman and Father Kent. All here to ask Landor to support a war against the East.


    Harin raised his chin. ¡°Why would I need such charity? I rule this land, churchman.¡±


    Father Kent stuttered. ¡°I - I just mean to say that we support you in this cause. I am sure that The Dragon Legion and its General have sapped your coffers. We only offer to support the cause.¡±


    Harin scratched his chin.


    He needed their support, and they both knew it.


    The Church was not yet powerful enough to take him on, to offend the King that allowed them in his nation. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder at how simple it was. How neat. The Church was here, just at the time that Harin needed the money for a campaign that the Council had called for. Just in time to ensure that he and his people would answer the call to arms.


    Would they support him when they found out his father had burned a church to the ground?


    ¡°Tell me, churchman, what would want for such - a gift?¡± Harin asked.


    Father Kent smiled.


    The hair on Harin¡¯s neck stood up. He felt a shiver run down his spine.


    ¡°We only ask for your support King Harin,¡± Father Kent bowed.


    Harin ground his teeth, looking into the small group of men that surrounded him.


    ¡°The King will think on your offer, thank you Father Kent,¡± Anastasia stepped forward, giving a small bow to the churchman.


    Harin thanked her with a look.


    ¡°The Council has one more matter to discuss with you my lord.¡± Councilman Jard spoke up.


    ¡°You ask me to fight in the war against the East. Not just send one of my Legions to Skellen Pass. I need to think on what you¡¯ve asked Councilman.¡± Harin dismissed the Councilman with a wave of his hand.


    Father Kent and the men attending both he and the Councilman began to leave.


    Harin rubbed at his temples, waiting for the biting remarks from his sister when she found out that they did not have the money to support this campaign. That he¡¯d been feeding two legions in the south for so long that they were bleeding him dry.


    Harin knew he needed to keep taxes where they were, lest he risk a revolt of the populace.


    Recovery from the war had been slow. Men and women of Landor were slowly working their way out of the hole they¡¯d be forced into to survive. Harin could see it in their eyes when he was out in the capitol and outer lands.


    They blamed him for the war. His family. The King.


    Harin scoffed aloud. He was a mere boy of eleven when it had started. But the people of Landor cared not.


    Councilman Jard cleared his throat.


    Harin looked up. Brago stepped forward form his side into Harin¡¯s line of sight.


    ¡°What?¡± Harin spit out.


    The Councilman stood alone before Harin¡¯s dais.


    Anastasia stepped forward to Brago¡¯s side. ¡°What do you want? You¡¯ve been dismissed.¡±


    Harin stood, his face the mast that his grandfather had taught him. ¡° I have much to do Councilman, be quick or be gone.¡±


    Harin looked down at the man, purposefully not stepping down off the thrones¡¯ dais.


    Councilman Jard wiped his hands on his long cloak, brushing his nails clean. ¡®I still have questions about The Dragon and what General Sunborn is doing in the South.¡±


    ¡°The Third and Dragon are in the South ensuring a lasting peace between nations,¡± Anastasia said, her voice even.


    Harin watched the Councilman. His eyes did not move from his own. ¡° I was speaking to the King.¡±


    Anastasia stepped down off the dais.


    Brago stepped with her, then ahead of her.


    The Councilman¡¯s eyes never left Harin¡¯s. His eyebrow raised.


    ¡°You will address the Princess Sunborn with the respect she deserves.¡± Brago barked.


    ¡°Brago, enough.¡± Harin scolded his Praetorian.


    Brago stiffened, putting one hand back to stop Anastasia from coming any closer to the Councilman.


    ¡°The Dragon Legion and the Third are in the south on my orders. There was a fermentation of rebellion and we have committed to keeping the Council¡¯s peace. Keeping the peace that your Compact promises. Is there an issue, Councilman?¡±


    The Councilman spread his hands out in front of himself, fingers splayed. ¡°We thank Landor for her service. And of course for offering your Praetorians and Eagles.¡±


    The Councilman paused looking at Brago and Anastasia with calculating eyes. ¡°But, we want The Dragon, not the Fourth and Praetorians. We want the best.¡±


    Brago pulled at his sword, taking a half step forward. ¡°How dare -.¡±


    ¡°PRAETORIAN! YOU ARE DISMISSED!¡± Harin shouted.


    Brago stiffened, turned on his heel and saluted Harin before departing at parade step out of the Throne Room.


    There was a silence hanging in the room now. Harin could feel the tension radiating from Anastasia.


    Harin walked forward putting his hand on his sisters shoulder. She was breathing heavily, her eyes darting between the Councilman and Harin.


    ¡°Give me a moment with Jard, Ana,¡±


    Anastasia nodded to her brother, her eyes protesting before she turned and follow Brago out of the throne room.


    Jard smiled at Harin, toothy and large. ¡°Tell me, why do you let your father run this country. He stepped away, turned the crown down.¡±


    Harin scoffed. ¡°We are down with pretenses now are we Jard?¡±


    Jard shrugged.


    ¡°You will get the Fourth and the Praetorian Legions. I will accompany them myself to Skellen Pass. You will keep the Fourth there in the rotation that was meant for the Dragon. That is what I will promise you. The Praetorian Legion will leave at a time of my choosing. A show of force by Landor that we support you and the Council,¡±


    Jard picked at his teeth with a small knife he¡¯d produced from his coat. ¡°The Dragon and the Third need to stop what they are doing in the South. This course of vengeance needs to end Harin,¡±


    ¡°The Compact demands that we keep your peace. I am doing so,¡±


    Jard laughed, the harsh thing echoing in the empty room. ¡°You call what your father is doing, keeping the peace?¡±


    Harin walked across the room to a small wooden table with refreshments on it. He poured a glass of water and drank deeply from it.


    ¡°My Legions are my own to command where I see fit. Do not come to me with the crimes of the Council and ask the Sunborns for their allegiance. We do not forget so easily who destroyed our family to begin with,¡± Harin turned.


    Jard had followed, eyeing the refreshments.


    Harin waved his hand. ¡°You may now go. Do not mistake my patience for kindness.¡±


    Jard glared at Harin, then spun on his heel, walking away from the King.


    Harin walked to his study off of the throne room, slumping into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. He would show the Council what might Landor could bring to Skellen Pass. Damn his father for putting him in this position. He knew that only a King would replace Dragh and the Dragon Legion.


    He wondered if he was walking into a trap.

 Chapter 6

    ¡°General!¡±


    The sound alerted Dragh to the danger moments before it happened.


    A blade flashed in his face, a shadow in the alleyway he¡¯d been walking through to the Loggers Inn.


    The Clover Inn had been a fine place to stop on all of his journeys south, just north of the border between Coven and Landor, the Jannis River separating the two countries. The Inn was surrounded by fields of clover, hemmed in by forests to the north and south. The Car Lauch Mountains loomed in the west. Dragh, Pello and Cello¡¯s horses had been tired after long days of travel from the Capitol.


    Dragh threw up his sword in a wild blocking stroke upward, the movement embedded in him for many years.


    A shooting pain ran down his arm as his blade connected with his assailants. He threw headbutted the man coming from the shadows, throwing himself forward.


    ¡°Oof!¡±


    Dragh pinned his sword and the man¡¯s to the wall at waist height as he pushed the man into the brick wall of the alleyway.


    The man Dragh tackled let out  a grunt before slamming his free fist into Dragh¡¯s back.


    Dragh bit into his tongue at the jolt, the tangy tase of blood quickly coating his mouth as he held onto the would be killers tunic. Tears welled in his eyes.


    Dragh drove his knee up into the man¡¯s groin, felling the pop of a ruined life as he did it again and again.


    The man screamed in pain, dropping his sword to the ground.


    ¡°General, duck!¡±


    Dragh let go of the man, pushing away and dropping to the ground.


    The crunch of metal on bone above gave Dragh pause. Death was never far for a man of the blade. Steel was the unforgiving currency of his trade.


    ¡°Dragh, are you okay?¡± Cello asked.


    Dragh looked up, grabbing his Legate¡¯s hand and hauling himself up to his feet. ¡°Zufiers balls. Where did he come from?¡± Dragh rubbed his neck.


    ¡°Clear the area Pello!¡± Cello called out to the man behind them in the alleyway.


    Cello put his boot on the body of the dead man, pulling his sword while keeping one foot on the head. His sword came loose with a sucking sound.


    The two brothers had been with Dragh since the Second. Always there, always protecting him.


    ¡°Must be the fifth time,¡± Dragh muttered, looking down at the dead man. Cello had almost split the man¡¯s head. His sword had cut through most of the skull just below the nose, cutting the man¡¯s teeth off and striking all the way back to his ears.


    Dragh swallowed, his mouth dry from the fight.


    ¡°Fifth. This year mayhap,¡± Cello scoffed.


    ¡°Cello, search the body, I must know who sent him. And watch your back, there will be more,¡± Dragh pointed to the body on the ground.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Cello asked as Dragh walked down the alley.


    ¡°Pello and I are going to ask the Innkeeper some questions,¡± Dragh said without turning back.


    Dragh walked through the front doors, the hinges well greased and noiseless as he threw them open. The two oaken doors, bolted through with iron keepers throughout banged into the walls on either side as Dragh stood with Pello at his side.


    He¡¯d asked Cello to check the body because what came next required Pello. Both brothers were built like athletes, broad shoulders and narrow waists. Their faces flat and tanned like his from battle. Cello let his beard go, where Pello¡¯s vanity did not allow him to be unkempt. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Pello, unlike his brother had the capacity for cruelty. He was hardened to killing in a way his brother was not. Cello had principals, Pello was a killer like him.


    Ask Pello to kill, and he would. Ask him to sneak into an alley in Landor and slice throats, he would ask no questions.


    ¡°Who are ye?¡± Refn, the small hawkish owner of the Clover Inn asked from behind the bar.


    Dragh looked around at the patrons of the Inn. It¡¯s makeup like any other in the realm. Light spilled from the windows on all sides. The bar was at the far end of the room, tables and chairs set up between the door and the bar. A rough wooden stairway to the rooms above on the right hand side. Hard men and women of the road were seated, some drinking ale from mugs, some eating whatever Refn had prepared during the day. The place was full.


    The patrons grumbled at being interrupted.


    ¡°Close the pit forsaken doors!¡±


    Pello pulled out a dagger, letting the slithering of steel last moments longer than necessary. Dragh would normally have put his hand out, stopping his Legate from the outright threat. But he could still feel his heart pounding from the attempt on his life.


    Some of the men around the bar stood in response to the challenge.


    One man from among the crowd ran forward, the glint of a blade in his hand. He ran at Dragh, leaping over the table between he and Dragh. Dragh stood still, breathing through his nose.


    Pello darted forward, quick as a cat. The man leapt, Pello batted at his legs, sending the leaping man spinning sideways and to the ground.


    Pello stomped on the man¡¯s hand with the dagger. A scream, guttural and piercing erupted form his lips. His hand and wrist that held the dagger were now at an odd angle


    Pello lunged down, slamming his dagger through the mans other hand and into the floorboards. He screamed again, surprisingly louder than when Pello had stomped on his other hand.


    Men and women stood in numbers, shouting at the violence. Shouting to Refn and Dragh to stop it.


    Dragh pulled his sleeve down from his arm, holding it high in the air. ¡°You all know who I am.¡±


    The room quieted, the men who¡¯d stood in challenge sat back down, some of them turning white. Dragh looked up at his arm, the red ink of the tattoo in sharp contrast to the scars of a lifetime of war. The dragon tattoo snaked around his arm, it¡¯s head snarling on his hand.


    The man with a dagger through his hand screamed on the floor, puling at the dagger that Pello stood on.


    Pello pulled down his sleeve, his own tattoo black instead of red. None moved.


    The Blood Dragon on Dragh¡¯s arm had stayed them.


    ¡°General, we want no trouble here!¡± Refn called out.


    Heads nodded.


    The shuffling steps of a man with a heavy burden came from behind Dragh and Pello.


    ¡°Ugg¡± Cello grunted, throwing the dead body onto the floor in front of the trio beside the writhing man with the dagger through his hand.


    ¡°For the love of Heiser!¡± Refn said, putting his hands up in the air behind the bar.


    None moved from their seats, all eyes on this bloody trio who¡¯d trapsed through the doors, broken one man and thrown a dead body onto the floor beside him.


    ¡°I will have answers tonight. Oh, I will have answers lads.¡± Dragh said, looking around him, meetings men¡¯s eyes.


    All of them looked away, some down, some to their mates seated around them.


    ¡°Who knows these men? You tell me now, or I will burn this place to the ground with your bodies in it.¡± Dragh said.


    ¡ª--


    Dragh sat on a chair in the middle of the Inn¡¯s main floor, flexing his hands. The blood had dried on them, crusting around his fingernails in an iron brown.


    ¡°It¡¯s more than we knee before isn¡¯t it?¡± Cello said from behind him.


    Dragh grunted.


    ¡°We suspected, but now we know.¡± Pello said.


    ¡°Brother, we know nothing of the sort. He simply said that they met with a man from Landor that wore the robes. It does not mean we know,¡± Cello said in a tired voice.


    ¡°What do you think? You think that the church has nothing to do with this? That they are not aligned with the Council? He told us the man had the air of a priest. The robes of the church itself,¡± Pello shouted.


    The shout echoed off the walls in the empty Inn.


    Dragh listened to the two brothers argue, thinking on what the dead man had said. Cello was angry that they¡¯d tortured him. Pello angry at the judgement that his brother levied at him for being what he was.


    He knew that Kent was moving south with gold. According to his man, a lot of gold. Payment for something. That he knew. They church would wrap it up in a lie, telling them that the gold was for the building of a new church in the south. A new church to quell the memories of death form the southern wars. He¡¯d seen the church, he knew it was a good lie.


    A war he¡¯d killed in. A war that Dragh had started.


    Cello stood from his own seat and walked forward to the dead body tied to the chair in the center of the room. His boot steps squelched from the sticky blood on the floor. He pulled the man¡¯s head up by his hair. ¡°Look at this. Is this what we are now?¡±


    A chairs legs scraped. Dragh felt the wind of Pello before he walked past.


    ¡°It¡¯s what I am brother,¡± Pello said.


    Pello reached forward and pulled the dagger from the dead man¡¯s leg, a dribble of blood leaking from it onto his leg, welling at the rope binding the man to the chair.


    ¡°General. Tell him,¡±


    Dragh looked up at the brothers. Both of them with flush faces. Both for different reasons. ¡°They tried to kill us,¡±


    Pello and Cello both looked at the bodies on the ground and the third in the chair.


    ¡°Refn knew what he getting into when he took gold from them. He knew that he had signed his death warrant when he took money for information about our movements,¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯d they attack you Dragh?¡± Pello asked.


    Dragh looked to the other brother. ¡°They wish to end my line Pello, first they demanded the Dragon Legion serv e at Skellen. Then, they would have filled my Legion with dissent and spies.¡±


    ¡°And for that they tried to kill you?¡± Cello scoffed.


    Dragh nodded. ¡°There is some larger game at play here. One that my father had began to unravel before his death. The Council is pulling the strings of the puppets. We are being moved like pawns on a board with this new Compact.¡±


    ¡°What will the King do?¡± Pello asked.


    ¡°He will pretend this did not happen, as he must. There will be enough men between the church and the Council that we will never connect them. The men responsible for hiring this lot,¡± Dragh pointed to the dead men. ¡°They are already feeding the earth,¡±


    Pello nodded.


    Dragh and Pello understood what must be done to protect a nation, what must be done to protect a secret.


    ¡°And what of us? We pretend too?¡±


    ¡°And what of the church, the men who have paid for your blood?¡± Pello asked.


    Dragh picked up a mug and smashed it on the ground. ¡°We will kill these bastards. These men who came for us are of the same ilk that killed my son and wife. I will hunt them down and skin them alive.¡±


    Cello hung his head, looking at the ground.


    Pello smiled, his white teeth showing.


    ¡°Send a message to my son. He must know that they come for us. That they come for him. The Council is behind this,¡±


    Cello nodded to Dragh and began searching behind the bar for ink and paper to scribe the message to Harin.


    Dragh stood and cracked his back, leaning backward with both hands on his hips. ¡°Let us be done with this place,¡± He nodded to Pello. ¡°Be quick Cello, we have a priest to visit,¡±


    Pello moved to the walls and pulled down one of the many oil filled lanterns from the walls that illuminated the Inn and began emptying the contents over the wooden tables and chairs.


    ¡°For the love of Zufier,¡± Cello muttered.


    ¡°To the pit with this place,¡± Pello said, tossing the lit lantern into the puddle of oil.


    Flames licked at the dry wood, catching quickly as Dragh walked from the Inn and into the dark night.


    Cello and Pello followed behind him as smoke issued out of the doorway.

 Chapter 7

    Harin pushed back his hood, running his hand through his freshly cut hair.


    He liked to cut his hair before he left the city, allowing for it¡¯s growth to mark time for him.


    ¡°Sire, General Galis would not approve of you being out in the public with just myself at your side,¡± Brago asked.


    Harin muttered, looking around the small Inn he¡¯d stopped at. The smell of food had caught his attention, the wafting steam of stew from the windows of the place had made his mouth water. He could taste the savoury on the air.


    ¡°What was that sire?¡± Brago whispered.


    ¡°Galis is already on thin ice. I don¡¯t need a general telling me where to go and what I can do Brago. Why would a king want that?¡±


    ¡°Sire, I will have to tell him the truth of it,¡± Brago said.


    ¡°Stop calling me that,¡± Harin said. Lowering his voice.


    ¡°Sire,¡± Brago pleaded.


    Harin felt his face flush. ¡°Brago, enough!¡± He hissed. ¡°I do not need to be recognized out here,¡±


    Brago went rigid.


    Harin let out a breath, his anger at the Council, the Church spilling into his mind on this fine day. He looked up at the sun and closed his eyes, letting the rays bathe his face. He knew that he was putting his Legate in a bad position with the General of the Praetorian Legion. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Brago,¡±


    Brago kept his face impassive but his lips were pursed.


    ¡°My father, the Council,¡± Harin said by way of explanation.


    Two shouting children could be heard from a window above the main floor. Harin looked up, the shout of a woman following it, silencing the children''s squabble.


    ¡°My mother was harsh too,¡± Brago mused.


    ¡°I wish there were another answer,¡±


    ¡°I understand sire, if I could speak freely?¡±


    Harin nodded to his Praetorian.


    ¡°Sire, we must appease the Council. The Compact ties us to them in more ways than one. They control the south, the movement of food and goods,¡±


    Harin narrowed his eyes. ¡°Not just a simple soldier, are you Brago?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Brago laughed. ¡°I am a simple man, but I have ears,¡±


    Harin watched the people flow down the street around them. The Inn was on a corner in the center of Landor¡¯s business district. The rich dined here with the poor. The working men and women of Landor moved through their day, from their homes to their work, then back to their families.


    He envied them, the peace of it. No decisions to make, no pressure of war or famine. He could feel the crown atop his head even now, remembering what his grandfather, Kallen had said to him when he placed it atop his head. ¡°You will feel the weight of the crown as it if were the nation itself. Do not let it crush your humanity my boy.¡±


    ¡°If my father had simply moved his legions, we would not have to march ours to Skellen,¡± Harin complained.


    A waiter came to the table, interrupting them. She was young, her hair pulled back, the telltale bags under her eyes of a woman who¡¯d stayed up all night raising children.


    Harin smiled, her sweet voice a match to the earlier shouts.


    ¡°Two ales, please,¡± Brago ordered, passing the young lady two coins.


    The young lady came back a moment later, Harin and Brago enjoying the peace of waiting.


    Harin had always


    ¡°You must fight for Landor, and we must appease the Council. Can we not send the Eighth?¡± Brago asked.


    Harin chuckled. ¡°If it were only a Legion they looked for, yes. But they do not only look for a Legion Brago. They want a Sunborn. They want my father or me at the Skellen Pass,¡±


    ¡°Does that not leave Landor unprotected? What of the Capitol?¡± Brago asked.


    Harin had always spent the days before campaign in the Capitol. The short hair had allowed him to go unnoticed by most. His clothes simple, Brago¡¯s as well. If anyone were to give them a second look, they¡¯d appear two normal men about the city. He soaked it in, the place, the smells, the people. He needed to remember why he did it, what he fought for. His weapons were not knives and swords, but legions and words. He fought to protect this place, his nation from the real wolves.


    And they always came for blood. The crown too rich an opportunity.


    ¡°General¡¯s Hasper and Eris are in the west, on patrols. None will challenge the nation while I am away. Not with Dragh in the south, whatever the pit he¡¯d doing,¡± Harin said.


    Harin picked up his ale, taking a long drink and wiping foam from his face.


    ¡°Good ale, this,¡± Harin said.


    Brago grunted, his brows knitted.


    ¡°Ask, we are just two men enjoying a sunny day in Landor Brago,¡±


    ¡°Yes, S- ¡° Brago caught himself and stopped before he said sire again. ¡°If I may, you fight for the soul of this palace, it¡¯s people, if we do not heed the Council, we will end up in another war, perhaps of their making,¡±


    ¡°Thank you Brago,¡± Harin said, a smile pulling at his face.


    Brago took a breath. ¡°Your father, he fights for this places heart. Your mother, she was loved by the people of Landor. She was of the people, her father a merchant, her story well known to all in the realm. Whoever killed her, whoever your father hunts, I hope he kills them. What he does, he does with the vengeance of the nation. The heart of the nation. Our enemies must know that if they strike at us, at the Sunborn, there is no force on earth that will stop us from our revenge,¡±


    Harin sat back in his chair, seeing his Praetorian, truly seeing him for the first time.


    The heart of the nation. He¡¯d never considered it. He¡¯d thought his father vengeful and arrogant. But, perhaps his father did what he did out of love, some version at least.


    Brago began to turn red under Harin¡¯s scrutiny. He fidget with his mug of ale, not meeting Harin¡¯s eye.


    ¡°Thank you Brago,¡± Harin said putting his hand out across the small wooden table.


    Brago looked up in surprise. ¡°Thank you?¡±


    Harin chuckled. ¡°You taught me something today. Something that I¡¯d not know before,¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that sire?¡± Brago asked.


    Harin corked an eyebrow. ¡°That this place needs my father, as much as it needs me. That Landor may need it¡¯s revenge more than I do,¡±


    Brago gave a tight smile. ¡°The nation loves you sire, but your father, the people love him too,¡±


    ¡°Indeed Brago, they must,¡± Harin said, looking around at the people on the street.


    Harin picked up his ale and drank the rest of the mug.


    ¡ª--


    Brago and Harin made their way to the back entrance to the castle of Landor, a single wooden door striped with steel. One guard stood at attention as they approached, lazy, leaning back on the castle walls.


    The young man, his face still had sparse peach fuzz on it. He finally noticed the King and the head of the Praetorian guard walking towards him. The guard pushed himself up, grabbing at his spear leaning on the wall.


    ¡°Sire!¡± He shouted to Harin, snapping a quick salute and fumbling his spear.


    Harin kept his face calm, trying not to laugh at the young man. He remembered his crowing day, his grandfather and father had been on the dais looking down on him. All of Landor¡¯s nobles had stood in the throne room, packed wall to wall. A small walkway between them down the center. He¡¯d felt his nerves then, just like this young man.


    ¡°Open the door, solider,¡± Brago said to the young man.


    ¡°Yes sir, sorry sir,¡± The young man said, knocking on the door and giving the day¡¯s password to the man inside.


    Most of the castle¡¯s doors only opened from within. Which made the castle safe from intruders. But, Harin thought, only safe from those without, those within were the ones that you always had to worry about.


    The door opened quietly, the rolled iron barrel hinges were well oiled.


    Harin nodded his thanks to the guards on both sides of the door. If they¡¯d thought it odd that the king was entering the back of his own castle, they said nothing.

 Chapter 8

    Harin shoved his seat back from the table, throwing his fork onto the table with a loud clattering echo. He pushed up and out of his chair.


    ¡°Baby brother, sit back down,¡± Anastasia said, her voice amused.


    Harin scowled at his sister. ¡°I find the company foul, the meal isn''t worth putting up with you and your lies all night,¡±


    Anastasia laughed. ¡°Just because you do not want to hear it, does not make it a lie my dear brother. Do you think that the truth should bend itself to your will my liege?


    Harin looked up at the ceiling and muttered a prayer to the gods.


    ¡°What was that?¡± She asked.


    Harin opened his eyes and sat back down and mustered the most annoyed look he could for his sister. They spent many nights together in their lives. Most of it on the Street of Roses at their mothers home. The last few years, after the death of their grandfather at the castle. Lucille, their mother had always endeavored to keep them at the dinner table for as long as she could, but after her death, Harin found it painful some night.


    ¡°I asked Zufier to grant me the strength not to kill you with a spoon,¡± Harin quipped.


    Anastasia laughed again, throwing her head back and howling.


    Harin felt the corner of his mouth lift up. His sisters laugh was pure. When she laughed, you¡¯d earned it. She had never given in to the political training of their mother, to laugh even when things were not funny.


    She was more like their father than Harin was.


    ¡°It doesn''t change the fact that he did steal the money,¡± Anastasia speared one of the roasted tomatoes off her plate and plopped it in her mouth.


    ¡°How¡¯d he do it?¡± Harin asked.


    ¡°My people tell me that his half brother had set up the contract with the crown. Our people did not know that they were related. Some bastard his father had sired,¡±


    Harin sighed. ¡°So the man that I¡¯ve trusted my life with, the life of our family -¡± Harin stopped, realizing that it was just he and his sister now.


    Anastasia put her hand across the table, reach for Harin¡¯s arm.


    Harin pulled it back, raising his hand. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡±


    Anastasia shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not. Not anymore. Not since it happened,¡±


    Harin looked away, feeling the welling of tears. He willed them away. He¡¯d cried all that he could when he heard the news of their deaths many months before. He picked up the leg of the chicken his cook had prepared and chewed off a chunk of meat.


    The meat was tender and had hints of mint and savoury spice on it. He could taste none of it as he chewed mechanically. His mind was occupied with trying to fit his sorrow back in the box that he hid it in. He knew that if he let the emotions take him, he¡¯d order the south burned to the ground. Such was the hole left after his mother and brother were killed.


    A king does what is right for his people. Not himself. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Harin remembered the words of his grandfather. Snippets of advice when He¡¯d asked why things were done the way Kallen had done them. He wondered now what Kallen would think of his sons quest for revenge. The months of assaults in the south. Rampaging through cities and towns, beatings and killings.


    The south had never been so safe as when Dragh had emptied the criminal underbelly, looking for his families murderers.


    ¡°So, the man that heads my Praetorian Legion has been siphoning money off to himself and his bastard half brother for more years than I¡¯ve sat atop the throne of Landor?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to have him killed. This cannot stand. When the people of Landor find out. And they always find out. Our enemies, everyone. They will think you weak unless he is dead. He has emptied the coffers of Landor,¡± Anastasia said, sipping from her glass of wine.


    Harin sighed again. ¡°It cannot be so sister. I am not my father. I will not kill this man because he stole from me. I rule with the law, not with the blade,¡±


    ¡®Hah.¡± Anastasia smirked. ¡°You rule by the blade. Every law is backed by the blade my little brother. You still have much to learn, kill him and be done with it,¡±


    ¡°I am the king, I will not kill the general of the Praetorians. If I do, I condemn everyone who steals to death. I will bleed soldiers as if I turned the blade on myself,¡±


    Harin chewed off another piece of meat from the leg of the chicken. As he chewed, the flavor of the spices began to sink through his melancholy. It was a fine meal.


    ¡ª--


    Dragh sat in the cell of The Slab, moisture collecting in rivulets and dripping down the walls of the place.


    The stone was the same stone that made up his castle. This stone was rough cut in comparison to his castles. The edged of each stone jagged and sharp. The mortar sloppy and spilled over the edges of each block. Iron bars were askew as he waited. The seat he chose was cold, the cold seeping into his bones.


    Harin could feel the pressure of the mountain above him, it¡¯s stone aching to fall inward on itself.


    The scraping of a door came from the long hallway. Harin stood form his seat, straightening his jacket, pushing down at the creases.


    ¡°In, general,¡± A guard called.


    A squat man walked into the cell, rubbing at his wrists and looking backward.


    The bars of the doors did not close, the squat man giving the guard a quizzical look.


    ¡°They won¡¯t close it until I am done, Gallis,¡± Harin said.


    Gallis whirled to face him on the balls of his feet, much faster than Harin would have thought possible for a squat man.


    ¡°Harin,¡± Gallis spit out the words, looking like he had a foul taste in his mouth.


    Harin put his hands behind his back. ¡°You¡¯ll be staying here for the rest of your life, Gallis,¡± Harin turned, looking around the cell again.


    He could hear Gallis breathing heavily behind him.


    Without turning, Harin put his hand on his blade. ¡°You know, they all wanted be to use this. Dawnbringer,¡±


    Harin patted the blade at his side, looking up at the one window that that gave light to the cell high in the wall.


    ¡°Of course you wont,¡± Gallis said behind him.


    Harin turned to face the former general. ¡°Tell me, what is that you all call me behind my back? Come now, I know that you whisper it too,¡±


    Gallis smirked.


    ¡°King of Ink,¡± Gallis used the words as a slur.


    Harin laughed. ¡°It¡¯s funny, all of this time, all of the time you¡¯ve been stealing from me, from the crown. Did you know it would come to an end? Did you think it would end with your neck in a noose or on the butchers block?¡±


    Gallis took a step forward, his face red. ¡°I took what I deserved after I gave my life to defend your family!¡±


    Harin wiped the spittle from his face on his sleeve. ¡°And you think you deserved the treasury?¡±


    Gallis pushed Harin.


    Harin steadied himself, catching himself before falling. He held the hilt of Dawnbringer still. He looked down at the sword and then to Gallis. Tempering his emotions. He wanted to pull the sword out and cut Gallis¡¯ head from his body.


    ¡°Where is the money Gallis? Tell me where the money is and I will do my best to spare you and your kin,¡±


    ¡°Pah,¡± Gallis spit at Harin¡¯s feet. ¡°I need no sympathy from you. They money is gone. Spent. I spent it every chance that I had, and I took pleasure in listening to your people speak to you of the hardship of your treasury. The hardship of the Sunborns. I served you and your grandfather your whole lives, and what did I get? Nothing. A measly salary that hardly kept a room over my families heads. I toiled, from one end of this pit forsaken kingdom to the other to serve you and yours. I decided to take some for myself,¡±


    Harin shook his head. ¡°You old fool. Being of service is not about the reward, it is for the people. We serve them,¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll not take lessons from a king who¡¯s barley wet behind the ears,¡± The old General said.


    ¡°Gods, you act as if your life is secure. Do you not know what it takes to keep you alive after what you¡¯ve done?¡±


    Gallis huffed. ¡°You¡¯ll not kill me. You have not the stuff that your father has,¡±


    Harin stepped forward, a handbreadth from Gallis¡¯ face. ¡°You can thank you king of ink for your life. Whatever life it may be. You can thank me for your life. But mark my words, the law will hold you and your family accountable. Everything you own, that golden palace that you have for a home will be chopped up and sold. Down to the last stone. Your family, your wife and two boys will be out on their arses. They will have to fend for themselves, in this pit forsaken nation,¡±


    Gallis turned a deeper shade of red, lunging forward with his hands going up towards Harin¡¯s throat.


    Harin spun, driving his right hand across Gallis¡¯ body and then spinning away from the man. He batted down the general¡¯s hands as he turned, letting the older man fall to the ground in his wake.


    Gallis cursed as he hit the ground.


    Harin heard a satisfying crack of Gallis¡¯ head hitting the stone floor.


    The guards rushed past Harin as Gallis got up from his fall. Harin did not look back as Gallis began to scream for him. Obscenities, curses form the gods.


    The shouting echoed down the stone hallways as Harin walked past the other cells. Each prisoner shouting in echo of Gallis. The madhouse had animated itself, a song of screaming and curses. Harin walked to the door at the end of the hall, knocking on the steel door once to let the guard know he was done. He could hear the struggles from the cells behind him. The guards now trying to regain peace after Gallis¡¯ outburst.

 Chapter 9

    Harin knocked on the large door, putting his head down and taking a deep breath.


    ¡°What¡¯s your business?¡± A gruff voice asked through  the door.


    Harin chuckled. ¡°I might ask you the same,¡±


    The door opened, a man inside giving a bow to Harin. Brago stepped forward, making the large man guarding the door take a step back. Not used to being intimidated, the man eyed Brago for a few moments before deciding he was out matched.


    Harin rubbed at his face to stop himself from laughing. Men of war were always sizing each other up. His father had a famous saying in Landor. He¡¯d always check when he entered a room to make sure he could kill everyone inside of it.


    As a child, he¡¯d thought his father a marvel. A war hero. As a king, he cursed his father¡¯s stubbornness.


    Birds chirped from floors above them. The echoing through the house let Harin know that it was empty, or almost empty.


    ¡°Where is she?¡± He asked the man. ¡°Come Othel, must we do this every time?¡±


    ¡°To be fair sire, she is a princess in her own right. I have a hard time making sense of who to listen to some days,¡± Othel shrugged.


    The man was shorter than Brago but just as wide. He was dressed in respectable clothing, nothing flashy, but clearly had some coin for fashionable clothing. The blade at his side, it¡¯s golden hilt let Harin know that the muscle that his sister had hired knew his weapons.


    ¡°Is that Alec¡¯s mark on the hilt?¡± Harin asked.


    Othel smiled a tooth grin, then started to pull the hilt of the dagger from his belt.


    Brago stepped between Othel and Harin immediately.


    Othel sneered, but stopped himself from pulling the weapon out of his belt.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay Brago,¡± Harin put his hand on his Praetorian¡¯s shoulder.


    Othel held his sneer, watching Brago move away, but not more than a step from between Harin and Othel.


    ¡°Aye, he owed me a favour,¡± Othel added.


    The stink of his breath made Harin want to gag, but he held his composure. This muscle that his sister hired was interesting. Not many men were owed a favour by the best bladesmith in Landor. Especially not one that made blades for Landor¡¯s royalty and most of the royalty in the eastern nations.


    ¡°We are here for Anastasia, I¡¯ll see myself up Othel,¡± Harin nodded to Othel and walked past him.


    His sister had chosen to take up residence in their family home. One that his mother had lived in since she was a child. The main floor housed two twin suitcase on either side of the home, each of them reaching up into the second floor, wrapping up, out and inward. The great staircases were of beautifully polished woods from places that Harin had never been.


    Harin¡¯s other grandfather, one he¡¯d only know in his childhood had been a sea captain. Well traveled and rich. He¡¯d imported much of the inner decorations of the home Harin had known his whole life.


    Harin made his way up the suitcase, pulling on the rail as he went. He couldn¡¯t help but think of memories of his father chasing him, with Fabien as he slid down the railings to the main floor. He smiled.


    The second floor of the house was made up of a large central room with bedrooms off of the main living area. Harin moved forward, straight to the back of their childhood home to the staircase that was well hidden behind a false wall. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    He climbed the stairway, this one old and worn in the center from years of travel up and down.


    As he emerged into the third floor, he smiled. The upstairs was made up of where the roof peaked. Each wall on al four sides peaked upwards to the center. A bed, a desk and chairs was all that filled the space. It had been Anastasia¡¯s room for as long as Harin could remember. She always wanted to be alone, to have space to herself. His father had laughed when he¡¯d asked about it as a boy.


    ¡°She¡¯s wild son, she wants to be free,¡± Dragh had told Harin.


    Harin hadn¡¯t understood. Not until he¡¯d grown. His sister was free, she was her own person. She was not meant for dresses and parties. She was meant for greater things. Her calling was to power. If she¡¯d been born before Harin, she¡¯d be sitting on the throne.


    Which was why he¡¯d come.


    ¡°Brother!¡± Anastasia said, getting up from behind the plain wooden desk. She wore a plain dress, her hair down, curly and swaying from side to side.


    Harin watched as papers fluttered atop the desk at Anastasia''s sudden movement. As she grew closer, she put her hands out. The ink stains on her thumb and forefinger standing out.


    ¡°Sister,¡± Hair embraced her.


    The hug lasted as long as it needed to. As long as they needed to tell each other it was okay. Harin had been angry at Anastasia for what she¡¯d found about Gallis. He¡¯d not wanted to hear it.


    ¡°Brago,¡± Anastasia greeted the Praetorian.


    Harin looked between them, catching something that he¡¯d seen before, in his own study when they¡¯d been talking of his fathers abandonment to the south.


    ¡°Princes,¡± Brago said, his face strained.


    The moment lengthened. Anastasia smiled, one eyebrow raised at the Praetorian.


    Harin cleared his throat, Brago snapped back to the present, looking at Harin.


    ¡°We must speak sister,¡± Harin said nodding forward.


    ¡°I hear that your man here,¡± Anastasia nodded to Brago. ¡°Is going to replace Gallis,¡±


    Brago¡¯s cheeks turned a Hugh of pink Harin had not seen before.


    ¡°Ana, why are you spying on me?¡±


    Harin scolded his sister. He knew that the game was afoot, she had her strike, but he had his chance to have one over on her. ¡°Do you know what I¡¯d ask of you?¡±


    The sound of birds chirping, calling to each other was louder now, just above their heads.


    ¡°Did you start a new line?¡± Harin asked.


    Anastasi perked up. ¡°I did! Father brought me a gift from the south, a nest with eggs. They hatched yesterday. The aviary is excited,¡±


    Harin smiled. His sister had loved birds since they were young.


    ¡°What brings you here brother?¡± Anastasia asked, sitting back down.


    Harin helped himself to the chair in front of her desk and crossed his legs, adjusting Dawnbringer in her scabbard. ¡°I¡¯m leaving,¡±


    Anastasia looked at Harin, then to Brago. ¡°Tell me that you¡¯re not foolish enough to do what I think you¡¯re going to do,¡±


    Harin laughed. ¡°To put myself at the whim of the Council, in the most dangerous place within the entire East? I¡¯d never dream of it,¡±


    Anastasia blew air through her nose. ¡°Are you bringing him?¡±


    Harin looked back at Brago who had a pained look on his face. His eyebrow were knitted.


    ¡°We are marching within the week. The call for the Legion¡¯s has been put out. I need something from you Ana,¡± Harin said.


    ¡°As usual brother. What is it?¡±


    ¡°I need something from you. I come here to ask because I know it will cost you,¡±


    Anastasia gave her brother a questioning look. One that Harin had not seen often on her face. The top floor of this house may not look like much, but it was the headquarters of the largest spy cabal in the east. Anastasia¡¯s business was more lucrative than her grandfather¡¯s merchants business had ever been. Her business was like the Church of Zufiers. Information.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised that you don¡¯t know already Ana,¡± Harin surprised a laugh.


    A slight breeze sept through the room from an open window. The papers on Anastasia¡¯s desk fluttered, but did not move.


    Brago chuckled behind Harin. He wanted to ask the Praetorian what made him laugh, an oddity for the usually stoic man.


    Realization dawned on Anastasia¡¯s face. ¡°Oh, you think that I plan to stay here while you play at war?¡±


    Now it was Harin¡¯s turn to be confused. ¡°Where do you think you¡¯ll be going?¡±


    Brago snorted.


    Harin turned to his Praetorian. ¡°What is it?¡±


    Brago turned a shade of red. ¡°Nothing, sorry sire,¡±


    Harin turned back to Anastasia.


    ¡°I will be marching with you brother,¡±


    Harin and Brago both made noses of shock. Harin head Brago¡¯s as he made his own. He felt his jaw drop, starring at his sister. She sat, smug in her comment.


    ¡°No, I forbid it,¡±


    Anastasia looked on as if Harin hadn¡¯t spoken. ¡°I think not dear brother, I will not be asked to stay here, to look after the crown while you are off playing at war.


    ¡°You will not being coming to war with us. We are simply going to the Skellen Pass to serve the Tim that our father refuses to. The Council wants their power over us. I will allow them to have this victory so that we do not face the prospect of another war. The Compact is all that keeps us safe right now.


    ¡°If you still believe that, then you need to read your histories again brother. The Compact is only keeping us safe for as long as men are willing to uphold it. The Compact means nothing if the armies behind it are not strong enough to support The Council. That is what they gain by the Legions of all nations in the east rotating through the Pass,¡±


    ¡°Power,¡± Harin said.


    ¡°Power,¡± His sister agreed.


    ¡°So, who¡¯s coming with us?¡± Anastasia asked.


    ¡°Us?¡± Harin said.


    Anastasia got up from her desk and moved over to a side table where she grabbed a jug and poured three glasses of ale. She turned back. ¡°Of course, I¡¯ll be going with you, stop this arguing, you know that I will win out. I always do brother,¡±


    Harin starred at his sister, the same look his grandfather had held when he faced an opponent in the throne room. A look that had withered men before him. His sister didn¡¯t flinch. She knew the tricks of royalty.


    ¡°Marius and the Fourth. The Sixth, Eight, Third and The Dragon Legion will have to protect the nation,¡±


    ¡°Father will not be pleased,¡± Anastasia said.


    Harin scoffed. ¡°I am the king of Landor, not father. I do not take my leave by him, I am in command. I care not what he thinks,¡±


    ¡°Sure, brother, Marius knows his business. He will not lead us astray,¡±


    ¡°My people tell me that the Church has already met with Councilman Jard. They conspire openly now,¡± Harin said to his sister.


    Anastasia nodded. ¡°The Council, the Church, they hear all. We are fighting a war with them, in the darkness, in the gutters of Landor. We fight them on the docks, in the taverns, in the street. They are everywhere. My people are having a hard time keeping up. Let alone buying what information we have to buy,¡±


    Information. That was the war he would be fighting now. The Council, fed information by the Church of Zufier. He¡¯d always suspected, but to hear his sister confirm it after his father had made the acquisition. That was all that he needed.

 Chapter 11

    Hemmelle grunted, squeezing his eyes shut at the pain.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it.¡± the young tribesman said, holding up an arrow tip between his bloody fingers.


    Hemmelle cursed.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was you old friend. How could we have?¡± Teffal said to Hemmelle, clapping him on the back.


    ¡°Do you always shoot your friends before seeing if it¡¯s them?¡± Hemmelle rose up from his seat, but winced at the pain in his leg.


    Teffal and his ilk of the Argu, defenders of the Northern Tribes were arrayed around the three men from Landor. They were in an alcove of rock and earth, a natural feature on the northern side of the Car Lauch, gouged into the earth as if by the gods, these natural alcoves stretched throughout the north.


    Men and women who had nothing left but their nation, the defense of the tribes joined the Argu. Many of them bore wounds of battles past. All of them had the look of those that had seen too much death.


    ¡°What are you doing here my old friend?¡± Teffal asked, scratching his gray beard.


    ¡°You lot have always shot before asking questions,¡± Hemmelle retorted.


    Hemmelle rolled and tried to get up from the ground.


    ¡°Here, let me help -¡± Ethers said, reaching out to help Hemmelle to his feet.


    Hemmelle batted the young man¡¯s hands away.


    Ethers said nothing, taking a step back to give Hemmelle Space.


    Hemmelle got to his feet, gingerly putting weight on his leg where he¡¯d been shot with an arrow from the tribesmen. He winced. The pain shooting up his leg. He could see Teffal giving a look to Ethers, an understanding passing between them.


    ¡°Pit, you had to get luck this time,¡± Hemmelle cursed. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Teffal put his hand on Hammell¡¯s shoulder. ¡°No need to be digging up the past, as I remember it you left me on a dock, shouting in anger many years ago, the pain was similar,¡±


    Hemmelle grinned. ¡°And then I returned and let you lot terrorize me until the General came to give your people terms,¡±


    Hemmelle remembered the first days of the Dragon Legion. The Second wiped out, Dragh becoming what he¡¯d been born to be, a Sunborn, a leader. They¡¯d wiped out the men of the East, pretenders trying to inspire a war between the north and Landor.


    ¡°Best I did not give you to the Ambi, the green men wanted to string you up and cut pieces away from you,¡±


    ¡°You forget, I let you capture me,¡±


    Teffal laughed now, a genuine sound that echoed in the mountains.


    ¡°It has been many years, why are you here Hemmelle? The last I¡¯d heard the Chieftains had sent Cann to the south to treat with your king,¡±


    Hemmelle looked around at the men gathered, the Argu and his two men of the Legion. He gripped Taffel¡¯s arm. ¡°I must speak with you,¡±


    Teffal looked back at the group of men and then back to Hemmelle. ¡°Say what you must, they are my blood pack, You can say anything you need in front of them. They have sworn the blood oath of the Argu. They have only the Argu.


    Hemmelle considered the men around him. He¡¯d forgotten of the Argu¡¯s plight. All of the soldiers, men and women both were fierce. They¡¯d been forged in the pain of loss. To a solider, the Argu were made up of those who¡¯d had their families destroyed, killed. To join the Argu you had to give up your tribe, and join anew. The price was your life, to defend the Tribes in the North.


    ¡°Pathos, Ethers, swear on the dragon that you will speak none of this,¡± Hemmelle raised his arm, the black tattoo of the Dragon wrapped around his arm.


    Pathos and Ethers both traded looks and then back to Hemmelle.


    ¡°Hic Sunt Dracones!¡± They both responded.


    Quiet filled the space as the echo of their shout faded.


    ¡°The General has sent me here to find Azal, your holy man. I must seek an audience at all costs. But none must know. The Council and the Church have spies everywhere,¡±


    Whispers deafened Hemmelle, the Argu stirred. Teffal frowned as Hemmelle explained.


    ¡°What, what is it?¡± Hemmelle asked.


    ¡°He is not here,¡±


    ¡°Not here, is he at the Spires? We will go where we must, you must take me to him if you can,¡± Hemmelle implored the older man.


    Teffal looked at Hemmelle with a sad look. ¡°I cannot go where he is, and you should not either. You will not survive it,¡±


    It was Hammell¡¯s turn to scoff. ¡°I¡¯ve survived the mountains of the Car Lauch, the killing of my entire Legion and three wars. I can survive a hike, Teffal,¡±


    ¡°He is with the Sinovi, Hemmelle,¡± Teffal said, his voice lowered as if to ward off some enemy around him.


    ¡°It cannot be. They are a myth,¡± Hemmelle said, stumbling as he tried to walk forward.


    Teffal caught Hemmelle as he stumbled. ¡°They are no myth, Hemmelle, if you want to speak with Azal, you must go find the Sinovi, Azal goes to them now,¡±


    ¡°Where must I go?¡± Hemmelle asked.


    ¡ª--


    ¡°The Sinovi? They are a myth, how can I find a people who are no more than stories?¡± Hemmelle grumbled.


    ¡°So why do we go west, Legate?¡± Pathos asked.


    Hemmelle didn¡¯t respond, he kept walking, the pain in his leg shooting and throbbing as he stepped. Each step a reminder of how much further he had to go.


    ¡°Hemmelle?¡± Pathos asked again.


    Hemmelle bit back a retort, remembering his own days a young man in the Second. The Legates, the Primus¡¯ always chewed his head off when he asked questions. He had promised himself he would not become the gruff old man of the Legions.


    ¡°Because, Pathos, The General commanded us to find this Azal, and we will find him. We will find him or die on this journey,¡± Ethers responded.


    Hemmelle smiled. The young tribesmen understood honor in a way that the youth of Landor, Pathos did not. Patients had paid Hemmelle back, not having to explain the young Pathos something that time or disaster would teach him.


    ¡°Tell me, who are you to the tribes, Ethers?¡± Hemmelle asked.


    The youth gave Hemmelle a dark look, one that spoke of a past that Hemmelle understood.

 Chapter 12

    Harin held up his sword, Dawnbringer above his head.


    Rain had come the night before, the dark clouds a reminder of these god¡¯s gift to the farmers fields. He held his sword for a moment, taking in the array of men and women in front of him from where he sat atop his saddle. His mount was stock still, trained their whole life to follow every touch of it¡¯s riders wants and needs.


    Many years before him, under Kallen¡¯s reign the army of Landor had formed into Legions of men and women. His son¡¯s exploits, Harin¡¯s fathers in the north had shown them that women were as fierce as men on the battlefield. Some of the best archers that Landor had were women.


    ¡°Men and Women of Landor.¡± He shouted.


    ¡°Aaaaroooo!¡± The soldiers of the Fourth Legion under General Marius and his Praetorian Legion shouted in response.


    The sound rolled over Harin like a wave of power. Thousands of his people, two full Legions answered his call.


    ¡°We march to the Skellen Pass! We march to defend the Pass from the Horde!¡± Harin pointed his sword to the west, his people brandishing their own swords in each squad, and each legion.


    ¡°Aaaarooo!¡± The soldiers shouted again.


    Harin paused, looking out at his Legions arrayed before Landor¡¯s walls. Was he damming them all? Was he damming his nation? The Council was not to be trusted, not that he¡¯d agree with his father they were evil. But he knew that they had their own plans, their own machinations for Landor and the Kings of the east. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The men and women of the Legion began to march, turning in their arrayed squads and moving off to the east at a march.


    The day was peaceful, the cold of the fall upon them as the leaves of trees seemed to fall with each footfall of the Legions. Harin looked to the peaks of the Car Lauch to the north and then to the west.


    ¡°What is it brother?¡±


    ¡°Kiever¡¯s balls,¡± Harin cursed. His horse lurched to the right.


    Anastasia laughed, her horse snorting as she did. ¡°Did I scare you brother? Gods, you need to work on that, the men of the Horde will be a sight scarier than I am,¡±


    Harin leaned forward and patted his horses neck. Calming the beast. ¡°Easy Huzel, easy,¡±


    Harin had ridden his horse Huzel since the death of his first horse, the one that his father, Dragh had gifted him as a boy. Huzel was the first horse he¡¯d picked for himself from the royal stables. He was a mountain horse from the north. Strong bloodlines that had been around since the days of empire.


    ¡°Nothing sister, looking forward to the march,¡±


    Anastasia clicked her tongue. ¡°Brother of mine, you can play your games with your court, but remember who taught you of politics, of the truth,¡±


    ¡°Aye, there is that sister,¡± Harin sighed, looking around to make sure he was alone. ¡°I worry for Landor sister, I worry that we are pulling our Legions away from her when she needs them most,¡±


    Anastasia bit her lip. ¡°Father is in the south, you have two legions between us and Skellen, what could harm us?¡±


    Harin¡¯s horse pawed at the earth. His blood up, watching the legions move out. He knew it was time for them to ride. Harin¡¯s own stomach would not settle, out of sorts like his mind.


    ¡°I know not. The tribes will protect the north, father the south. The Pass we will defend. But something is wrong. Something is wrong, it feels like it did before the wars. As if our lives are hanging on the edge of a sword and one wrong move could destroy us,¡±


    ¡°My people, they tell me that money is moving, much of it to the south and to the Pass. I do not know what for, but it may be connect brother,¡±


    Harin nodded. ¡°We shall speak tonight, when we are in camp.


    All Legions build camps on the move. There were three within marching distance of Landor where the Legions would defend the realm from when not on duty in other parts of the nation. Each of the camps in the North, South and West. The Landorian Navy protected the approach from the East on the seas.


    When the Legions moved out past the camps, they would send out scouts to mark out camps, build them and keep safe during the night.


    Harin sat tall in his saddle, readying to leave.


    ¡°Where is your Praetorian? How did he take the promotion?¡± Anastasia asked.


    ¡°What is he to you sister?¡± Harin asked.


    Harin was rewarded with his sisters cheeks turning a rosy red before she turned and trotted off. Harin shook his head and chuckled before following her.

 Chapter 13

    Dragh pushed up a cloth from around his neck to cover his mouth and nose. The stench of death heavy in the square outside the Church of Zufier. He then took off his helmet, running his hand through his hair, pushing back the sweat and grime of killing.


    It had been swift, he¡¯d led the charge on the small garrison.


    He turned back to the half built church, it¡¯s timbers standing proud, emerging from it¡¯s stone body in the sky high above them like the skeleton of half eaten animal.


    ¡°Quintus!¡± Dragh shouted.


    The milling of soldiers was loud, their studded boots on stone, the clinking of armor, swords, shields and axes. Hundreds, thousands of them all waiting for a command from their Primus¡¯, Legates and Generals.


    His men had been wound, ready for a fight. The Dragon Legion and the Third under General Quintus.


    A big man, shoulders wider than Dragh¡¯s walked from among the throng of soldiers in the courtyard.


    ¡°General!¡± Quintus stood at attention before Dragh.


    ¡°Cut that shit out my friend.¡± Dragh said.


    Quintus grunted.


    ¡°You do not approve?¡± Dragh asked. ¡°They were mercenaries Quintus.¡±


    Quintus looked around, taking in the dead bodies of the guards. They were mercenaries of no discernible nation. Some darkened by the sun, like men of the south and Ralarian Islands, some red haired and pale like those of the tribes in the north.


    ¡°The Church, the Council are involved Quintus.¡±


    Quintus squinted, but not from the sun hitting their faces in the early morning light. ¡°You know I believe in the gods, that I pray to Zufier.¡±


    ¡°They killed my family Quintus.¡± Dragh said.


    Quintus chewed on his lip.


    ¡°You think that attacking this church will bring down the gods ire on us? You think Zufier will strike us down?¡±


    Quintus nodded.


    ¡°They are false priests Quintus. They believe that Zufier is the only god. But we know different. We are men of war, of Palegh. We protect the weak against the wolves of this world. We know that Ussil puts wind in the sails of our navy, Heeseir fills us with the love of our family when we are here.¡±


    Quintus looked around, making sure that none were within earshot. ¡°General, I worry that Zufiers priests will curse us. That we are marked men.¡±


    Dragh put his hand on Quintus¡¯ shoulder. ¡°I promise you, these are false priests. Their business is not religion, it is information. Their spy network is larger than Landor¡¯s. We are fighting a war of ideas. They try to convince our people that the world is small, that Zufier is all. Then, when our people no longer believe in the old gods, all of them, they will tell them that Zufier speaks only to them. That they should listen to only them. And what do you think will happen after that? After they have convinced our people to listen to the one god?¡±


    Quintus blinked, once, then twice. ¡°They will turn them to the churches will.¡±


    ¡°And they are against the Sunborn. That we know.¡±


    Dragh saw understanding dawn on Quintus¡¯ face.


    ¡°What needs to be done General?¡± Quintus stiffened, understanding the stakes of the war that Dragh was starting.


    ¡°NORTH!¡± The shout went up from the scouts beyond the church interrupting Quintus¡¯ and Dragh.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    They were surrounded by rolling hills. They were south of Landor, in another nations land where The Dragon and The Third Legions had staked their Camps in search of Lucille and Fabien¡¯s killers.


    Dragh looked north and could see a man on horseback riding hard across the empty hills.


    The church was placed in the south on it¡¯s own, intended to bring a village with it when it was completed. Now there were only stonemasons, carpenters and soldiers.


    They¡¯d let the workmen run off after they¡¯d killed the soldiers.


    As the man grew closer Dragh recognised the man by his horses gait. One trained in Landor, many years ago. One of the Second Legion before it was destroyed by his uncle. Destroyed by men from the east under the guise of warring tribesmen. He and his squad that had survived the plot to kill off the Second and start a war between the Tribes and Landor had thwarted his betraying uncle. They¡¯d foiled his plot and uncovered something far more insidious than betrayal.


    Men of the Third and the Dragon began to move to form a defensive unit between Dragh and the oncoming threat.


    His soldiers defended first, trusted second.


    The shouts of a young Primus in charge of the makeshift squad rang out above the crackling fires behind him.


    ¡°Let him through!¡± Dragh called out to the soldiers that had began to form ahead of him.


    Cello urged his hose though the soldiers, pushing hard to the very end where he reined in and dismounted at a trot.


    Cello saluted. ¡°General Dragh, General Quintus.¡±


    ¡°What news Cello?¡±


    ¡°A letter, from Landor, I met a messenger on the road back from the Clover Inn. He had news, we traded and I made for you as soon as I could General.¡±


    Cello gave a short bow to Dragh.


    ¡°What does the letter say, Cello?¡± Dragh asked, uncorking his canteen and taking a long drink from it, then offering it to Cello.


    Dragh trusted his men implicitly. The Legates with him now had been with him for a generation. They¡¯d been with him since the Second was destroyed.


    ¡°The King, he marches to Skellen, the Council calls for an army to defend the Pass from the Hordes attacks. The Council says they are moving in numbers we¡¯ve not seen in a generation,¡± Cello panted.


    ¡°Get some rest Legate,¡± Dragh waved Cello off.


    Dragh moved forward, towards the church. ¡°Come General,¡±


    Four soldiers of the Dragon Legion, more red than gold in their uniforms emerged from the church doors. They drug forward a shouting priest between them, two men on his legs, two on his arms.


    Dragh walked to the men, meeting them in the middle of the courtyard of death.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be HUNG for this!¡± The priest screamed.


    The man was slight, his face and shoulders narrow. His cheeks pudgy, his complexion grey.


    The men of the Dragon Legion dumped the priest on the ground, the thud audible as he hit the pavers of the courtyard.


    ¡°Tell me of the Alamata priest. Tell me of the death you purchased for my blood.¡± Dragh said, yanking the man¡¯s head back by his hair.


    The priest froze in fear, his eyes bulging at the name Alamata.


    ¡°What - what are you talking about. This is Blas homey against Zufier!¡± The priest shrieked.


    ¡°Tell me priest, or I will show you the old ways of speaking to Zufier, the ways of the Northern tribes. The ones that they tell you little boys stories of to make you cry when you are a bad boy,¡±


    Dragh wrinkled his nose.


    The priest began to cry, a dark stain spreading out from his robes, a puddle formed on the ground where he was knelt.


    ¡°Palegh¡¯s balls you coward,¡± Dragh slapped the priest on the back of the head.


    The priest shouted out in pain.


    ¡°Tell me of the Alamata, tell me everything you know and I will let you stay with your church, here on this ground,¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s - it¡¯s inside,¡± The priest said, defeated.


    ¡°Show me,¡± Dragh said.


    The four soldiers of the Dragon Legion followed Quintus and Dragh as the priest hobbled back into the church. The holy man sobbed as he saw the dead bodies around him, taking in the horror of the death around him for the first time.


    The church was simply laid out, a large hall with ceilings reaching up to the sky, to Zufier. Benches in rows looking inward at a central pulpit, a center walkway with a door to the priests quarters behind it.


    They followed the priest back into his quarters. The room behind the sparse church was opulent. There was a bed with silken sheets, a fireplace with jelled artistry on either side of it, books in a corner study with a desk of beautifully carved oak. The fireplace was alive with flame and had stew bubbling in it¡¯s cauldron, steam issuing off the top, giving the living quarters a mouthwatering smell.


    ¡°Hard living priest,¡± Dragh commented.


    The priest winced but said nothing.


    The priest went to his desk, rummaging through the papers atop the desk.


    One of the soldiers moved to stop the priest.


    ¡°He¡¯ll not try anything foolish Res.¡± Dragh said to the solider.


    The soldier nodded and took a step back.


    Dragh watched the priests eyes flash with recognition. He palmed a small knife from within his belt.


    The priest looked up, shrugging as his eyes met Dragh¡¯s. ¡°I must have misplaced it, the letters.¡±


    It happened quickly.


    The priest bunched the papers in his hand and lunged towards the fireplace.


    Dragh reacted, his years of warfare honing his instincts. He threw the blade from underhand, aiming low and lunging forward himself.


    The blade spun, catching the priest in his thigh just before Dragh threw his shoulder into the little man.


    The crack of the priests head on the stone wall let Dragh know that he¡¯d hit the man hard enough. Dragh stepped back and let the man crumble to the floor. Blood spilled down his face from a gash in his temple. The knife that had embedded in the little man¡¯s leg would have been enough to stop him.


    Dragh pulled the crumpled papers from the man¡¯s hand.


    The priest woke as if from a nightmare, then his eyes found Dragh and he shouted in pain and horror. He was in a waking nightmare, much worse than what his mind had conjured.


    Dragh opened the letters, letting the priest shout in pain while he read through the papers.


    ¡°You should have burned these. Did you intend to use them against Father Kent? They are a weak cypher at best,¡±


    The priest sobbed more quietly now, nodding. ¡°Please-¡±


    ¡°What do they say General?¡± Quintus asked.


    ¡°They damn the church, they damn Father Kent. They speak of the Alamata and the price on my blood,¡±


    ¡°The Alamata?¡± Quintus asked.


    ¡°Aye, the killers in dark gray robes that they spoke of in the south. The shadows in the darkness,¡± Dragh said, reading the letters over again.


    ¡°Kiever below. You were right,¡± Quintus muttered.


    ¡°Please sir, please, I was just doing what I was told,¡± the priest sobbed again.


    ¡°I know,¡± Dragh said. ¡°But you killed my son, my wife. And for that, you will go to the pit,¡± Dragh said.


    ¡°Kent! It was Kent¡¯s idea!¡±


    ¡°Burn it down Quintus,¡± Dragh barked. ¡°And hang him from the rafters of the place, as is fitting of a priest of Zufier,¡±


    The priest screamed, soldiers held him back. ¡°You said you¡¯d let me stay here, with my church. You lied!¡±


    Dragh smiled. ¡°I said you could stay, and you will, as fire consumes this church of lies. You will meet your Zufier soon enough, you will be hung in the sky so that you can see him on the way to Kiever in the underworld,¡±


    ¡°Nonoo!¡± The priest sobbed.


    Dragh flipped the priest two coins of gold. They clattered on the ground in front of him. ¡°Tell Kiever that this is advanced payment for the souls that will be joining you,¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll rot in the Pit!¡± The priest shouted in vain.


    Dragh walked from the church, the screams of the priest echoing out of the carcass of the unfinished church.

 Chapter 14

    Harin knelt and dipped his hands in the water of the river, cupping them and then bringing the water to his mouth. He drank deeply.


    ¡°My Liege!¡± A call came from behind him.


    Harin sighed, but got up, turning to see what new issue had arisen. He had left the Capitol, but the problems of the crown were never far from a king.


    ¡°What is it Brago?¡±


    ¡°It looks like a messenger from the Council. And one from Landor,¡± Brago said.


    Harin could now see two men riding towards them, one in red and gold, one with the crest of the council on his chest.


    Both rode close and dismounted at the Praetorian¡¯s guarding Harin.


    Harin walked to meet them, allowing his legs to stretch after a week in the saddle.


    ¡°Men, what news?¡± He asked the two, nodding to his own man first.


    The Councils messenger seemed agitated, bouncing from foot to foot.


    ¡°The General sends word, for your ears only my liege,¡± The messenger from Landor bowed and held a folded letter forward to Harin.


    Harin took the paper and pushed it into his coat pocket.


    ¡°And the Council?¡± Harin asked.


    The second messenger stepped forward, his face impassive as he held his hand out with a folded message for Harin.


    ¡°Bow before the king, messenger,¡± Brago said.


    The messenger gave a dismissive look to Brago and gave the message a shake.


    Harin raised his eyebrow to the messenger and turned his head to Brago.


    ¡°Bow, or I will help you with it, messenger,¡± Brago spoke quietly, taking one step towards the messenger from Harin¡¯s side.


    The messenger looked at Brago again, this time taking in the size of the Praetorian, and then, with reluctance painted on his face he gave a clipped bow and held out the message to Harin again.


    Harin nodded to Brago who took the letter. He then motioned for the messenger from Landor to follow.


    The messenger from the Council scoffed at the rude rebuke. Harin wanted to strike the messenger from the Council, the entitlement of the man infuriating.


    Harin stopped a distance from the soldiers and Praetorians around him. Brago stood at a distance from him.


    ¡°Brago,¡± Harin called.


    Brago came to the pair and stopped.


    ¡°You need to hear this, whatever it is,¡± Harin nodded to the messenger.


    ¡°You father, it seems he burned a Church of Zufier as well as an Inn on his journey south,¡± The young man looked from Brago to Harin and back, his eyes darting as he spoke, one leg tapping in the mud.


    ¡°Thank you, get some water and food before you return to Landor,¡±


    ¡°Thank you my liege, is there a message you¡¯d like returned,¡±


    Harin shook his head. ¡°No, I¡¯m certain my father knows what will have to be done after this,¡±


    The young messenger blushed.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Dismissed young man,¡± Brago said.


    Harin walked back to the messenger from the Council as he felt the heaviness in the pit of his stomach. His father was toying with the Compact. He was going to ruin the alliance he and the other nations had. All for the revenge of his own, a mission that he¡¯d been forbade to continue by Harin himself. He wanted to strike out, to take his anger at his father out on anyone.


    ¡°What is it?¡± He snapped at the Council¡¯s messenger.


    ¡°Your father is starting a war in the south. He burned the Clover Inn and a church to the ground. He killed a priest, the Council demands that you bring him to justice,¡± The man sneered.


    Brago stepped forward and slapped the messenger, sending him to the ground.


    The man got up. ¡°How dare you!¡±


    Brago stood over the man. ¡°You do not demand anything from my liege. You ask. As does your precious Council.¡±


    The man glowered at Brago from the ground.


    Brago stood above him, his presence threat enough that the messenger did not attempt to get up.


    Harin squatted on his heels, not kneeling in the mud again. ¡°I signed the Compact, I did not give the Council my Kingdom of Landor. You will give my crown the respect I deserve, or my men will show you how we handle disrespect in Landor,¡±


    The messenger finally dipped his head to Harin.


    Harin in turn gave Brago a nod who stepped back, allowing the messenger to stand back up. The man brushed at his clothes, trying to get the muck off of himself. Realizing it was not going to happen, the man gave up and looked back to Harin.


    ¡°My lord, the Council informs you that your father must be brought before them for his crimes in the south, as the Compact demands of all nations to keep the peace,¡± The messenger looked a little smug.


    Harin tried to guard his emotions, his rage at his fathers insanity, his anger that the general in command of the army of Landor would put all of the nation at risk. He breathed in and out, trying to control his face.


    ¡°What say you - my lord,¡± The messenger glanced at Brago, the pause an awkward length.


    Harin gritted his teeth. ¡°I will judge the crimes of my soldiers, my people. And I will dole out justice accordingly, as a king¡¯s right,¡±


    The messenger was about to speak again, but Brago put his hand on the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You have a chance here, do not mistake my liege¡¯s kindness for leniency, in Landor you are responsible for what you say,¡±


    Harin watched the emotions run across the young man¡¯s face. The defiance that all young men felt, then, the fight for self preservation. He knew that it was not worth a confrontation with Brago again.


    ¡°I ask that you deliver him to us, as the Council has - requested in it¡¯s - letter,¡±


    Harin turned on his heel and walked away, back to his waiting Legion.


    ¡°Lord -¡±


    The question was cut off suddenly. Harin smiled, Brago would have helped the young man gain some wisdom about how to speak to Kings.


    Harin¡¯s blood still ran hot, boiling inside of him. He would might kill his own father if he kept this up. First he refused to serve his time at the Skellen Pass, and now this. He would upset the whole nation. He¡¯d ruin the peace that Harin had been forced to make with the eastern nations and the Council.


    ¡ª--


    ¡°We will be at the Pass by the end of the day my liege. Do we camp here, or push on?¡± Brago asked Harin after.


    The scouting party of three cavalry had reined in their horses and were standing, panting, their horses pawing at the earth.


    Harin looked to the mountain range of the Car Lauch that had grown steadily closer in the last day. It¡¯s peaks reaching into the skies, an offering to the gods from the earth itself.


    Skellen Pass was built in a gulf between the mountains of the Car Lauch. The range split between the Pass, but was bridged by a set of stone walls with a massive iron and wooden gate. The stone walls were hundreds of paces long, at least a hundred paces high. Men watched from the top and inside the wall, a network of hallways and ramparts to allow for archers and spearmen.


    The walls engulfed the Pass, a town in and of itself. The Pass was the seat of power in the east. The seat of the Council who held the land together by their Compact and their hold on trade.


    Harin knew that to go to the Pass was to enter into a den of vipers. No matter where he stepped, he would be bitten. The size of the bite was the only thing left to the gods.


    ¡°Push on, I want a camp on the eastern side of the Pass set up before nightfall. Push the men to double pace if you think it necessary Legate Brago,¡±


    ¡°Aye my liege,¡± Brago saluted.


    ¡°Men, rest and return to your squads,¡± Harin gave the men of the scouting party a salute and let them go on their way.


    His army marched past, Brago stirring them up from the dead stop they¡¯d been at just moments before.


    Harin looked at the mountains and felt the dread of what he¡¯d committed to do.


    ¡°What do you think they want of us?¡±


    ¡°Zufier above!¡± Harin jumped in his saddle. ¡°Where¡¯d you come from?¡±


    Anastasia laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve been here the whole time brother. Your mind was elsewhere,¡±


    Harin agreed with his sister, but his heart still raced from his scare at her appearing at his side. ¡°I don¡¯t know sister. The Compact gave them power, the only thing left is our nations in the east,¡±


    Anastasia hummed a tune, more to her horse than Harin. He looked over at her, she had her eyes locked on the Pass, patting her horse at the same time. He knew her well enough to know that she was thinking.


    ¡°Tell me what you know,¡± Harin spoke softly.


    Anastasia stopped petter her horses neck, stopped humming and looked up, fear in her eyes. ¡°Did I ever tell you that father took me to the north once?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Harin asked, confused. He¡¯d never heard of this before.


    ¡°You remember when mother, you and Fabien went to the Ralarian Islands?¡±


    ¡°Aye, I didn¡¯t yet have hair on my face,¡± Harin scratched at his now full beard.


    Anastasia looked back out at the Pass. ¡°He took me north, told me that he had someone he wanted me to meet. He and I and Hemmelle went through the Car Lauch to the lands of the Tribes. It took us almost a week to get through the passed and the trails. I was so young, I¡¯d clung to old Rose, you remember her?¡±


    Harin chuckled now. ¡°I remember she nipped at me every time you passed me, she hated me,¡±


    ¡°She did, I always gave her a sweet treat when she nipped you,¡±


    ¡°Gods above! I should have known,¡± Harin gave his sister a nudge on the shoulder.


    ¡°Father took me to the north. He took me to meet Azal,¡±


    ¡°Azal?¡± Harin asked, confused at the name. Something in the back of his mind had tingled at the suggestion, like something was trapped in ice, pushing to break it¡¯s cocoon.


    ¡°Aye, a prophet of some sort. The Northern Tribes still hold to the old ways, still listen to the gods in their mushroom fevers,¡±


    Harin remained quiet, knowing his sister would take her time to talk.


    Dust clouds billowed over them. Harin cover his mouth with a cloth from around his neck, squinting to try and keep his eyes free from the grit of the dust. He failed, blinking hard until his eyes watered and cleared.


    ¡°He spoke to me of this place and the west. The Pass. He called it something else,¡±


    Harin looked to his sister who nodded along to something only she knew.


    ¡°He called it, Anis far,¡±


    ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°He told me it¡¯s in the old tongue, it means the heart, the path between two worlds. He told me that I would know fear in this place. He told me that I would face death in the west,¡±


    Harin considered his sisters words, she sounded almost scared the way she had recounted the mystery. He could see her fidgeting with her reins. Usually so sure of herself, he¡¯d not see her like this in a decade.


    ¡°And you think it is the pass where you will face your death?¡±


    Anastasia looked to Harin, wiping tears from her cheeks. ¡°I know it brother,¡±


    Harin put his hand out, close enough to her to grip her shoulder. ¡°I will keep you safe sister, stick to me, no harm with come to you,¡±


    Anastasi smiled, a half smile, the rest of her face still uncertain.

 Chapter 15

    ¡°We move to strike at the heart of the Horde!¡± The head of the council called out.


    Harin put his hand on the hilt of Dawnbringer, a comfort in his days on the march. He had begun to feel a sinking feeling as he¡¯d


    ¡°The heretics are plenty in the east, but the west, the Horde are all Heathers! We must cleanse the land of the godless horsemen!¡± Father Kent shouted.


    Many in the hall shouted their agreement to the proclamation, hands high in the air balled into fists.


    The Council Chambers were hewn into the Car Lauch Mountains, just as the Pass had been. His tutors had explained that this was once a natural passageway, that men and women had once traveled from east to west without fear. Many centuries ago. The Skellen Pass had been built as the west, the Horde began to war with the east.


    Nothing could stop the onslaught of the Horde. Their horses, arrows and men were uncountable. They blotted out the sun when their archers fired, almost every man and woman atop a horse had their own bow and quiver. The Eastern Kingdoms had joined together to build the Pass. Blocking the only real avenue of travel between the two worlds. No one traveled the other passes, it was death in the mountains.


    ¡°They speak as if these things were shite from Kiever¡¯s arse,¡± Harin said to Brago beside him.


    The usually stoic Praetorian couldn¡¯t help but let out a snort.


    Anastasia turned to look at Brago with a wry smile from across the table that the Landorian delegation was seated at.


    The hall was filled with such tables, men from Lugdon, Alesia, Hasal and others to the south of Landor. At the end of the hall, the groups of table all looked up to the raised dais for the seats of the Council. Each man and woman of the Council seated for tonight¡¯s gathering of the Compact¡¯s leaders. He recognized the men and women at each table, nobles or highly ranked martial folk. All armed and armored. As if they were already at war.


    ¡°And they must be stopped!¡± Kent shouted again to thunderous applause throughout the room.


    Harin felt his stomach drop. He knew the cadence of this speech. He knew where it was going to. He¡¯d heard it from his own father many years ago. The Council wanted a war. The Church wanted a war.


    ¡°We must show that the kingdoms of the east are strong! We must send forth our nations legions and put these Heathens in the ground!¡±


    A woman from Alesia stood at her table, waiting for the room to quiet. She stood, and all eyes were on her.


    ¡°Is that, Hethal?¡± Brago asked.


    ¡°It is,¡± Harin said, sharing a look with his sister.


    ¡°I thought she¡¯d lost half her hand? What is she doing here?¡± Brago said quietly as the rooms shoes began to slow.


    Harin sighed. ¡°Father doesn¡¯t lie about such things. Said that Hemmelle took it off in one of the last battles he fought in the south,¡±


    ¡°What is Queen Kassay thinking sending her here?¡± Brago asked.


    Anastasia looked across the room with some hate in her eyes. ¡°She is thinking that Landor will be here, and that she would like to spit in our face one more time. Her cloak still has mud on it, she just got here,¡±


    Harin looked at the female warrior who¡¯d plagued Landor¡¯s Legions in the southern wars. Heathel had  fought in the forests and swamps. Never meeting the Legions on open ground, but cutting away, bit by bit, soldier by soldier. A sting that became a wound. His father had trapped her one night, a series of trenches cut around the camp he¡¯d set, pickets that were unmanned, tents empty with fires lit. After he¡¯d killed most of her people, he and Hemmelle had battled her private guards and Hethal until the last. ¡°I thought she had gone off to grow fat and die. Kassay it cunning,¡±


    ¡°Here me! I am Hethal from Alesia!¡± The warrior woman shouted. She was tall and thin. Her hair was braided into two braids behind her head on ether side. Once blonde, now a steel gray. Her face wore a permanence scowl, her left hand gloved in block leather.


    ¡°Speak, Hethal, you are known to this Council,¡± One of the Council members said from their dais.


    He then nodded her thanks. ¡°I speak for Queen Kassay when I ask, what proof do you have? I will not march my queen¡¯s legions into the desert on the word of a priest,¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Anastasia said.


    Harin said nothing. It was not surprising to him that one such as Hethal would not believe in the purity of the Church of Zufier.


    ¡°How dare you!¡± A shout came from the crowd.


    Hethal looked on cooly.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Father Kent spread his hands and stepped towards the warrior woman from where he stood in front of the dais. ¡°Is it not enough that they do not pray to Zufier like you and I?¡±


    Hethal spit on the floor. ¡°You ask for my blood priest, I ask for proof of this plot to invade the eastern kingdoms!¡±


    Kent reared back as if he¡¯d been bitten by the feral warrior. ¡°I will not be spoken to like that, I am a messenger for the one truer god, Zufier!¡± Kent shouted.


    ¡°My friends! There is no need to fight with each other!¡± Councilman Jard said from atop the dais. He was seated three seats from the head od of the Council.


    All in the room looked to him. Harin could feel the tension in the room. Hethal, as much as she was an enemy of Landor had spoken a truth that many felt but would not say aloud.


    ¡°I¡¯m with Hethal, what proof have you?¡± Harin stood, speaking as he did. He surprised himself, ignoring the looks of shock from Brago and Anastasia. He was not a fighter, but a politician. He did not like his nickname, the Ink King. But he did understand it. Paper was his weapon, ink. He¡¯d now stepped onto the field of battle.


    The focus of the room turned again, this time to him. He felt the wave of attention hit him like a stampeding horse. He had to put one foot back, a shift on the balls of his feet to stop from staggering.


    ¡°My lords and ladies!¡± Jard said, his face serene and nodding as he spoke. ¡°I understand that many here have not faced the horde, that they are but a story in the books of our histories. A tale that we tell our children at night. But, I assure you that the threat is real. It is real and it faces us now. Our Legions have been fighting this menace since this place was build. We have bled to keep the eastern kingdoms safe.¡±


    Murmurs spread through the room now.


    ¡°And they like to remind us of it at every opportunity,¡± Anastasia quipped.


    ¡°Guards! Bring him in!¡± Councilman Jard said.


    The doors to the Council¡¯s Chamber opened with a crack that filled the space. The large doors were of oak and metal, aged hard and gray. They were double the height of any man and seemed to melt into the stone of the mountains.


    Between the doors walked a nightmare.


    Two guards of the Council¡¯s Legions walked on either side of a monster. The man was a head taller than then both, his broad chest bare. His head had dark hair, hacked off as if by knife. His face a mess of bruises and cuts, blackened scabs and open bloody wounds covered his entire upper torso.


    Chains clanged with each step that the man took.


    ¡°Kiever below, look at that thing,¡± Brago exhaled.


    Harin looked to the Council members and Father Kent as the rest of the room watched the prisoner, the tune of the chains at his waist, hands and ankles exhaling them as if they were snakes from a basket and the chains were a flute. The men and women all smirked, the look of satisfaction. Brief, but there.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen the likes,¡± Harin muttered.


    ¡°No one has in our lifetime brother, this smells of lies,¡± Anastasia said across the table.


    Harin watched the guards parade the chained man to the front of the room, just before the dais of the Council. The taller guard kicked the prisoner¡¯s leg, crumpling the beaten man to the ground and to his knees. The room was quiet enough that Harin heard the slap of leather boot on flesh as the guard made contact.


    ¡°Behold! One of the Iron Guard!¡±


    The room erupted. Shouting and hammering of cups, fists and weapons on wooden tables. All stood at the proclamation.


    ¡°I thought them myth, how did they capture one of the elites?¡± Anastasia said.


    Harin glanced at the warrior woman, Hethal and was surprised to see her staring at Harin. She dipped her head to him. Harin nodded back. Then, she turned and hollered with the crowd.


    ¡°I cannot believe it myself. Looks although Hethal and her kin have nothing left to say. I¡¯ve never heard of a live member of the Iron Guard being captured in generations. The texts in Landor tell us that they were the King¡¯s weapons in the west. The best riders and warriors of their people,¡± Harin watched in disbelief. He¡¯d read the texts of the west, heard the stories from his tutors. Never did he think he¡¯d see one.


    The Council was either wrapping them up in more lies, or the west was truly planning an invasion of the east.


    ¡°Quiet!¡±  The call came from Father Kent, starting out quiet and growing more irritated the more times he had to ask. ¡°Quiet! Quiet!¡±


    The room settled, the shouting receding like a wave on the beach.


    ¡°What you see before you are the only member of the Iron Guard captured in over one hundred years. The Council¡¯s Legions have been fighting this menace to keep us safe for many generations. But this, the Iron Guard itself attacked villages to the west, and then scouting this very Pass tells us all we need to know!¡±


    Roars of approval now rang through the hall.


    Father Kent smiled.


    ¡°We tell you truthfully that the Horde is at our door. They are Heathers, and if they take this Pass, this land, they will spill into the east as a plague on our peoples!¡±


    More roars of approval.


    Harin knew what was coming next. The call for arms.


    ¡°Brothers and Sisters of the east! I ask you now, will you answer the Church¡¯s call, Zufiers call to break this demon from the west?¡± Kent shouted.


    ¡°For the East!¡± A shout came from the back of the room.


    ¡°For the East! For the East! For the East!¡±


    The chant filled the hall, bouncing off the stone walls. On the chant went as the smile on Father Kent¡¯s face widened.


    Harin looked to the man in chains between the two guards of the Council. He met Harin¡¯s gaze, a deep hatred in his eyes. Harin blinked, and found he could not match the man¡¯s gaze. Looking back around him, he could see fear on his sister¡¯s face. One he¡¯d not seen in many years.


    They were going to war. This time, the south was with them.


    ¡ª--


    Harin tipped his cup back, letting the spirits burn their way down into his stomach.


    ¡°Another!¡± He called to the Innkeeper.


    The Inn was full, soldiers celebrating the news of the coming war. Of their impending death. Anastasia and Brago had tried to steer him clear, but he needed to think before he returned to his men and their camp to the east. The men were happy to have purpose Harin thought. A goal, a mission. Destroy the heretics.


    ¡°Can we not challenge the call to war?¡± Brago asked.


    Ansi Taisa laughed, burying her face in a drink.


    ¡°No. The Compact was clear. The members of the Council voted for what they thought best. They used the church to stir up the masses, paying off those they couldn¡¯t convince. Those from Lugdon are still starving since their fields were salted. They would take anything they were offered to support this farce, They need not vote the nations, they know they will win,¡±


    ¡°The roar of the crowd, that is all the vote they need,¡± Anastasia said.


    Brago pursed his lips.


    Harin rubbed at his temples. He¡¯d come to the Pass to placate the Council. They wanted leverage on Landor. He knew he risked his legions. But now? Now he was being pushed into a battle he did not want to fight. His nation was still weak from the wars, as were most of the eastern kingdoms.


    What did the Council want? War was always a means to something else. Killing and battle was only part of why nations fought wars, his grandfather, the was in the south taught him that.


    ¡°King Harin, thank you for joining us tonight,¡± Councilman Jard said, sitting at the end of the table.


    Harin groaned inwardly. He was trying to escape the bastards from the Council, and here one was. He must have followed them from the Councils Chambers in the center of the Skellen Pass. The taste of the ale turned to ash in his mouth.


    ¡°Jard, what are you doing here?¡± Anastasia asked flatly.


    Jard looked over, his eyebrows raised. ¡°My dear princes, what ever are you doing out with the army?¡±


    Anastasia smirked. ¡°I guess I just lost track of my cooking and ended up in the armies train. Odd really,¡±


    Jard¡¯s mouth twitched. He reached for a glass of watered wine from the center of the table.


    Anastasia met his gaze without looking away.


    ¡°Councilman Jard, what do we owe the pleasure of your company to?¡± Harin asked.


    Jard tore his eyes away from Anastasia. Hair could see the man re-compose himself. The fake smile slipping back into place on his pudgy face.


    ¡°My lord Harin, thank you for asking,¡± Jard waved around. ¡°The Council has discussed it and we would like to bestow a great honor on the Legions of Landor,¡±


    Harin raised an eyebrow to Jard.


    ¡°We ask that Landor serve as the Vanguard to our host against the Horde,¡± Jard smiled, splaying his fingers in offer to Harin.


    ¡ª--


    ¡°We haven''t been here a week and we¡¯ve been asked to march out of the damned gates? No army has done that in this generation!¡± Anastasia shouted, throwing her hands in the air.


    Harin grimaced, looking around the crowded street they traveled on in the main thoroughfare of the Skellen Pass. Mothers pulled their children across the way as Harin and Anastasia approached. She had outwardly soured the moment Jard had sat at their table. Harin had worried that she would attack him.


    ¡°It¡¯s an honor to serve as the vanguard for the Compact¡¯s army,¡± Brago said, looking to Harin.


    ¡°No Brago, it¡¯s our warrant for death. The Iron Guard will smash us like grapes for wine in the desert,¡± Harin said, exhaling.


    ¡°No one has fought a true war against the Horde in our generation. No one. The Council has damned us to death,¡± Anastasia finished Harin¡¯s thoughts.

 Chapter 16

    ¡°He killed 60 in the village beside the Church!¡± Father Kent shouted.


    Harin bit back a retort. Reports from Landor, another dispatch had explained that Dragh had killed a group of soldiers, a local garrison around the church. His grandfather had taught him, all men that stepped onto the field of battle were on it. No matter if you were man or woman. The end of the line was death.


    ¡°He must be reined in!¡± Kent said.


    Harin sat in a leather camp chair, his back sore from a long day of preparation in the camps of Landor. He¡¯d overseen the packing of supplies, the purchase of new ones, signing bill after bill to seducer enough food and  supplies for the campaign ahead. He¡¯d yet to tell his men where they were going, that would come when the Legion¡¯s assembled.


    ¡°You people haunt me,¡± Harin muttered.


    A bead of sweat at his brow beaded and fell from his face to the ground he leaned over.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Kent snapped.


    Harin ran a hand through his hair, then looked at Kent. ¡°You have naught but accusations, I will see to the truth of them, as is my right as a King,¡±


    Kent shook his head. ¡°This is a church matter, you must act with speed my liege,¡±


    ¡°This is a matter between a general and the king. You would be wise to know your place, Father,¡± Harin sat straight up, looking down at the shorter man.


    ¡°It is a matter for a son, and might I remind you that we have financed this campaign?¡±


    Harin stood, pointing at the churchman as he did. ¡°If you speak that was again, I will have my Praetorians physically remove you from my camp, understand?¡±


    Father Kent gulped.


    ¡°Good,¡± Harin turned and walked to the small table in the center of his command tent. He poured himself a glass of water and sipped at it.


    Father Kent licked hip lips watching Harin.


    Harin finished the glass of water, putting it back down beside the clay water jug.


    ¡°I will deal with my general, with the accusations in my own time Father Kent,¡±


    Kent fidgeted with his hands in front of himself, his neck reddening.


    ¡°If that is all, you can leave Father Kent,¡± Harin pointed to the tent flap.


    Beyond the tent, Harin could see the outline of his Praetorian at the tent flap, dark shapes against the white tents fabric. The sun still beat down on the earth. Harin was thankful for the shade.


    Kent continued to turn red, the rouge moving up his neck and into his face.


    ¡°My Liege?¡± Brago asked from beyond the tent flap.


    ¡°Aye, Brago?¡± Harin called.


    Harin moved to the tent flap and held it open for the churchman, allowing for Brago to enter the tent.


    Kent eyed the Praetorian suspiciously, looking back and forth between the two men before exiting the tent.


    Harin sighed when the man left his tent.


    ¡°My liege.¡±


    Harin held up a finger to his mouth, silencing the Praetorian. He walked over to the jug of water and poured two cups in silence, offering one to Brago.


    Brago nodded his thanks, downing the glass. His face was covered in sweat, a hard days labour in the sun.


    ¡°Dragh has burned a church. The bloody Council wants his head,¡± Harin slumped into a chair and motioned for Brago to do the same.


    The Praetorian looked uncomfortable, but sat across from Harin.


    Harin sipped on his water, savoring the cool drink. The day had been hot, even for him as he planned out their campaign.


    ¡°What will you do?¡± Brago asked, fidgeting with his cup.


    Harin shook his head. ¡°I do not yet know, I need to speak with Anastasia. I need to see what her people know. My father does not do anything without purpose. He is a General, and a Sunborn. He may not have wanted the crown, but he was destined for greatness. I need to understand why he did what he did,¡±


    Brago glanced at Harin, and then back to his cup. He drank from it, clearing his throat.


    Harin raised and eyebrow, waiting for Brago to look back up. ¡°Speak, praetorian. I need not a log to sit there and keep me company,¡±


    Brago turned red, his face flushing. ¡°I - I do not know him well, but your father would only do such a thing if the church was involved, or he thought them an enemy of the Sunborn or Landor,¡±


    Harin smiled. ¡°Find my sister, I need to know what she knows. Where my father marches to next, who he attacks, everything,¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Brago stood. ¡°Your sister? The princess? Why me?¡±


    Harin stood, taking a step forward and putting his hand on Brago¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Take your time, Brago, I will be fine here, find her, tell her what I need,¡±


    Brago turned a fiercer shade of red, nodding to Harin before backing up to exit the tent. He bowed, his mouth fumbling for words.


    Harin chucked to himself, knowing what the clumsy Praetorian was stumbling over. He¡¯d suspected, now he knew. His sister deserved to be happy, he was a good man.


    Chapter 17


    ¡°We march to the West, men of Landor.¡± Dragh shouted out at the assembled Legions.


    The Dragon Legion and the Third Legion were both at the parade grounds between the two camps they¡¯d erected after the death of Fabien and Lucille Sunborn. The two camps were set apart from the city limits of Galeth in the southern nations.


    The dawn sun was struggling over the top of the horizon, a blaze of pink and red and orange lit the sky ahead of the sun. Days like today made Dragh believe in the gods. Beauty such as this could not be some random thing.


    ¡°The Dragon has been raised, and we have raised our enemies in the south!¡±


    A cry rose up from the Legions. ¡°Aroo!¡±


    Dragh had marched them south, under protest of the Council and his own son, the King. He had raised the Dragon, decreeing death for the men that opposed him and his family. Little did he know that it was the Council itself and the church.


    The letters from Father Kent had damned the Council and the church. The news from Harin that he¡¯d marched west in his place had delt a blow he wasn¡¯t prepared for. He knew that someone would take his place, Marius of the Fourth or Westline of the Tenth Legions. But his own son? He¡¯d never dreamed of it.


    He could sense the Council¡¯s hand at play here.


    ¡°Now we march to defend our nation! Our King!¡± Dragh shouted.


    ¡°Aroo! Aroo!¡± the men of the legions answered.


    ¡°We march North! To victory against our enemies!¡±


    The men shouted out again, their formation perfect in the morning sun as the light glinted off the raised spears and steel helms of the martial men. Dragh could feed the pride in his breast. He¡¯d worked hard these many years to build up The Dragon Legion, to build up Landor¡¯s armies into a weapon that the other nations would fear.


    Dragh had to march north, he had to get to Harin. His son must know that he was at risk, that his enemies were all about him. They¡¯d set the match, Dragh and Harin were simply playing their game. He needed to know, now more than ever, why? What was the hate between the Council and the Sunborn that was so deep that they wanted to destroy them?


    Dragh watched the Legions file out, men marched in their squads, fifty men each. Eight or more squads in a Legion. His was full to the brim, with over twelve squads, The Dragon Legion had well over five thousand men.


    Dragh breathed deeply, closing his eyes. He could smell the ocean, salt on the air. They were still inland from the water, but this close, the breeze would bring it¡¯s smell to your nose. He knew it would be a long time before he might smell it again. A long time before he would see it. It was weeks of marching for the men, weeks to get to the Car Lauch where they could cross.


    His Legate and General Quintus had gathered, waiting for him to address them.


    ¡°I need to go, I will meet you in at the base of Cornforth¡¯s Pass, just south of Skellen Pass where the mountains thin,¡± Dragh said to his Legates and General Quintus.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Cinforths Pass? Why can¡¯t we go through the Skellen Pass?¡±


    The outrage was immediate and loud in the small group of gathered men. Cinforths Pass was the main route through the Car Lauch Mountains before the Skellen Pass was built. Many moons ago it had been used by all who chose to move from west to east and east to west over the Car Lauch. But only in the summer months.


    It was fall now.


    To go through Cinforths Pass  meant death for many. It was cold and inhospitable. The Skellen Pass was the only safe way to cross the mountains, to ensure that


    Dragh needed men and information. More than he had now. He needed to understand why the Council was out to kill his line. To end the Sunborns. His father had always told him that information was real power. Not just the blade that he held.


    ¡°I will collect the Sixth and the Eighth Legions, we need their numbers if we are to stand any chance at defending ourselves in the coming war,¡± Dragh said to them.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t we go through the Pass? Why must we cross the mountains? It can¡¯t be done Dragh,¡± Quintus asked.


    Dragh felt his face tighten. He must be honest with his men. Now was the time that he needed them most. If he was to face the Council and the Horde, he must have his men with him. Without doubt between them.


    ¡°It can be done. We are the Dragon Legion, we train in the Car Lauch, the cold done not frighten us. We will do it men,¡±


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t been done in a generation, for good reason!¡± A young Legate spoke up in the small group assembled.


    Dragh glared at the young man who shrunk back. ¡°The Council has called for our death, men. They use assassins, the Alamata. Hire through the Church, through their intermediaries, they killed my son and wife. And they plan to cut us off at the head by killing my son.¡±


    ¡°But he marches west with them, how do they plan to kill him?¡± Pello asked.


    Dragh nodded. ¡°Indeed. And when they least expect it, they will be betrayed. By the other nations, the Council or some other agent.¡±


    ¡°Why do you need to leave?¡± Quintus asked again.


    Dragh looked up at the sun, letting the heat hit his face for a moment before looking back at his men. ¡°I need information. I need to know why the Council wants us dead. I sent a spy into their ranks, and Hemmelle to the north to find out what they could. I believe that there is something larger at play here, something that we know not of. A game is being played behind the scenes and we need to know the rules,¡±


    ¡°General, if you don¡¯t make it to Cinforths Pass, we could be stuck as winter hits the Car Lauch,¡± Pello said.


    ¡°Aye, and if I don¡¯t collect two more legions, we will not be able to defend ourselves if we are attacked,¡± Dragh explained.


    ¡°That means Eris and Marius will have to be in the same province as one another. We shall see how that goes,¡± Quintus said.


    Dragh grimaced. ¡°If they cannot put aside their differences they could be the fall of Landor,¡±


    The men around him were quiet. Their eyes all on Dragh.


    ¡°Move 0ut men of Landor.¡±


    ¡°Hic Sunt Dracones.¡± The men saluted.


    ¡°Hic Sunt Dracones!¡± Dragh returned their war cry.


    ¡ª--


    Dragh let the Legions pass him, working his way back from his men. He walked his horse, leading it by the reins. Men saluted him as he passed, calling out to him. He answered most by name. Knowing his men was his first priority. Knowing a man in a legion, where he was supposed to be faceless was worth it¡¯s weigh in gold.


    His horse, Norm had been with him for ten years, long enough to have collected many scars on his body. He was a chestnut mountain horse with four white socks and blaze on his forehead,  bred to be large and angry with all but Dragh.


    The Legions had passed after a time, the sun now high in the sky.


    The smoke of the burning camps wafted towards them. They left no camps behind them for their enemies to occupy when they marched. Sometimes they burned them to urge the men onward, to force their hands.


    The baggage train was passing by him now. Carriages and beasts of burden moving slower than the marching men. All Generals knew that an army marched as far as their stomachs would allow. If you did not feed them, they would not fight.


    ¡°General,¡± A hand went up from the other side of a squat heavy cart pulled by two oxen.


    ¡°Ahh, Ludden, how are you?¡± Dragh waved back.


    The burly blacksmith moved around the cart to walk beside Dragh.


    Dragh nodded, turning his horse to walk with the big man.


    Dragh was not used to being dwarfed by man men, but Ludden was a man made at the anvil of the gods themselves. He¡¯d been with the Dragon Legion since he was a boy. Dragh had found him at the gates of the camp one day. All he¡¯d had was a leather roll of tools and his hammer. Soot had stained his clothes, ash smudged his skinny cheeks. He¡¯d been the Legion¡¯s Master Blacksmith since. No smith in Landor could craft the blades, spears and weapons of war like this man. He had an army of junior smiths working for him now.


    But, he also had another job.


    ¡°I need a message passed on to Anastasia,¡± Dragh said, looking ahead.


    Ludden sighed, rubbing at his forehead.


    Dragh noticed that he¡¯d begun to lose hair in the last year, but said nothing.


    ¡°And you cannot send it yourself General?¡±


    ¡°It cannot be trusted to the messengers. We are beset by our enemies Ludden. It needs to be secret, safe,¡± Dragh said.


    Ludden scrunched his nose.


    ¡°What is it Ludden?¡±


    Ludden looked to Dragh and then back at his oxen, swishing the small whip he had at it¡¯s rump. A light touch. ¡°She¡¯s not in Landor, General.¡±


    Dragh stopped in his tracks. ¡°What!¡±


    Ludden put his hand on Dragh¡¯s shoulder, pulling him forward. ¡°Easy General,¡±


    Dragh tried to relax, but he felt anger bubble in his gut. His shoulders were rigid, his neck strained. ¡°Where the pit is she?¡±


    Ludden passed Dragh a small square of paper, folded over many times.


    Dragh looked at the paper before unfolding it. ¡°Bennje,¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡±


    Harin and Anastasia move with the Praetorian and Fourth, west with the Church to Skellen.


    ¡°Gods. Both of them, Dragh murmured.


    ¡®Sorry General, I would have come to you this morning, but I could not risk it,¡±


    Dragh nodded. ¡°You did your job Ludden, do not fret,¡±


    Dragh knew that the job of a spy was not easy. Ludden had the perfect cover. A Master Blacksmith would never be suspected of being a spy, yet he could talk with Dragh without the army suspecting anything.


    ¡°I need to get a message to Anastasia, through the Pass.¡± Dragh said.


    ¡°I can send a bird, they will be faster,¡± Ludden said.


    ¡°I thought they¡¯d been killed off in the wars in the south,¡± Dragh said, surprised.


    ¡°Your daughter has been raising them in the northern quarter of Landor and a couple of other spots that Bennje has been able to find.¡± Ludden chuckled. ¡°She and her people guard them like a secret of the state, she gave mw two before we marched. Surprised the pit out of me General,¡±


    Dragh considered this new information. It meant he could tell her anything.


    ¡°Tell her that the Council and the Church hired the Alamata to kill Fabien and Lucille. Tell her that they are going to come for all of us. Tell her to convince her brother not to march out of Skellen. It¡¯s a trap,¡±


    Ludden scribbled on a small piece of paper that he¡¯d pulled from his vest. He snaked the charcoal back into his vest and folded the message up into a small square like the one he¡¯d given to Dragh. ¡°It will be done tonight, under the cover of darkness,¡±


    Dragh thanked the blacksmith, pulling away and letting the rest of the Legion¡¯s baggage train pass him by.


    He had much to think on. But next, he had to face his fears, face the nightmares of his youth. He had to return to Landor. Return to the agony of his younger years.

 Chapter 18

    ¡°Open the gates!¡± A solider at the gates of Skellen Pass called out.


    ¡°Will the men march west for me, men and women of Landor?¡± Harin shouted over the gathered Legions. The Fourth and the Pretorians.


    ¡°Men and women Landor! Your king calls for your allegiance!¡± Brago called out from atop his horse beside Harin.


    The arrayed Legions were just inside the western gates of the Skellen Pass, gathered, waiting for the doors to be opened to release them into war. For generations, the Sunborns had asked for their armies¡¯ oaths. Harin wanted this war to be no different. He had no choice but to fight the Council¡¯s war, but he needed his people. His warriors.


    The legions knelt, their hands on their hearts.


    ¡°By Our Blood


    We Honor You


    Till Death Hold Us


    Our King¡±


    The men and women around Harin recited the pledge that had been spoken to the Landorian rulers for generations.


    Harin felt a wave of relief. Each time he asked for the oath, he worried that they would refuse him, mutiny. He knew it an insane belief, but he worried over it. Kings had lost their people in such ways. But he knew that given the choice, a man or women who chose to fight for him, they would fight to the Pit and back for him. One who was forced would fold like a straw man.


    The Legions began to march. Harin saluted those who passed him, his arm across his chest, fist closed. Many nodded to him as they passed.


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    ¡ª--


    ¡°Tell me we have enough,¡± Harin said, his throat parched.


    ¡°Aye, if the men take it easy,¡± The Quartermaster said, gesturing with his hands.


    Harin put his hand up. ¡°Easy, quiet, lets the army hears,¡±


    The Quartermaster was a stout man, balding and overweight. His cheeks jiggled as he gestured.


    Harin¡¯s grandfather had always told him, never trust a thein Quartermaster. If they couldn¡¯t find themselves a couple of extra rations to eat, they were not very good at their jobs.  You always wanted a scrappy one, a man who could find a deal in a desert.


    ¡°How long can we last at our current supply?¡± Harin asked carefully.


    The Quartermaster, Len sighed. ¡°We have enough livestock to last at least a month, water is the real concern, just before grain,¡±


    Harin waited, looking ahead, thinking through the campaign and what was to come.


    ¡°We are going into a desert, we cannot afford to run out of water,¡±


    ¡°The merchants tell me that there are enough watering holes to the west that we should be fine. They did however warn me that they seep, all of them,¡±


    ¡°Pit,¡±


    ¡°Indeed, the legions will drain them dry and ruin the wells, you have to pull from them slowly,¡±


    Harin said nothing, angry at the circumstances. ¡°I told you to buy more wagons, we need to have a wagon every other day, I need more barrels of water,¡± Harin wiped at his brow. They were still within sight of the Pass, not even a leg into their journey and he was sweating. Soon, the arid desert would swallow them up.


    And then the Horde would come. They would wait to have them strung out, hot, weak from dehydration. They¡¯d swoop in like vultures to finish the kills.


    ¡°The Pass was not kind to us. I tell you that I would have had to steal from them to have gotten anything more than I had. We did not bring these sorts of supplies, we only brought what we needed to make it through a season or two at the Pass, not out here,¡± Len waved about at the sun and the plains before them to the west.


    ¡°I know, I understand,¡± Harin rubbed at his face.


    ¡°The Church, they gave us enough to survive, but we do not have the gold to buy more. The prices were robbery,¡±


    Harin sighed, looking at the Quartermaster. ¡°Spread the word, we are on rations from here on out. One canteen each a day, one a night until we resupply,¡±


    ¡°Already?¡± Len asked, surprise in his voice.


    ¡°I need my army to feel the bite of thirst now, so that I do not have a mutiny when we are in the open desert. They need to adapt on the march,¡±


    Len looked at Harin, his face betraying him.


    ¡°Spread the work, I¡¯ll hang anyone who steals a canteen,¡±


    Len¡¯s mouth hung open.


    Harin nodded. ¡°They will hang if they take what is not theirs, this army will survive,¡±


    Len muttered, looking away.


    ¡°I may be the Ink King, but I do not lie. Make it know, Quartermaster,¡± Harin said, squeezing his horse with his thighs, moving on from the conversation and up the line of his Legions.


    Whispers followed him up the Legions lines. By the time he¡¯d made it up to the head of the column to rejoin Brago, his Praetorian Legate knew of the threat he¡¯d made.


    Harin felt the weight of the crown, while it rested in Landor, he held that weight on his shoulders.

 Chapter 19

    Dragh knelt in the muck, putting his hand out to the old woman.


    She looked up at Dragh with fear in her eyes. Dragh had dressed himself in simple clothes, a tunic, leather leggings and riding boots that he¡¯d packed in his saddle bags. He could not afford to look like a General or a Sunborn now. Dragh couldn¡¯t have his enemies know what he was doing, that he was not at the head of The Dragon Legion. The armies of Landor.


    The old lady looked to his sword and dagger sheathed on his belt and then back to his hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± He assured the old lady, pushing his hood back.


    Her eyes softened, seeing Dragh¡¯s face. She accepted his hand, pulling with a shaky arm. Dragh stood in the line of men and women seeking to gain access to Landor through the eastern gates. Most of them simple travelers, some with carriages and servants hanging from the sides. They all waited, inspections by the watch guard required before entering.


    The line shuffled forward.


    Landor was a walled city with gates on all four side. The southern gate was it¡¯s largest, the western gate second largest. The north and east gate were smaller. All of them were built of oak and iron, seasoned for hundreds of years, they were split and gray. They were gouged and beaten, but never broken.


    The smaller gate in the east had a lesser compliment of men, especially around supper time. He was counting on his men, the men of the army of Landor to be less vigilant this time of day. He knew it was ironic, considering he should flog them if he could sneak into his own city. But the reality of thousands of people was that none could guarantee security. Each man had to be ready to defend themselves.


    It only the people really knew how close they were to danger, every day. The walls, the guards, all were a facade of safety. But all would sacrifice their lives for their people.


    The old lady wiped at the muck; tears welled at the corner of her eyes. ¡°Thank you -.¡±


    ¡°Kallen,¡± Dragh offered, the name of his dead father.


    The old lady smiled. ¡°Your Ma and Pa named you after the old king? Bless them and bless you,¡±


    Dragh laughed. ¡°I suspect that they would be disappointed in me, have not lived up to a kings name,¡±


    The old lady tutted and moved ahead, one step and then a half step. Dragh followed.


    ¡°Soka, we all have our burdens, thank the gods that you aren¡¯t with those poor sods moving west. I hear that the Legions are moving out to meet the horde again. Been attacking decent folk out west,¡±


    Dragh felt his smile disappear. He would be one of them, and his son and daughter were currently out there alone, surrounded by foe. He said nothing, the old lady took his silence as an invitation to speak.


    ¡°My boy and my man died in the Dragon Legion. He was so proud he got into the same unit as his Pa. He was bragging to me the day he signed up. They took me, they took me. He kept saying, sporting his sword and crested cloak around. He lasted a year, his Pa not long after that, died in the wars in the south. So, count your lucky stars that you are here,¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Dragh asked, surprising himself.


    ¡°They never told me. Just got a letter that he was killed,¡±


    Dragh felt the last words like a punch to the face.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry they are gone, they are supposed to tell the families what happened to their loved ones,¡±


    Dragh stumbled through the words. He had faced many widows, many grieving mothers and fathers in his life. But they were always ate distance. He was of course the General. Not just a general, but a Sunborn as well. They¡¯d cry, they¡¯d grieve, but he always told them the truth.


    The line moved again, Dragh and the lady stepped forward.


    ¡°Soka dear. It¡¯s not your fault,¡± The old lady patted him on the shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s that bloody General they got terrorizing the south I hear. His son ought to stop him, he seems the right sort. You know they call his father mad? They call in the General of Death,¡±


    Dragh felt the anger rising in him, the General of Death. He¡¯d never heard it before. He couldn¡¯t believe that they called him that. The very people he¡¯d spent his life defending.


    He wanted to tell her he¡¯d find out what happened to them, that he was sorry for her loss. The line moved ahead, saving Dragh from an awkward moment. He was not sure what to say next. He cursed himself. These men had signed up to serve. And he¡¯d not made sure that their families knew how they died. Why they¡¯d died.


    ¡°What is your name?¡± Dragh asked.


    They shuffled forward, another step, a half step.


    ¡°Names Rosa Valera. From the street of cloth, the big red brick building on the corner,¡± Rosa said, a smile on her face.


    Dragh dipped his head in thanks.


    ¡°Mam, please come forward,¡± A tall guard on the left called to Rosa.


    Dragh was thankful and sad to meet Rosa, making a mental note to find out about her son and husband. He always tried to keep relatives out of one Legion, some days it could save entire bloodlines.


    Dragh hobbled forward, faking a slight limp as Rosa walked into the city and past the guards.


    The tall guard on the left waved him forward again. He nodded to the guard across the gate who stepped across to hem in Dragh, give him less space to move.


    Dragh would have been impressed, but wished he¡¯d pulled simpler guards. These men were sharp.


    ¡°What¡¯s your business in Landor?¡± The tall one asked, a slight lisp to his speech.


    Dragh kept his eyes averted, not making eye contact, he kicked at the dirt. ¡°Trying to find some work is all,¡±


    The shorter guard from the right of the gate put his hand on Dragh¡¯s shoulder and leaned in. ¡°You looking for blade work? What are those for? You served?¡±


    ¡°Spent a few years in the Fourth, served under Marius,¡± Dragh said.


    ¡°Gavin, this one served under Marius, didn¡¯t you serve under him in the south?¡± The smaller man said.


    The tall man nodded. ¡°Aye, whose squad did you serve in old one?¡±


    Dragh cursed his mistake. He knew Generals. His own Legates, but he didn¡¯t know the Fourth¡¯s. He was going to have to say something, but what would get these men to let him into Landor? He didn¡¯t want to have to pull rank, not after he¡¯d tried to hide his identity. The Council had spies everywhere, these two might be spies for all he knew.


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    ¡°I Dunno his name, was a fat one, couldn¡¯t run the length of a camp,¡± Dragh said, making it up as he talked.


    The tall guard laughed aloud, slapping his knee as he bent over.


    Dragh tensed.


    ¡°That fat one was Renau, the weaver. I remember him. The only place he run was to the bakers,¡± The tall guard said, laughing as he did.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be using them things in the city, you hear me old one?¡± The man on the right said, waving him through.


    ¡°Many thanks¡¯ men. Many thanks,¡± Dragh nodded to each man and hobbled into Landor. Fear touched him now. He knew where he had to go, but didn¡¯t know if he had the strength for it. He needed something, something he¡¯d only heard a rumor of. Something that he wasn¡¯t sure existed except for a comment from his father, many years before.


    ¡ª--


    ¡°You,¡±


    The words were spoken simply, quietly by the old man, more a question than a statement.


    There was a place in the south of Landor that Dragh had avoided since he was a child. A place where he had memories of pain and frustration. A place that more than anywhere else he did not want to be.


    ¡°Yes old man, I have returned,¡± Dragh said with as much hate in his voice he could muster. He breathed in through his nose, sharply. He felt a tremor in his hand.


    The old man was clothed in a long brown robe. A simple rope around his waist. The garb of a man of the gods. His whisps of white hair stood at odd angles from his head, as if trying to escape him.


    The old man smiled, his teeth rotted.


    Dragh cringed at the sweet stink of his breath, the smell bringing him back to his childhood. He had to resist lashing out at the priest of Sazaal, god of knowledge. He took an involuntary step back.


    ¡°Your father told me that one day you would return. But I knew, I knew you¡¯d return. When you had learned that knowledge is more valuable than the blade,¡±


    Dragh cracked his knuckles. Clenching and unclenching his hands. He could still feel the pain in his hands from his childhood, from learning. ¡°Show me what we have of our histories from before the Cleansing,¡±


    The old man smiled again, this time a wicked smile. ¡°You have finally asked the right question Dragh. I taught you well it seems, I did not have hope, but I always surprised by some of my former students, even if you didn¡¯t last the year,¡±


    ¡°Show me what we have on the Council, The Cleansing,¡± Dragh ordered the old man. Dragh felt the blood rush to his face. He tool a half step forward, his hand finding the handle of Drago, his bowie knife. Sweat beaded at his back, but he was cold.


    The old man raised and eyebrow, leaning away from Dragh.


    ¡°You know, I found out today that the people of Landor have a name for me, a name that was not given by my father and mother, but by the very people I serve. They call me the General of Death,¡± Dragh said.


    The old man nodded furrowing his eyebrows at Dragh as if to ask a question.


    ¡°I¡¯ve burned down two buildings recently, and I¡¯m beginning to enjoy it. Show me what we have in the Sunborn Archive. Show me right now or I will live up to my name and burn this palace down with you in it old man,¡± Dragh said quietly.


    The old man¡¯s eye narrowed. He inhaled sharply.


    They stared at each other, a battle of the wills, and not for the first time in Dragh¡¯s life. He felt the cold stone seats on his back, the lashes, the shouting and hitting. He could feel the shame in his heart when he had to tell his father he¡¯d quit. His time with the Library at a close.


    That was a day he would never forget. Disappointment had been etched into his fathers face, his eyes soft with sadness. Dragh had faced death and betrayal in his long life of soldiery. He¡¯d faced his own uncle trying to kill him. He realized in this moment that the old man had no power over him now. He was the master of his own fate.


    He smiled at the master of books then. A real smile.


    The old man¡¯s stare faltered, he looked away, turning and walking into the heart of the library.


    Dragh looked down at the man¡¯s hands, gnarled and old. He remembered the beatings he¡¯d taken by the old man¡¯s hands. He resisted the urge to pull out Drago, his bowie knife and cut his hands off.


    The library was located to the south of the castle. It was built of the same stone as the castle, quarried from the mountains of the Car Lauch. A hard granite that was cut into stones taller than a man. It was laid out in four rows of shelves, more than forty rows across the large open building. Each shelf contained hundreds of books and scrolls. They were all organized by subjects and centuries. In the center of the rows were the study tables. All of them long oak tables, dark with age. The seats carved of stone, rising out of the floor, cut into the very stone that was laid in building the place.


    The old man swept down the main aisleway, two sets of rows on either side of them. Light spilled in from the upper windows. Dragh could smell the musty smell of books that he¡¯d known as a child in this place.


    Dragh followed the old man, noticing the limp he had in his left leg. One he¡¯d tried to hide. He laughed at himself. He¡¯d feared this old man for most of his life. His sharp tongue, and the way he¡¯d treated Dragh as a child.


    ¡°It will require the key. I assume that you still have it?¡± The old man asked, walking straight through the rows of tables in the center of the library.


    ¡°Aye,¡± Dragh said.


    They walked with purpose to the back of the library, it¡¯s only additional room one for the master of the library to stay in.


    Dragh went through the back door with the old man, laughing as he did.


    ¡°What do you find amusing?¡± The old man asked, closing his door.


    Dragh shook his head. ¡°I was just in a room like this, a place like this with another false priest who claimed he had answers,¡±


    ¡°And what of him?¡±


    Dragh looked the old man in the eyes. ¡°He met his god,¡±


    Silence filled the room.


    Dragh took in the space. Simple and cold compared to the opulence of the Church of Zufier he¡¯d burned. There was one more door inside of the master¡¯s room. It was smaller than the first, but different. It was made up of black iron, not wood. It was coated in an oil that made it almost wet.


    Dragh put his hand on his chest, feeling for the key that hung under his shirt. He fished it out and approached the door.


    ¡°Two to the left, four to the right,¡± The old man recited.


    Dragh found the small opening for the key in the center of the door. He inserted the key and followed the old man¡¯s instructions.


    Two clicks, then four, then a dull scraping noise started on the other side of the door.


    Dragh stepped back and looked to the old master.


    The old man shrugged. ¡°Your father did not explain the mystery of this place to me. I only know the instructions that have been passed to the master of this place for generations. We are the keepers Dragh. Nothing more.


    Dragh pushed at the door. The door gave way easily, sliding without a sound. It moved inward, swinging open to shed light on a dark room.


    The smell of burnt leaf, ink and old paper hit Dragh like a hammer. It was his fathers scent. The scent that had colored his childhood. Kallen¡¯s study had smelled of burnt leaf, a habit he¡¯d picked up later in life.


    ¡°The records begin with you forefather, Ren Sunborn,¡± The old man quipped.


    Dragh felt his blood boil.


    ¡°I do not need you anymore old man, be gone!¡± Dragh roared.


    The old man cowered.


    Dragh turned, pulled one of the master¡¯s oil lanterns off his wall and walked back into the study. When he looked back from inside, the master had disappeared from his view. He laughed again. The old man had haunted the memories of his childhood, and now he disappeared from sight.


    Turning back to the Archive he shone the lantern¡¯s light across the room.


    The room had a high ceiling, the same stone of the Car Lauch, cold and familiar rose up in an intricate spiral. Whoever had made this room had taken care to hide it, but had also made it a work of art. The stones swirled like the winds and turned it around it¡¯s top, making a beautiful sweeping ceiling.


    It was an open space, it¡¯s walls covered in shelves instead of rows of them like the library. Dragh walked around the edges, running his hand over the smooth shelves. The wood was light with dark spots, a fine finish on it of wax or oil. He pulled his hand away and rubbed his thumb over his forefinger.


    ¡°Huh,¡±


    Even after all of the years since someone had worked here, they were still lightly oiled. Each shelf had a name or places. Some he¡¯d heard of. The tribes of the Sinovi. Black cloaked and martial. Each man and women a terror with the blade. Ralarian Islands, the home of the best sailors in the world, south of the continent, a collection of islands spread across the sea. Some called them pirates. Dragh knew better, thinking of the old captain from his youth that had helped him escape certain death in the north. El Alera. Jevin, The Horde, The Council and more.


    He could smell the dust on the old books, but the floor was clean. Someone cared for this place.


    Dragh walked over to the small desk and sorted through the paper strewn across it. He sat down, putting his hands on the desk and letting out a deep breath. His father had sat here. Before he died, before he¡¯d passed on Dawnbringer to Dragh¡¯s son, Harin, passing the crown on to him.


    Dragh picked up the pipe that lay in a clay cup with ash in it. He breathed in, smelling the dried leaf that his father had smoked. A tear came unbidden to his eye. He breathed through his nose and clamped his eyes closed. He missed his father.


    ¡°You have work to do Dragh,¡± he chided himself out of his memories.


    Pushing the chair back he walked over to the row of books where he¡¯d seen the name Ren. The last emperor.


    He¡¯d been taught of Ren, the last emperor before The Cleansing, but did not know of the histories before.


    He took the tomb, covered in dry cracked leather and put it in front of him on the desk.


    The empire was something that all knew of, broken up by the Cleansing, the Council had given the nations back to the Kings of old. He¡¯d been told that his family had been given Landor back after it had been taken from them. That the Sunborn should be thankful for it.


    He read through the first pages of the book, scanning the content. It seemed like a journal of sorts. Entries of a life, explaining the state of the world through the eyes of the man writing it.


    Simple things, who he was thankful to in his life, who¡¯d taught him humility and morality in his life. Next came discussion of the empire. The makeup of the place that Ren ruled. He ascended to the throne through his bloodline. The Sunborn bloodline.


    Dragh sat back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. He read the passage, again and again.


    The blood that runs through my veins the stuff that gives me life gave me the throne. The blood of the Sunborn, my line gave us the throne of empire, by assent from the gods themselves.


    How could this be? They were Kings, not Emperors. What happened ? How could the last emperor, in his own journal call himself a Sunborn? Had Dragh been lied to his whole life, did his father know of this?


    I fought to unify this place, from the tribes of our fathers and mothers to this very throne from which I rule. Those that would have taken it in my stead have allied themselves to us.


    Us? Dragh shook his head. Us? He¡¯d only know of Ren. Who was he speaking of. Part of him wanted to call for the old librarian, the priest of knowledge. The other half of him reminded himself that he¡¯d kill the old man if he saw him again. Dragh put his head back down to the page.


    The horsemen of the west, they were the last holdouts, I had to give them free passage to the east¡¯s plains to graze their horse herds. But, the north gained new bloodlines for their stock.


    Dragh leaned back. The more he learned, the more he realized he didn¡¯t know. The horde was once allied to the Sunborns. They were part of an empire. His families empire. Could he make peace with them once again? Or had The Council taken their peace when they built the Skellen Pass?


    Dragh looked around the Archive, his fathers pipe, a walking stick in the corner of gnarled drift wood, all reminders of his father. He pushed his chair back again, returning to the shelves where he¡¯d found the journal of Ren and picked up his fathers pipe.


    He held it close to his nose and inhaled.


    ¡°Cherry wood,¡± He said aloud, shocked at the vivid memories of Kallen that it brought back. His father,


    As he ran his fingers down the leather backed book spines he read. Names of kings throughout the last thousand years of Landor¡¯s histories. Hefal, Yannier, Junnis, Klef, Edwed, Danes and on the list of names went. Generation after generation. Until he got to the name he was looking for. Harin.


    Dragh¡¯s hand hurt, a memory of years gone by. He remembered the beatings when the old librarian had caught him with an old book he¡¯d not been aloud to read. As a boy he¡¯d not understood it.


    Dragh stopped, recognizing the script of his father¡¯s hand.


    Harin. He¡¯d written his own name across the spine of the journal.


    Taking it out of the shelf, Dragh was careful to treat the book gently. The book smelled of must and iron ink. The book was heavy as he lifted it, the reason for the big table in the center of the room. He set it down on the desk, his heart pounding in his chest. He licked his lips, suddenly dry. Dragh opened up the journal to the first page, his hands shaking slightly as he turned the thick cover and first page over to the right.


    Son, if you are reading this, I waited too long to tell you the truth of our bloodline.


    Dragh fell backwards into the wooden chair, his momentum pushing the legs of the chair back on the stone floor, scraping.


    Dragh shook his head. It was as if his dead father was speaking directly to him from the past.


    A sudden hunger filled Dragh. He had to know, what had his father left for him? What gift of knowledge, sharper than the edge of a blade might be hidden in these pages. He pulled himself forward and began to devour his father¡¯s journal.

 Chapter 20

    ¡°It¡¯s okay Val, I¡¯ve got him,¡± Harin waved off the women  who¡¯d moved to grab his horses reins.


    Harin slipped from the saddle and landed on the ground with a groan. It ha been a long day, all of it in the saddle. He arched his back, pushing his fist into his back as he tried to stretch the knots away.


    ¡°Sire, shall I have a hot bath repaired?¡± Brago asked.


    Harin jumped.


    ¡°Pit, Brago!¡± He chided the Praetorian. ¡°I thought you were off inspecting the camp?¡±


    ¡°Sorry sir, I finished the inspection of the Legion and sending out dispatches,¡± Brago said.


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°They are at least double,¡± Brago said, wiping sweat form his brow.


    Harin kicked at the dirt. ¡°Pit,¡±


    Brago¡¯s horse threw it¡¯s head back, Brago lightly pulled on the reins before responding. ¡°Sire, I know you said not to worry, but the men talk. They speak of it now, they do not trust our allies,¡±


    ¡°How could they be so foolish?¡±


    Brago said nothing. Harin tweaked an eyebrow at the Praetorian. ¡°Out with it,¡±


    Brago winced. ¡°Your sister thinks it no mistake. She believes that Hethan and others collude with The Council to push us ahead, slow themselves down,¡±


    Harin nodded. ¡°I thought as much too, but it would make no sense. They do not wish us dead, they just wish to be in charge,¡± Harin laughed.


    ¡°What is sire?¡± Brago asked, confused.


    Harin smiled. ¡°My father, he was right. They are already in charge, I¡¯ve marched two whole legions here to fight their war. No my friend, there is no reason so strong to leave us out here, to strand us this far out. They wouldn''t,¡±


    Horses nickered and pawed at the earth in the large picket they had set up inside the camp for their war horses. All of the cavalry''s horse were here, most already attended by the grooms and men themselves.


    ¡°I thought I told you to take the night off, we¡¯ve been marching for a week, the camp is built. I do not need a Praetorian when I am surrounded by your own,¡± Harin waved Brago off.


    Harin went back to caring for his steed. He started with a sack of grain, slipping it over his horses ears after he¡¯d finished tying to the lead that held the picket of legion horses.


    His horse pawed at the ground.


    ¡°I know, Kal. It¡¯s good. You earned it,¡± Harin scratched behind the horses ears. His horse knickered in response, munching on his grain.


    Harin pulled a brush from his saddle bags, pocketing it. He began by pulling the saddle bags off, then pushing the sweat down and out of his horses coat. He¡¯d named his horse after his grandfather, Kallen. He hoped it honored the man in a way he¡¯d wished he could with children.


    He¡¯d had his share of women in his life, some he¡¯d been with for some time, some for a short time. None of them had chosen to stick around after the southern wars. None had chosen to stick around when Landor had struggled to feed it¡¯s people.


    Harin could still feel the hunger gnawing at his belly.


    Kal lifter her head and twisted her ears back. Harin¡¯s topped brushing half way down his shoulder. ¡°What is it, Kal?¡±


    Harin looked around, the low light spreading over the backs of horses down the picket line. Some had tweaked their ears, just the same as Kal. Harin put his off hand at his side, feeling the handle of a belt dagger.


    They may call him the King of Ink. But a blade would kill him just the same.


    He shook his head. There was no way he was at risk here. He was in a camp surrounded by two legions of men. One of which was his Praetorian Legion.


    ¡°Easy Kal,¡± Harin rubbed the horses shoulder, moving down it to loosen up the dirt and sweat that had caked on his coat.


    Harin kept on brushing, fishing one side, then moving around to the other, starting at Kal¡¯s head and then moving back. He rubbed methodically, round and round, down, back, up, down, back, up. He kept at it, letting his mind wandering over the last months. The Council had what they wanted now. He doubted that they¡¯d see the Horde, let alone fight more than a few horsemen in the West. War was risk, but he doubted there was an appetite to march the distance to their cites on the far west coast for war.


    No, he thought. The Church would find their revenge in much more subtle ways. They would tell the story after some minor conflict, some conversion to the Church of Zufier in some little village that the heavens were conquered, that their mission to the god was complete.


    Kal flicked his head again, his ears now pinned back. The horse began to paw at the ground, digging in with enough force to tear up clods of earth.


    ¡°Kiever¡¯s balls, what is it,¡± Harin whispered to his horse.


    As Harin turned to look at the other horses behind him, he saw a glint of metal in the night. His heart rate increased, the glint in the evening sunlight should mean nothing, but it made his heart hammer in his chest.


    Out of instinct, he didn¡¯t call out. He ducked down between Kal and the horse he¡¯d picked beside. There should be none but the stable hands out here, and they¡¯d be speaking to the horses, soothing like Harin had been.


    It was an old trick, one that anyone who¡¯d spent much time atop a horse would know. You could speak Ralarian, Common, like most of the east, or nonsense and a horse would calm.


    Harin ducked lower, looking under Kal¡¯s belly and between his feet. He could see feet, between the horses down the line. Zigging and zagging back and forth between the picketed horses. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    There was only one reason for such movement.


    Someone was here to kill him.


    Harin took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind. He needed to think, but his heart was apt to beat out of his chest at the rate it hammered. He could feel the stress of it, his hands clammy and shaking, his mouth dry now.


    He shook his head. Now was not the time.


    ¡°Where?¡±


    Harin froze at the whisper. It had carried on the slight breeze. It was not a loud question, but it told him what he needed to know.


    Harin moved, willing his feet to be sure in the dark between the horses. He needed to get out of the picket line. But he¡¯d not risk an open sprint. If these men had brought bows, he¡¯d be dead in the open. He knew that he had to make it at least one hundred yards if he was going to live through this.


    The sun had snuffed itself out, the only real light torches and the new moon rising over them all. Far from him, Harin could hear the sound of soldiers, laughing and shouting. Content in the night. He couldn¡¯t feel further from it as he ran from these killers.


    He moved, slowly, but surely thought the horses. He made sure to approach them all face on, not from the rear, so as not to spook them. He matched his footfalls with the nickering and pawing of horses. He dared to look back, he needed to know where the assassins were.


    Four sets of feet were running towards him, between the horses. One man¡¯s face below the bellies of the horses, his hands planted on the earth, knees to the ground. He smiled, white and glowing in the darkness.


    ¡°He¡¯s north! GO!¡± The man on the ground


    Harin launched himself up, they were less than five horses behind him. He knew he had not choice now, they¡¯d come to kill a king, and he needed to survive.


    ¡°PRAETORIANS!¡± Harin shouted, bursting from the picket line and running from the five men.


    An arrow whizzed by Harin¡¯s head, the sting of the fletching¡¯s kissing his ear, Harin ducked, too late, but his mind had no say in the fight his body led. As he ducked, he heard another sound, one he¡¯d dreaded.


    Womp, womp, womp, womp.


    The weighted bolas, a rope with stone weights on either side hit Harin¡¯s legs as he¡¯d reached a dead sprint. He was digging in, pushing forward. He could see Praetorian¡¯s in front of him, their cloaks billowing behind them, their weapons raised.


    Their king had called for them.


    Harin felt dread, and pain as the bolas wrapped around his legs, cutting him down like a felled tree. He didn¡¯t register pain until his face hit the earth, the sudden fall collapsing his lungs, air pushed out of them.


    ¡°Oof,¡± was all he managed.


    Harin felt an odd moment of peace, he could see the stars in the sky twinkling down. He could see the darkness that threatened to swallow the moon, and then, he remembered what had happened. The pain, the fear, all of it returned as if he¡¯d been hit by a horse. He struggled to get back up, but to no avail. He could not suck down air, he couldn¡¯t move.


    Above him, a man appeared, sword raised high up above his head. He looked down on Harin with glee in his eyes. He was there to kill Harin.


    Harin close his eyes, unable to breathe, unable to move from the shock of the fall. He cursed the gods, trying with all his might to move, but only rolling a little to one side. His body had betrayed him. His mind in a fight of it¡¯s own with his body.


    Harin felt no pain, only the rage against who¡¯d sent these killers. He had almost made it to safety.


    Almost.


    Harin opened his eyes, tears welling as he gasped for breath. He expected to see a sword embedded in him, instead, he saw fletching¡¯s. White fletching¡¯s on the end of an arrow that had certainly been made in Landor.


    Attached to the arrow¡¯s fletching¡¯s, down the shaft, was buried half way down the shaft in the man¡¯s chest that had been looming over Harin in the night. His sword, still raised up was high in the air, his eyes on the arrows that kept coming.


    Two, three, four.


    The man fell, replaced quickly by another. Harin heard the screaming before the man appeared above him, axe held high.


    ¡°BLOOD AND HONOR!¡± Brago shouted.


    Brago sprung forward from the night, cleaving the would be assassins head from his shoulders. Brago cleaved through one arm, raised up to kill Harin with an ax, and completely through the neck of the man.


    Harin finally caught his breath, the quick moments before his death. He rolled over and pushed himself up after pulling the bolas from his legs,  sat the same time as pulling his sword from it¡¯s sheathe.


    ¡°My Liege!¡± A praetorian called from behind him.


    Cloaks billowed past him, flying behind the groups of men that ran behind Brago, their Legate.


    The Praetorian who¡¯d called for Harin was at his side, running to keep up with Harin as he ran with the Praetorians.


    The killing was merciless and fast. Each of the five men receiving their reward of death.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Harin shouted.


    The last assassin, an arrow in his upper chest was on his knees, knife and sword both dropped to the ground in front of him.


    Harin walked to the man, mere feet from where he¡¯d just been on his back. The man heaved breath, muttering in another language.


    ¡°Keep him alive, I¡¯ll speak with him after,¡±


    Brago nodded, his eyes downcast, not able to meet Harin¡¯s gave.


    Harin exhaled, his breath finally returning.


    The camp was alive with shouting and the clamouring of martial men. Legates and Primus¡¯ shouted. Men called for the squads to form. Torches blazed, newly lit beyond them and into the picket line.


    ¡°Search the camp, find all who do not belong, bring the men guarding the gates to me, I will have words with each of them,¡± Brago said.


    Four Praetorians nodded to Brago and ran to follow his commands.


    Harin looked around at the men remaining. ¡°Fern, Ube, Brago, thank you men for saving me,¡±


    An uneasy silence remained as the three men nodded to Harin. He knew then that they were all thinking of what came next.


    ¡°Wait, who among you were with the archers?¡±


    The group looked around, confused themselves as each carried swords.


    Harin looked back towards the camp from where they¡¯d come.


    A long archer approached them from the darkness.


    The Praetorians formed around Harin without a word, Brago in front of him. They flowed like water around rock in an instant.


    ¡°Lo, stranger!¡±


    The man continued to walk towards them hood over his head.


    ¡°Stop, or we will take issue!¡± Brago shouted, anger in his voice.


    Harin flinched from the spite, but rimed behind Brago, he¡¯d let his men do their duty, though he wished to face the threat himself. He¡¯d learned from his grandfather, some days you had to let the men do their jobs, it wasn''t about your ability to do them, but to let others feel able, you had to step aside.


    The man raised his arm, pulling back his sleeve.


    Even in the darkness, Harin could see the ink. Dark black ink wrapped around the man¡¯s arm. The tattoo was one that Harin had grown up seeing, one that he¡¯d wished he could have when he became a man. One he¡¯d seen on his father¡¯s arm his whole life.


    The Dragon.


    ¡°Is that you, Hemmelle?¡±


    The man threw back his hood, reaching up with his bow to salute Harin. ¡°No, my liege,¡±


    Harin took a step forward, meeting the man with an embrace. ¡°Uncle. It is good to see you,¡±


    Harin felt the embrace of home. The feeling of comfort many miles from real safety. He was five years old again, this time learning to shoot the bow and ride horseback.


    ¡°Good to see you, Geral,¡± Harin said quietly.


    Geral pulled back to look at Harin, a smile on his face.


    The older man had been in his life, with Pello, Cello and Hemmelle for as long as he could remember. Geral had taught him the horse and the bow, Cello the blade, Pello to gamble and his father to fight.


    He¡¯d never turned out good at any of them, but he¡¯d tried his hardest. He¡¯d sought desperately to please his father, his fathers friends and Legates whenever they were home from the many wars they¡¯d fought, the many patrols they¡¯d taken.


    ¡°Good to see you survived, I didn¡¯t know if you would after that bolas. Tricky bastards,¡±


    ¡°Legate Geral, how is it that you are here?¡± Brago asked.


    Gerald¡¯s blue eyes flicked back to the Praetorian.


    Harin studied the old man, his face brown from the sun, his hair graying at the temples. He was every inch the fighter that all of the Dragon Legion were. An archer and aa swordsman, he was broad of shoulder and thin of waist.


    ¡°The General sent me, here, for this,¡± Geral said, looking back to Harin.


    Harin shook his head. ¡°Even when we¡¯d spoken at the castle, before The Council had asked us to send men?¡±


    Geral smiled, a quick wink of his teeth. ¡°Aye, he knew that you¡¯d be under threat, he sent me to make sure that you had one of the Dragon here, always,¡±


    Harin nodded. ¡°We have much to discuss Geral, come,¡±


    ¡ª--


    ¡°Sire, you have my sword and my life in your hands. I will gladly give it for the disgrace that has befallen this legion, give it to me, do not leave it to the Legion to pay for my sins,¡± Brago said.


    Both Harin and Brago turned.


    ¡°I told you not to let anyone -¡± Harin stopped.


    Anastasia rushed into the tent, her long hair a swirl behind her as she ran.


    Harin braced himself, knowing his sister had deeper currents within her.


    Anastasia ran past Harin and into Brago¡¯s arms. She wrapped her arms around Brago and breathed him in.


    Harin opened his mouth in surprise. He gaped at the pair.


    He¡¯d known they were together, in some way, but to watch the openness of the two, he didn¡¯t know what to say.


    ¡°Heiser¡¯s harp,¡± Harin murmured.


    Anastasia turned, her face reddened, her eyes puffy. ¡°Brother, you cannot sentence him to death!¡±


    Harin barked a laugh.


    ¡°Please!¡± Anastasia gasped, tears in her eyes.


    ¡°Sister,¡± Harin stepped towards the pair, still joined in an embrace.


    Anastasia looked up, tears in her eyes.


    ¡°Brago left my side at my bidding, he was only doing what he was ordered to do,¡±


    Brago stiffened, still holding Anastasia by the waist. ¡°Sire, I accept whatever punishment you deem fit. I took my oaths under your grandfather, King Kallen, I said it then, and I¡¯ll say it now,¡±


    Harin held up his hand. ¡°You gave your blood oath to the Sunborn line. That is enough Brago,¡±


    ¡°Grandfather killed the last Praetorian that failed him,¡±


    Harin nodded. ¡°I¡¯m not him. I let the last general who betrayed me live, and I will not take Brago¡¯s life for my own ego. He did not fail me, I failed him,¡±


    Harin stepped forward, taking the Praetorian¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Your honor is intact Legate,¡±


    Brago¡¯s eyes glistened. Anastasia sniffed, wiping her nose on her wrist.


    ¡°I¡¯ll not be leaving your side again, sire,¡± Brago bowed.


    ¡°Then come with me, I need to know what these men knew, how they¡¯d made it into this camp, with my Legions at my side. Is one yet alive?¡± Harin asked.


    Brago nodded. ¡°Ethen and his lot killed three on sight. The last is strung up at the wall, I do not suspect they will draw breath for long,¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go stick a knife in him and sort out who¡¯d try and kill both father and son,¡± Geral said from a seat in the corner.


    Brago and Anastasi turned.


    ¡°Uncle!¡± Anastasia ran to Geral as he stood.


    ¡°My little Anastasia, how are you my dear child?¡± Geral pulled her into a deep hug, swinging her around.


    Harin knew that his father¡¯s men had no kin, no children. They¡¯d committed themselves to war, and to The Dragon Legion. Harin, Fabien and Anastasia were all that Geral had.


    ¡°How?¡± Anastasia asked.


    ¡°Another time, little one, we have someone we need to speak with,¡±

 Chapter 21

    Dragh urged his horse on, squeezing with his thighs as his mount, which he purchased from a stable just outside the western gate of Landor at an outrageous price.


    The owner had haggled a price that would have bought Dragh a house in Landor. But the man knew Dragh needed the horse. So he paid it anyways. He¡¯d been fuming as he handed over the coin, but he reminded himself, it needed to be done. He had to get to his son, to his daughter. He knew the Council wanted them gone. But until now, he didn¡¯t know why.


    The Sunborns were getting too powerful. The Compact was meant to bring peace, to empower the Council. But Landor had grown influential. Even his father, Kallen had grown their trade routes before Harin¡¯s ascension. The men from the East, the failed coup by his uncle, it was all the Council trying to snuff out the last bloodline of the empire.


    Dragh knew what needed to be done. Knowledge provided him the power he needed to win. The blade would be the tool of his justice.


    The Sixth and Eighth Legions were camped west, between the Skellen Pass and Landor. On his journey to Cinforths Pass he would collect them. He¡¯d trained General Hasper and Eris. Good men each of them. Loyal to the Sunborn line.


    The sun was high in the sky, by Dragh¡¯s estimates it was just after mid day. He¡¯d been riding on the road west for days now. He hoped to make it to the Legion¡¯s camp within the hour.


    The road west had improved over the years, a mud path once, now a hard packed road wide enough for a carriage to move on from Landor, the sea to the Skellen Pass.


    Dragh wished he could speak with Harin, tell him what he knew.


    He hoped that The Council did not already have it¡¯s hooks in his boy, that he was safe with the Praetorians, with the Fourth, the Eagles.


    ¡ª-


    ¡°State your name!¡± The guard called out to Dragh.


    Dragh smiled, he was no longer in Landor, no longer dealing with the city guard. He¡¯d not fool his own.


    ¡°Nathan! How in Zufiers teeth are you still posted on watch? One bad game of dice and you were relegated for life?¡± Dragh badgered the guardsmen in front of him.


    The young man smiled wide. ¡°General! I told them I didn¡¯t rig it, wasn¡¯t my fault them dice went to the right,¡±


    Dragh clapped Nathan on the back, the young man a brute, shoulders doubly as wide as Dragh¡¯s. ¡°You would have made a fine addition to the Second my boy. Fine addition,¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Dragh thought back on the old Legion, the Second. Not for the first time, he cursed the memory of his Uncle for killing most of the men he¡¯d served with. After the Eighth, the Second had become family. Hemmelle, Geral, Pello and Cello had helped to bring his Uncle to justice, but they¡¯d paid a steep price for it, a price of blood.


    ¡°Lo, General!¡± A call went up from the men inside of the camp as Dragh made his way through the center of camp. All Landorian Army camps were set up in the same way. Four side, four gates four main pathways from the center. Towers on each corner. The troops camped in their tents, multiple men to a tent. The cook centered the camp, with the Commanders ¡®Tet in the center of the camp.


    Dragh walked through the sea of tents, saying help to soldiers he knew, nodding to those who saluted him that he didn¡¯t know. His legs were tired from the journey, his horse shadowing his pace.


    He felt his age, old. He¡¯d been living in army camps for most of his adult life. The occasional trip home to Landor, but these walls of earth and timber, thewy ere what he knew.


    ¡°General! A welcome sight!¡± A voice called out.


    Dragh smiled, stopping in his track and turning to the tents.


    Sat around a campfire with his men surrounding him while he ate was the General of the Third Legion, The Spears.


    ¡°General Hasper!¡± Dragh shouted.


    Men cheered at the reunion.


    ¡°Kiever¡¯s leg it is good to see you,¡± Hasper pulled Dragh into an embrace as he came close to the fire.


    Hugging Hasper was like hugging a bear. He was enormous, engulfing Dragh.


    Dragh laughed and clapped the man on the back. Only Hasper could greet his superior like this, his men like this. Dragh had once asked him why he did not salute, why he was so familiar with the men. He¡¯d replied, he was a killer, just like them, he¡¯d just been promoted.


    ¡°Cello sent word when The Dragon Legion passed us to the south. Tell me true, are we marching west?¡±


    ¡°Where is Eris? I will speak it you both,¡± Dragh asked.


    Hasper laughed, both hands on his belly, a full body laugh that shook him. ¡°That old toad is in the command tent, reading!¡±


    Dragh looked around at the men collected around the campfire. All of them watched Dragh and Hasper. All of them waited, on the edge of their seats, on the balls of their feet.


    ¡°Do they know?¡± Dragh asked, looking Hasper in the eye.


    Hasper jutted out his chin, mirth in his eyes. ¡°My men, Eris¡¯ men, they are our lifeblood, of course the know,¡±


    Dragh nodded, grinning. ¡°Good,¡±


    Hesper¡¯s smiled widened, he looked around to the men who had begun trickling in around them.


    Dragh followed his eyes. Men of the Sixth, Hasper, The Eighth Eris¡¯ had filtered through the tents, filling the spaces between them. It was quiet, none spoke. The soldiers stood, trees in a forest of steel and leather.


    ¡°Men and women of Landor! Dragh roared.


    The men cheered, raising their fists in the air.


    Dragh put his hands up, splaying his fingers. ¡°I come to you with tidings of WAR!¡±


    The men cheered again, more of them pushing into area around where Hasper and his men had gathered that evening. The tents were swamped with men, as far as Dragh could see now. He kept turning slowly, making sure to throw his voice into the crowd of men and women around him.


    ¡°The Council has pushed our King to the west, he goes to war with the Horde!¡± Dragh paused, letting it sink in.


    None alive had truly battled the Horde. They knew only that the Horde was a menace, one that had been quiet for a generation.


    ¡°The Council pushed the King out into the West, and there they will kill him, to try and end the Sunborns! What they did not account for is YOU and the people of Landor. We will not take this betrayal, we will not take this betrayal. We will take the fight to them, take it to the very Council who betrays us. We go to the aid of the King!¡±


    ¡°Murderers!¡±


    ¡°Betrayers!¡±


    ¡°Aye, they betray us! The signed Compact is what they betray and they betray every oath taken to them to keep this land safe!¡± Dragh fed off the shouts from the legions.


    ¡°How will we get through the Pass!¡±


    Dragh had been waiting for this moment, the momentum of his speech taking hold.


    ¡°We will do what men did before us! What our forefathers did in the time before the Skellen Pass.¡±


    Dragh paused again, turning, looking men and women of the legions in the eye. He wanted their attention.


    ¡°We will cross Cinforths Pass! We will do what none have done for generations! We will catch them in the West, destroy them and save the crown of Landor!¡±


    The men around Dragh cheered again.


    ¡°HIC SUNT DRACONES!¡± Dragh shouted, thrusting the blood dragon tattooed to his arm into the air.


    ¡°HIC SUNT DRACONES!¡± A wave of sound washed over them, the army cheering the battle cry of the Dragon Legion.

 Chapter 22

    ¡°Can he speak?¡± Harin asked.


    Four men turned in surprise, their faces painted with shock at seeing their king.


    ¡°My liege,¡± All four dropped to their knees.


    Geral stepped forward with Brago, waving for the men to move out of the way.


    Across the timber wall of the camp was splayed the last assassin that had tried to kill Harin. His arms were tied up with ropes, slung across the wall from hooks attached to the top of the wall with spikes. The ropes were put through the hooks, and then tied to stakes buried in the earth.


    The man¡¯s legs had been beaten, blood and bruises covering them. This face a pulp of flesh and blood. His clothes stained dark from the beating he¡¯d endured.


    ¡°Your king asked you a question, can he speak?¡± Geral growled, inspecting the assassin.


    The man on the far right glanced to Harin, averted his gaze and then back to Harin.


    Harin pointed. ¡°Speak, now,¡±


    The man looked down again. As Harin was about to command the solider to speak, the man cleared his throat.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t do this, the Praetorian¡¯s delivered him like this,¡± The man glanced up.


    Harin nodded. ¡°What say you Legate Brago?¡±


    Brago¡¯s cheeks turned rose red. ¡°I will investigate, with your leave sire,¡±


    Harin gave a sharp nod.


    Brago looked at Anastasia, then have a salute to Geral and Harin.


    Harin watched the Praetorian go, his mind heavy with indecision about the Praetorian. Would he be able to forgive the man? He¡¯d said as much to his sister, and to Brago, but the ugly head of anger had reared it¡¯s ugly head in his heart. He was angry with Brago. He didn¡¯t know how long that would last.


    ¡°Cut him down, and leave us,¡± Harin saif to the four soldiers.


    The four soldiers went about their task without comment, glancing to Geral and then Harin as they did.


    The assassin came to the ground with a grunt of pain from the battered man. Harin waited for the men to slip the restraints off and then to go. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Sire, I think I¡¯ll go first,¡± Geral put his hand up in front of Harin.


    ¡°Aye old man,¡± Harin muttered.


    Geral smirked, and stepped forward to the would be killer of the king.


    Harin followed, kneeling slightly behind and to the side of Geral. Geral picked up the man¡¯s head, gently, as if he were picking up an egg.


    ¡°Tell me lad, where are you from?¡±


    Geral tucked the man¡¯s long hair behind his ear with his free hand.


    The man flinched at the touch.


    ¡°Easy, easy,¡± Geral shushed the man. ¡°You¡¯ll not be hurt while I¡¯m here, I promise you lad,¡±


    ¡°I - I am from the north,¡± The man muttered.


    Geral reached back to his side and pulled a wine skin from his side. He uncorked it, and slowly poured some into the man¡¯s mouth. The man choked and spit it up.


    ¡°Easy lad, it¡¯ll sooth the pain,¡± Geral offered the skin again.


    The man took a drink, wincing as he swallowed.


    Harin watched with surprise, the gentle nature of Geral in contrast to the martial man he knew the Legate to be.


    ¡°How¡¯d you get pulled into this?¡± Geral asked.


    The man closed his eyes and shook his head.


    ¡°Why not lad, why not? I promise you that the worst is over, the pain is almost over,¡± Geral smiled down at the beaten man.


    The man opened his eyes and looked back at Harin. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, they threatened my girls, they threatened my wife. They told me -¡±


    The man started coughing, a wet and phlegmy cough. Harin shivered from the sound. He¡¯d heard it after fights, when a man¡¯s lungs were filling with blood and liquid. There was not saving this man now. He was as good as dead.


    Harin fought not to gag. The man¡¯s breath, as he coughed was dark. The smell of sweet sickness on it.


    Geral offered the wine skin again. The man drank.


    ¡°Tell me, who was it?¡± Geral said.


    The man shook his head.


    ¡°Who were they, who made you do this? Tell us and we will find your family, protect them,¡± Geral said.


    The mans eyes were wide. ¡°Do you swear it?¡±


    ¡°I swear it, tell me truthfully who had you try and kill the king, and I will find your family, protect them,¡±


    The man looked from Geral to Harin. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, they said they¡¯d kill my girls. I couldn¡¯t say no. They were mercenaries. They took my girls and my wife when they were at the service. A new church, they were mercenaries, hired to protect the new church in the north,¡±


    ¡°Who did they work for?¡± Geral prodded.


    The man shifted uncomfortably, trying to roll away from Geral.


    Geral grabbed his head in both hands, shaking him. ¡°Tell me who they worked for! Tell me now!¡±


    Harin stepped forward to stop Geral, but stopped himself. He wanted to know, he needed to know. Who were these mercenaries? Who were they working for?


    ¡°They worked for the Church! That¡¯s all I know!¡± The man started crying.


    Geral dropped the man¡¯s head and spit in disgust.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t know any more, does he?¡± Harin asked.


    Geral shook his head.


    ¡°Tell me you will find them, tell me, We were north of the Pass, just beneath the Car Lauch, a village called Ahmer!¡±


    Geral pulled a dagger from his belt and stabbed the man in the head, driving the blade through the man¡¯s temple.


    ¡°No!¡± Harin shouted.


    Geral dropped the man¡¯s head, now limp from his one hand and spit on him.


    ¡°You said you¡¯d not hurt him, you said we¡¯d protect his family.¡± Harin said.


    Harin clenched his fists, shaking with anger.


    Geral wiped his knife off on the dead man¡¯s shirt, then inspected it before sheathing it. ¡°I told him the truth, sire. I killed him, he wasn¡¯t hurt by my hands, was he now? As for his family, he tried to kill mine, I¡¯ll not loose any sleep over his death,¡±


    Harin closed his eyes and took a long breath.


    ¡°When you speak of such things, when I am here, you invoke my honor. I will not have it shamed, Geral,¡±


    Geral narrowed his eyes in question.


    ¡°He said the mercenaries took his family after they were at a service. It has to be at a Church of Zufier. It was so in the south, my father killed a garrison, burned a church down. His letter said they¡¯d had to in order to get to some truth. That they church was involved with the Council,¡±


    Geral pursed his lips.


    ¡°What do you know?¡± Harin asked.


    Geral sighed. ¡°Your father had informants inside the church. They were working for his spymaster. They say that the Church is funded by the Council. They are one in the same. The information the Church gathers goes straight to the Council,¡±


    Harin nodded. It was what his fathers last letter had said. One he¡¯d sent directly from Landor a week before, the bird had found Anastasia. She¡¯d told him it was from her own Aviary.


    ¡°Spread the word. No one in, no one out,¡± Harin said.


    ¡°And The Council?¡±


    ¡°I will handle them in my own time. For now, no one speaks of this. They do not need to know it failed,¡±


    Geral nodded and began to leave.


    ¡°Geral,¡± Harin said, staring at the dead body before him.


    ¡°Aye, sire?¡± Geral said form behind him.


    ¡°Find this man¡¯s family. Dispatch a squad. We honor our word in Landor,¡±


    Harin waited, but Geral said nothing. The moment stretched on, then Harin heard his footfalls receding.

 Chapter 23

    ¡°Tell me of the world, Anastasia,¡± Harin said.


    Harin wiped at his forehead, the sweat collecting in the hot desert sun. They¡¯d marched for days without contact from the other nations Legions of the Council. Harin had insulated himself, knowing that at any time another assassin could come for him.


    They both sat atop their horses, the slow walk through the desert requiring many breaks for the steeds unaccustomed to the heat.


    Anastasia pulled back her scarf, having taken to using a full face cover in the style of the locals. ¡°I¡¯m told father left Landor, and that is the last he has been heard from. However, a report from Skellen Pass suggests that their scouts have seen men massing to the south of the Pass,¡±


    ¡°You have people in the Pass?¡± Harin asked.


    ¡°I think it is father, or The Dragon Legion,¡± Anastasia shrugged.


    Harin looked out over his legions. They¡¯d been marching for weeks now. They¡¯d passed small villages, some small water ways. But this far into the desert, only nomads and the horde would venture. None would sustain themselves. His men were tired, but marched on, building sand camps each night, mounds of sand thrown up in walls, camping under the moon so conserve energy.


    ¡°You know, some of the old books tell us of a vast forest here. One that stretched from north to south. As wide as the western kingdoms are,¡±


    Harin laughed. ¡°They are but fables, it has only been desert here sister,¡±


    Anastasia scolded. ¡°You think that what is before us is all that has been. But history, it can teach us that the world changes around us, more than we know,¡±


    Harin waved her off. ¡°What else of father, has he sent word?¡±


    Anastasia wrinkled her nose. ¡°What do your spies tell you?¡±


    ¡°They tell me they do not know. The world is closed off from them. Father was in Landor, a priest of knowledge confirmed it. He was in a place that only Grandfather had been. A secret place in the library that the old man would not allow them to see,¡±


    ¡°The Sunborn Archive,¡± Anastasi said, her voice low.


    ¡°What is it? Why did father leave The Dragon Legion for such a thing?¡±


    Anastasia didn¡¯t answer, her eyes following the marching men.


    Harin followed her gaze, then, found Brago among the soldiers. He was laughing and smiling with his fellow Praetorians. ¡°You care for him, sister?¡±


    Anastasia smiled. ¡°I cannot explain it,¡±


    ¡°Does father know?¡± Harin asked.


    Anastasia¡¯s cheeks turned the same color red at Brago¡¯s. ¡°He - he thought we should wait to tell father. He knew how it would look,¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°He knew he risked his position in the Praetorian,¡± Harin said.


    ¡°No!¡± Anastasia saint loudly.


    Harin smirked.


    ¡°No, he was worried for me, not the Legions or Praetorian, he knew it would drive a stake between us,¡±


    Anastasia looked to Harin with a question in her eyes.


    ¡°Never sister, never. We lost Fabien, we lost mother, I will not loose you too. If you tell me that you love him, if you tell me that he loves you, he can keep his position with the Praetorian,¡±


    ¡°Father would never allow it, one close to me, protecting you,¡±


    ¡°What better way to ensure he does not kill me, for the fear of facing your wrath sister,¡± Harin chuckled.


    ¡°You mean it?¡± Anastasia asked.


    ¡°Father is the General of Landor¡¯s Legions. I am her King. I say it is so,¡±


    Anastasia reached over and squeezed Harin¡¯s arm.


    ¡°What is this archive?¡±


    Anastasia nodded, letting the moment of affection pass between them. ¡°I know little of it, and what little I know is only what father allowed me to know. Do you remember the key around his neck?¡±


    ¡°The little one on the leather cord?¡± Harin asked.


    ¡°He always used to tuck it away, as if it could not greet the sun for fear of it crumbling,¡±


    ¡°What of it?¡± Harin asked, remembering the key from his childhood. It would slip from his father¡¯s shirt when they fought. He, Fabien and Anastasia. His father would come home and they would tackle him. They were at his knee, but they would gang up and push him over. Or their father would allow it. But every time the thing slipped out, he¡¯d stop and tuck it back in, sometimes with Harin hanging from his arm, as if he¡¯d weighed nothing.


    ¡°I asked him once, where it was a key to. He told me, he told me that it was to a place where the Sunborn kept their histories, that one day he¡¯d give it to me,¡±


    ¡°How did you know it was an Archive? Where it was?¡± Harin asked.


    ¡°I spent the entire summer in the libraries and places of import. I asked and asked if they knew of the Sunburn¡¯s histories. Until I got to the Grand Library,¡±


    ¡°And what did you learn there?¡±


    ¡°I followed the old man, the priest, one night after he¡¯d closed the place up. He had ran me out when I¡¯d asked of the Sunborn Histories earlier in the day. He¡¯d shouted and pushed me from the place. And that is when I knew I was in the right place.


    I followed him to the back, to the quarters where he lived, I watched him open a door in the back of his quarters, one filled with books and skins and paintings. That¡¯s when I knew that I¡¯d found it. A secret, a secret of knowledge,¡±


    Harin felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His sister had always been brazen, always been one to push the limits. This was just another example of how brave she was at such a young age. He wasn''t sure if what his sister saw was right, but his people had written that his father was seen exiting the Grand Library.


    ¡°Sire!¡±


    A call from a Legate snapped them both out of their trance, one shared with the engrossment of a story between them, lost in memory.


    ¡°Legate Fala mar, what is it?¡±


    A young man with a sharp nose and long brown hair rode up the Sunborn siblings. He gave a sharp bow. ¡°News from the rear, they cannot find the Legions of the Council, nor any of the others,¡±


    ¡°My Liege!¡± Another call snapped Harin¡¯s attention west.


    ¡°Legate Geral, what news!¡± Harin asked.


    Geral reined in just shy of the trio, his horse panting and snorting. ¡°The forward scouts report sightings of horsemen, groups of them just on the horizon. Too far for pursuit,¡±


    ¡°What does it mean?¡± Anastasi asked.


    ¡°It means that they know we are marching to meet them in war,¡± Harin said.


    ¡°We must go after them,¡± Falamar said.


    Geral laughed. ¡°They¡¯ve been on horseback since before you were born, this is their desert. We will not catch them out here until they want to be caught,¡±


    ¡°Falamar, send out riders, I need to know where they are. Let them carry the message, the Horde is coming. Their outriders are stalking us,¡±


    ¡°They were just men on horses, how do we know?¡±


    ¡°They were Iron Guard, boy. The only bloodlines tough enough to survive this place,¡± Geral said.


    Falamar, hot from the sun, his face tanned, went pale. ¡°Iron Guard?¡±


    ¡°Go, now, send out riders, tell them to go until they find the Council and her Legions, tell them Landor calls for aid,¡±


    Falamar dipped his head and flicked his reins. ¡°Aye, sire!¡±


    When Falamar was gone, Harin growled in anger. ¡°They¡¯ve abandoned us to death,¡±


    Harin cursed as he looked out into the plains east of him. The space between them and Skellen Pass had grown in the weeks that he¡¯d marched west against the Horde. The Horde weas coming, he could feel it.


    ¡°Why would they do this? The Church, The Council, they wanted to march on the Horde. They need our strength, they need our Legions,¡± Geral asked.


    ¡°You kill what you cannot control, uncle,¡± Anastasia said, her eyes still on Brago.


    Geral nodded. ¡°Your father, he always thought that The Council was behind the betrayal,¡±


    Harin and Anastasia did not need to ask what betrayal Geral was speaking of. The betrayal always referred to their great uncle Nestor¡¯s betrayal of the Second Legion.


    ¡°He never could prove it, neither could grandfather,¡± Harin said.


    ¡°It looks like he may have been right,¡± Geral said, his voice low.


    Harin looked to his sister. ¡°Tell me you know something of this?¡±


    Anisates shook her head. ¡°My people, they are too deep to get word out. They are embedded,¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s time to call them in from the cold Anastasia, we need to know what is happening. If the Council waits with her legions, and the horde attacks, they will simply have to pick over our bones,¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can,¡± Ansi Tisa said, her face strained.


    ¡°God¡¯s help us if the Iron Guard rides into us. They say it is thousands strong. The best riders in the worlds,¡±


    The comment hung in the air like the stink of rot.

 Chapter 24

    Harin pulled at the stopper on how water skin and then put it to his lips. The warm water sloshed around, and he tipped it up and drank deeply, stopping himself from drinking too much water in front of his men.


    The Legions had instituted rations, further than the rations that he¡¯d had to put in place after Skellen. They had too few water wagons, and now, he had even less to go around.


    Harin wiped at his brow again with his sleeve. The sweat would dry from the sun, but he liked the cool of wiping it off himself. Or he imagined it cooled him.


    ¡°Sire, there is a town across the dunes to the west. It is further into the Hordes territory. There are no trees to speak of to build a camp. We tried, but there is nothing but grass and sand. We must seek refuge there,¡± The scout reported.


    Harin closed his eyes. His worst fears. They were to be stuck in the desert.


    ¡°Water? Tell me there is water,¡± Harin asked, a prayer more than a question.


    ¡°We dared not enter. It - it would be the perfect place for an attack, an ambush,¡±


    ¡°Has The Council come closer?¡± Brago asked.


    Harin shook his head. ¡°No, Falamar says his men were warned off when they found them. They even shot a few warning arrows,¡±


    ¡°But they march west?¡± Len asked.


    ¡°Aye, Len, they march, but far enough away to find our carcass after the birds have picked it bare,¡±


    ¡°Brago, have the men ready at first light. I want the Legion moving by the time the sun is above the horizon,¡± Harin said.


    Brago nodded, issuing a command to the primus at his side.


    ¡°I told you to take care of that, not your primus,¡± Harin snapped.


    Brago nodded. ¡°Aye sire, I vowed not to leave your side while on campaign, and I intend to keep that vow,¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Harin rolled his shoulders, trying to hide his irritation.


    ¡®Show me, Len, how much to we have left?¡± Harin asked his Quartermaster.


    Len, his jiggling jowls slimmed down by the long march grimaced. He turned back to the wagons that they¡¯d arrayed in the center of camp and started to walk to them.


    The wagons were lined in a small ring, holding what little livestock they¡¯d been able to purchase as the vanguard of the Council¡¯s force. Each village had some chickens, cows or pigs they¡¯d been willing to sell.


    All of the livestock were small, water a premium the further west you went.


    Len looked around, making sure that none were too close to them before he spoke.


    ¡°Last we filled up was a week ago, and we have half of this left,¡± Len said, tapping on a cart loaded with four water barrels.


    ¡°Sire, you should fill up your skin,¡± Brago said.


    Harin felt his hands tighten on his water skin that he¡¯d been drinking from. The water was sloshing dangerously low./


    One of the roosters called, another rising up to answer it.


    ¡°Half of the cart?¡± Harin asked, his mouth watering.


    ¡°Two barrels,¡± Len confirmed.


    ¡°Kiever¡¯s balls, that¡¯s enough for half a day,¡± Brago said.


    ¡°There better be water close, or this march will end for all of us,¡± Len agreed.


    Harin said nothing, praying to the gods that there would be water in the village his scouts had found.


    ¡ª--


    The morning came early for Harin, up before the light touched the white walls of his command tent. His eyes opened, crusty at the corners, sticking as if the night had conspired to keep him blind.


    He wouldn''t have second guessed it in a palace like this. ¡°I¡¯ve cursed us,¡±


    ¡°Sire, are you up?¡± Brago asked from outside the tent.


    ¡°Zufier above, do you sleep Praetorian?¡± Harin muttered.


    A chuckle came from Brago outside the tent. Harin could see the outline of the man against the torches.


    Harin pushed the furs off of himself. The nights were cold in the desert, but just before the sun came up was as warm as a bath. His feet found the floor and he pushed upward. As he stood he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. His head was pounding as if from a night of drinking, but he knew it was from the lack of water.


    ¡°Sire,¡± Brago asked.


    ¡°Come in Brago,¡± Harin found his water skin, hanging off a hook at the side of his bed. He tipped the contents up and into him mouth.


    Little water dribbled out.


    Brago brought a small candle into the tent and lit the lamps hanging over the seats arrayed for Harin and anyone else that might join him.


    ¡°Sit, sire,¡± Brago motioned for the chairs.


    Harin fell into the chair, his head light.


    ¡°Here, drink this sire,¡± Brago pushed a water skin into his hands.


    Harin pushed it back. ¡°I cannot, the men need their rations first,¡±


    Brago knelt in front of Harin.


    ¡°Sire, they¡¯ve had all of their skins filled to half this morning, we have but hours to make it to this village. We need to move, now, or the men will start dropping,¡±


    Harin corked an eyebrow. ¡°They are ready?¡±


    ¡°I woke them before I came here, I wanted them to be ready. If we move before the sun is up, they will not loose as much water to the sun,¡±


    Harin smiled and rose. ¡°Thank you Brago,¡±


    ¡ª---


    The march was longer than Harin had expected. He walked beside his horse because he did not have the heart to sit atop the beast of burden in the heat of the desert.


    The town, if one could call it that came into view just at the sun reached the middle of the sky.


    Harin held up his hand, squinting against the sun. ¡°Walled, with many structures still standing,¡±


    ¡°Aye, looks as if it¡¯s been abandoned for some time,¡± Geral said.


    Harin looked over at his sister, her face covered in the light scarf she¡¯d taken to wearing. ¡°If this were a forest, a town of this size would not look out of place,¡±


    Anastasia¡¯s scarf moved, her eyes showing a smile.


    ¡°PFMT, this palace is desert,¡± Brago said.


    Harin laughed.


    ¡°Generals, Legates. Take this town, search this place. Find me wells, make sure there are guards posted at every one of them with Strick orders to only allow the Quartermasters men and women to load water,¡±


    ¡°Aye sir!¡±

 Chapter 25

    ¡°We must give up the horses. We cannot afford the water,¡±


    The statement hung in the air like a foul smell.


    Harin looked around at his men an women of the Landorian Army. A group of them, mostly cavalry, some of them scouts had gathered outside of the walls of the village they¡¯d found.


    ¡°How will we transport our supplies if we do not have horses?¡± A young man of the supply train asked. His face was burned, the skin slightly peeled around his eyes, he was tall and skinny.


    Harin grimaced. This was the conversation he¡¯d wanted to avoid. Some men and women knew there were things that you did not speak of, this was one of them.


    ¡°We will not have to worry about having too many supplies to carry when theism is over,¡±


    ¡°When this is over?¡± The young man balked.


    ¡°The Horde knows we are here, it is a matter of time before they come for us. We do not have enough water to move and to take the horses with us. It is much to ask of you all, but I ask it anyway. We must give them up, or they will drink us dry,¡±


    Harin left the last part unsaid. If they did not give their horses neigh water, they would caulis. Their insides would twist and turn and they would die a painful and slow death. It would not happen right away, but it would happen. The screams of a dying animal would be enough to unnerve them all.


    Brago stepped forward from Harin¡¯s side. ¡°Bring them here. We will dispose of them,¡±


    ¡°Dispose! What is the meaning of this?¡± A scout shouted.


    Harin felt despair creeping over him. ¡°They cannot be released. They will simple be more weapons for our enemy to bring against us,¡±


    ¡®What will we do with them?¡±


    Brago put his hand on Harin¡¯s shoulder. An understanding between them. ¡°They will be processed, we need the meat,¡±


    Harin could hear a couple of the men gag, one wrenched. Among the crowd he could pick out the women of Landor. All of them wore expressions of discus, but most of all they stood resolute. They did not flinch, they knew the pain, the need to do what must be done.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Go, now, we do not have time to waste,¡±


    The sound of construction behind them was loud, coming out and over the walls. Every gate, every section of wall needed work. Wood and stone and time. Harin did not know when the Horde would come. But he knew he had to be ready. Even now the scouts were looking for water sources, the wells in this place were but seeps. Slow, not enough to gorge them. Just enough to sustain, to survive.


    The crowd petered away. Grumbling and anger directed at Harin and Brago. Harin set his face and remained calm, knowing he was asking these people to give up what constituted some soldiers family members.


    ¡°We need to keep a horse for you sire,¡± Brago said.


    Harin looked around at the departing men. They were down the outer wall on their way to the picket lines. Most moved through the sand with slumped shoulders. He looked back to Brago. ¡°It cannot be, Brago, I am the king, I must lead the men,¡±


    Brago began to protest.


    ¡°Enough, I will not discuss it Brago. I ordered the men to cut loose the horses, I will suffer the same fate. I will not give myself a boat to escape on if our is set ablaze,¡±


    Brago nodded, his mouth pursed.


    ¡°Tell the cook, he will have fresh meat tonight. Do not let it all go to waste,¡±


    ¡ª--


    ¡°Open the gates!¡±


    A shout came up from the gate as Harin walked the town¡¯s perimeter with Brago. It had taken no time for the legions to disperse, searching every building and corer of the place.


    Harin looked up at the newly constructed gates, strung up lumber from fallen homes, doors, tables and chairs all strewn together and patched into gates on the four sides of the town¡¯s walls.


    ¡°If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d swear we were in our own camp,¡± Brago muttered.


    Harin thought on it, the palace was laid out just like his own army camps. Just like the ones that every Legion of the Landorian army had constructed for generations. It was eerie.


    The heavy timber that had been laid in the back channel of the gate creaked as it was lifted and swung on a hinge to the right. The gates swung open, pulled on either side by a legionnaire.


    Harin¡¯s mouth hung open as he took in the scene.


    Between two of the scouts, one man and one woman, a body was tied to a large log. The man, shirtless and bloodied hung by his legs and arms. The scouts faces were covered in sweat, heaving from exhaustion.


    ¡°Falamar, how?¡± Harin asked.


    The young Legate smiled, his face red and sweaty. ¡°We caught him off guard, takin¡¯ a piss if you can believe it. Calen hit him over the head with the haft of his spear,¡±


    ¡°Kiever, is he what I think he is?¡± Harin asked.


    ¡°Only people out here are the Iron Guard,¡±


    A light breeze touched Harin, cooling the sweat on his brow. He could smell the men and himself. Water was at a premium in this place. They¡¯d killed their own horses, there was hardly enough water to keep them alive, let alone bathe. He itched, sand still thought his clothes from gusting winds carrying waves of sand.


    ¡°What happened to his horse?¡± Harin asked.


    Falamar let out a chuckle, then looked back to the man and then to Harin. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe it, but he was on his horse. Only reason we got him, he was standing and pissing off his horse. Never saw the likes. If we had our horses still, I think he¡¯d of gotten the better of us. Like it was, he got Cat, horse wheeled and kicked him in the chest,¡±


    The other soldier grimaced, and then spoke in a softer voice than Falamar. ¡°Horse just clipped me, I was far enough away sire,¡±


    ¡°If you need aid, we can take it from here,¡±


    The woman scowled. ¡°I¡¯ll see this one to the end, we owe him,¡±


    Harin grinned. ¡°Thank you, let us go see what this one knows,¡±


    They moved through the town towards its center. Whoever had built it, however long ago had built it of stone. Once, he assumed that the stone had sharp edges, but now, over the years the crisp edges of the buildings were rounded, softened by time and weather.


    ¡°Move, or I¡¯ll move you,¡±


    Harin grimaced at his men behind him. All were on edge, they were on edge now.


    The town was set up with it¡¯s gates on all four sides, the buildings were arrayed with homes throughout the outer ring, barracks in the middle, cookhouses beside them and a large command building overlooking empty courtyards around it.


    They walked through the courtyards, empty, but he could imagine it with vegetation, trees, water running through it. Vivid images painted his mind as he walked. This place could have been beautiful, he thought.


    ¡°Bring him to the top, there is a room in the south end that we can hold him,¡± Brago said, not far behind Harin.


    Harin kept walking, two guards at the dorm spears held at the ready saluted him as he passed into the command building.

 Chapter 26

    ¡°Tell me your name,¡± Harin commanded.


    The bloody faced man sneered at Harin, his white teeth laced with blood from the beating he¡¯d been given by the Landorian who¡¯d hauled him to this place on their backs.


    He hadn¡¯t seen it when they first hauled him in, but the blood was crusting now at the corners of his mouth. Falamar had said they¡¯d hit him off his horse with the haft of a spear. He could see the bruising and the swelling on the man¡¯s face and around his eyes.


    Didn¡¯t matter how tough you were when you got hit in the face. The mighty all fell hard when they fell.


    The horseman spit on the ground in front of Harin.


    Harin walked over to the chair they¡¯d tied him to, inspecting the bindings on his arms and legs. The chair itself was sturdy, made in a bygone age by the look of the wood. He wondered at his sisters proclamation that this had once been a place surrounded by forest and water. The thick oak chair gave him second thoughts of the past.


    ¡°You see that door?¡± Harin pointed at the one door to the room in the building they¡¯d occupied. It was in the center of town, two stories up, a large room for converging to plan with his leaders. As if it were a command tent.


    The man¡¯s eyes darted to the door and back. Harin could see fear there, beneath the tough exterior. He was a large man, broad of shoulder with legs the size of a barrel. A man who¡¯d clearly grown up horseback.


    ¡°There are legionnaires out there, and Praetorians. My Praetorians. I will not bore you with the details, suffice to say if you tell me what your name is, if you make this easy, I will not have them force it from your lips,¡±


    The man raised his chin, baring his throat in defiance.


    Harin laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll not kill you. No, I leave that to my father. I will make your life uncomfortable, I will have my men do that. And then you will speak. And when this is all over, you have my word that you will be free to go,¡±


    ¡°Free? You think that I trust you me of the east?¡±


    ¡°Huh, the men of the east? Funny, we think of others as men from the east,¡± Harin commented.


    The horsemen glared openly at Harin. ¡°Kill me and have it done with, torture me if you must, I will give you nothing,¡±


    Harin sat across from the man, waiting for the silence to envelop them.


    It lasted longer than Harin expected. He had nothing to offer this man but threats. He knew that. He also knew that torture would give him a truth, whatever truth this man could force out. A man or woman being tortured would give nothing up that was to be trusted.


    Another lesson from his grandfather.


    The silence stretched. Harin could hear his men in the next room. Brago had fought him, pled with him to let him come into the room with Harin. Harin had refused. This was a thing to be done between one man and another.


    The man looked down, his strong shoulders slumping. ¡°Atlan, my name is Atlan,¡±


    ¡°Atlan,¡± Harin said, the name odd in his mouth.


    ¡°I am of the Iron Guard, you will get nothing from me!¡± Atlan insisted.


    Harin put his hands out in front of him, empty. ¡°I ask only what your people have done to the villages outside the Skellen Pass. It is why I am here, my people are here,¡±


    Altan¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Skellen Pass?¡± He asked, almost halting.


    ¡°The Pass in the Car Lauch Mountains, your people attacked villages, raped and killed it¡¯s people,¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Atlan snorted. ¡°The Iron Guard would never. Never do such a thing. It sullied my honor to even suggest it. If I were free I¡¯d kill you for such an insult,¡±


    ¡°My grandfather told me of your people, he said that you were honorable people, once, long before,¡±


    Atlan turned his head, his face flushed.


    ¡°Tell me the truth Atlan, who killed those people if not you and your kin,¡±


    Atlan grunted. ¡°We are not one people, not like you easterners,¡±


    ¡°You are not?¡± Harin asked.


    Atlan grunted again, closing his eyes and rolling his neck. Harin could hear the cracking of his neck as he turned it back and forth. ¡°We are here to stop the same thing you are. The people of the plains, of the desert, we are one people. Not of one mind,¡±


    ¡°So the Iron Guard was sent out to stop the same problem as us?¡±


    Atlan opened his eyes, wary of Harin. ¡°We were sent to keep the peace, the peace that we have kept for hundreds of years. Long before you Pass,¡±


    It was Harin¡¯s turn to sit back in his chair.


    ¡°So, you were sent to stop this from happening, an invasion of the west,¡± Harin replied.


    Atlan nodded. ¡°It appears we were too late,¡±


    ¡°Sire,¡±


    A knock at the door surprised them both.


    Harin tried to hide the irritation in his voice. ¡°Brago, what is it?¡±


    Brago entered the room, closing the door behind him.


    Harin watched Atlan as he leaned to the side to see what he could through the cracked door. When Brago closed the door Atlan leaned back upright and met Harin¡¯s stare.


    ¡°Sire, I need to speak with you outside,¡±


    ¡°Say what you must, Brago,¡± Harin replied, watching Atlan.


    Harin could feel Brago fidget.


    ¡°It¡¯s the Guard,¡±


    Atlan smiled for the first time since Harin had entered the room, his teeth white but still bloody.


    ¡°They come for their kin, eh?¡±


    ¡°It appears so,¡± Brago said.


    Atlan laughed, the laugh filling the room. It was a laugh of joy. ¡°You are doomed, I tell you now. The Iron Guard will come for me, through the Pit if they must. I will be free of this place, of that I can promise you Harin,¡±


    ¡°Welp. Address him as King Sunborn or Sire,¡± Brago cuffed Atlan.


    Atlan¡¯s eyes widened as he rocked back in his chair, almost upending onto the floor.


    ¡°Brago, enough! You can leave!¡± Harin commanded his Praetorian.


    Brago ground his front foot, and then turned to leave.


    Atlan spit on the floor as he left. The door slammed shut, Brago shouting at the men outside of the door, an unintelligible anger radiating from him at being dismissed again.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Atlan,¡± Harin said.


    Atlan had taken on a new demeanor at the mention of Harin¡¯s name. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide.


    ¡°Your name, it¡¯s Sunborn?¡±


    ¡°Aye, Harin Sunborn, King of Landor, nice to meet you Atlan,¡± Harin said.


    ¡ª--


    Harin opened the door to the prisoners room, nodding to the guard at either side of the door before entering. He balanced two bowls in one hand, stack one on top of the other.


    Atlan was asleep in the chair he¡¯d been tied to, slumped down and to the right. A day had passed since Harin had spoken with the horseman.


    ¡°Atlan,¡± Harin said, taking the seat opposite him.


    Atlan opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep he¡¯d been woken from.


    ¡°Sunborn,¡± Atlan said.


    ¡°Hungry?¡± Harin asked, offering one of the bowls in his hand.


    Altan¡¯s stomach rumbled in response, the noise bouncing off the stone walls. Atlan nodded to his hands.


    Harin set down the plates on the floor, the dust shooting across the floor from underneath it. He pulled out a dagger or plain steel and started towards Atlan.


    Atlan leaned back.


    ¡°Just your bonds,¡± Harin said, slowly putting the dagger on one of Atlan¡¯s tied up hands.


    Once the bond was cut away Atlan flex his hand and rolled his wrist. All of the blood from his cuts had dried, crusting and flaking on his face and chest. Harin noted the scars across the top of his chest, something he¡¯d not noticed the day before.


    ¡°My people, they have come for me?¡± Atlan asked.


    Harin picked up one of the plates of food and handed it to Atlan.


    Atlan picked up a cut of meat and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply.


    ¡°If I wanted you dead, your head would have been removed from your body after speaking to you yesterday Atlan,¡± Harin sat back down with his plate of food and began to eat it.


    After watching Harin for a few moments, Atlan began to devour his food, shoving mouthful after mouthful in, chewing and swallowing. He finished the plate it the time if took Harin to eat four mouthfuls.


    ¡°Tell me of your people, what will they do now, Atlan?¡±


    ¡°Water,¡± Atlan said, licking his teeth clean under his lips.


    Harin pulled his own water skin off and tossed it the short distance between them to Atlan.


    Atlan caught the water skin with one hand, pulled the top off with his mouth and drank deeply.


    Harin suppressed a smile.


    Atlan took another swig, picked at the cork with his mouth and returned it to the top of the water skin with his one hand.


    ¡°Impressive, you wont finish it?¡± Harin asked, chewing his food slowly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to die Sunborn, my Khan would be displeased,¡±


    ¡°Your Khan is your leader, yes?¡±


    ¡°You will meet him, if you do not die here,¡±


    ¡°And how would I die Atlan? I¡¯ve got Legions of men at my command and a walled city.


    ¡°The walls are older than the east. This place was not whole in generations,¡±


    ¡°And the Legions?¡±


    Atlan¡¯s face turned cold. ¡°They will die for the same reason I give you this water,¡±


    Atlan tossed the water skin to Harin.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that Atlan?¡±


    ¡°Because it takes barrels of water to feed them. To keep them strong in the siege you will be facing. And I know what horse flesh tastes of. That is your own skin, a man like you would not take extra, and so I know that the wells of Yestvata will not provide what you need,¡±


    ¡°Yestvata?¡± Harin asked, shaken by what Atlan had surmised of his own armies situation. He now knew that they would be under siege. The Council¡¯s lies had said they marched at speed to them, but they¡¯d lagged behind again. They were at least


    ¡°We call this place Yestvata. In your tongue, The Cursed.¡± The man said, slowly and methodically chewing small pieces of bread.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe in tales of myth. Tell me the truth of this place,¡± Harin said.


    ¡°It is what I tell you, nothing more. We do not enter this place. It is a cursed place. From the time before. It was abandoned and we dare not stay here any longer. The locals avoid it for many miles. They say even the water is cursed,¡±


    ¡°Then you are cursed now too,¡± Harin tapped the water skin.


    ¡°I could taste the sand in it, the wells here are shallow. It maters not. I will die for my people,¡±


    ¡°What do you fear, Atlan?¡±


    Atlan considered Harin for a moment, then a dark smile crossed his face. ¡°The Sinovi, they are what we fear. You men of the east? You are soft, you will not survive this place,¡±

 Chapter 27

    ¡°Send them in,¡± Harin said quietly to Brago, looking over the small building that was built into the wall of the town itself. Hidden, tucked away.


    Harin was exhausted, the repairs of the walls, Geral, the Council. All of it weighed on him. The threat of the Iron Guard was ever present. More and more had been spotted. He¡¯d had to reduce their patrols outside the walls when fewer and fewer of his scouts had been returning to the town.


    Cursed. Yestvata.


    Atlan¡¯s name for this place came unbidden to his mind. He was starting to believe it now.


    A full squad of armored men looked to their commander in the darkness, only four of the Squad holding torches. Brago flinched at the order, his face telling Harin that he did not want to do what he was being ordered to do.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Brago asked back.


    Harin bristled at the hesitation by his Praetorian. ¡°Anastasia had eyes everywhere. If this gets out -¡± Hair paused, then looked Brago in the eyes. ¡°If this gets out, the army will kill them. They will no longer trust their command. And out here,¡± Harin waved around the desolate town they¡¯d been forced to take shelter in. ¡°Out here that is the kiss of death by Kiever himself,¡±


    Brago let his head bow, then he snapped back up and looked out at his men.


    The gathered Praetorians stood tall, at the ready, the squad in formation. Light flashed off weapons and armor. Harin could see the sweat on their brows in the heat.


    ¡°Praetorians of Landor. You will take these men alive. Do not kill any of them, they are your kin, your fellow soldiers. You have the King¡¯s command. Go,¡± Brago barked out, his voice of command holding authority in the darkness.


    The sound of fifty men out on the march had somehow tricked Harin. Here, in the confines of sand and stone buildings, in the narrow streets of this foreign land, the sound of fifty men of a squad, dressed in their full armour was immense. The noise of rattling swords, scabbards, spear hafts, greaves and breastplates in the dark night was like a thunderclap.


    ¡°Break it down!¡± The Primus of the squad shouted.


    Three men ran forward with a battering ram, a log with a bronze cap on it. They swung back and then forward. The door, decades old, it¡¯s hinges rusted through flew inward. Shouting erupted inside of the building as the squad poured in.


    The moments slid by slowly for Harin, a sick feeling in his gut. He hoped his sister was wrong. He nudged at his wineskin of water slung at his side, feeling the weight. It was half full. Rationing had hurt them all in this heat, but the wells were running dry. Two legions of men working all day in the heat were too much strain for the small towns wells. None of the wells he¡¯d ordered dug had had any amount of water in the last two days.


    ¡°Stop him!¡± a voice shouted on the inside of the building.


    Harin walked into the building, following his men into the chaos.


    The inside of the building was almost hazy. The air was thick, the walls coated in a strange way. Harin almost groaned when he realized it was why they were there. The walls were coated in water. Droplets collected on the stones of the wall and built up pressure until they dropped to the ground.


    ¡°Ussil save me, it¡¯s true,¡± Harin said.


    ¡°Unhand me! Now!¡±


    ¡°You shite!¡±


    Shouts echoed around the corners of the hallways. The sound of fighting, men bouncing off stone walls, sloshing of water. All of it was hostile of Harin¡¯s ears. All of it within the confines of the small building they¡¯d raided. The building had few rooms. The violence was so close that Harin could feel it in his guts as he walked forward. He put his hand on the wet wall as not to falter.


    The hallway was pristine, like the insides of most of the buildings. They had not been exposed to the elements. The stone was not much different from Landor¡¯s, cut from the Car Lauch. For a moment Harin thought, what if this had been quarried form the Car Lauch? Then, he dismissed the idea, knowing the cost of such a venture.


    ¡°Bastards!¡±


    Harin¡¯s ears were assaulted as he turned the stone corner at the end of the hallway. He put his hand on Dawnbringer, the comfortable leather handle like a glove.


    ¡°Let me go first,¡± Brago said from behind Harin.


    ¡°No, I must lead the way,¡± Harin pushed himself forward, into the shouting and yelling.


    The scene before him was chaos. Three naked men were fighting with the soldiers, the Praetorian he¡¯d sent before him. The squad was many, but the men they fought were soldiers of the Fourth, Marius¡¯ men. They¡¯d been through the pit for Landor in the south, and some in the north.


    The shouting was quickly extinguished, a candle in the wind as all three men were clubbed and punched across the chin.


    ¡°Gods, I had hoped it was not true,¡± Brago said form behind Harin.


    Harin surveyed the scene.  Three copper tubs of steaming water sat before him, a small fire beside each to keep the water hot.


    ¡°I¡¯d hoped too Brago, with this selfishness they have forced my hand. I fear what must be done now,¡± Harin said.


    Brago shouted orders to his Praetorian as Harin walked away, his heart heavy. This was a crime against the rest of the soldiers in his army. When they were at war, the use of the resources of the army became paramount.


    Harin knew what he¡¯d have to do, and he hated these men for forcing his hand.


    ¡ª--


    ¡°Why?¡± Harin asked, pacing in front of the three men in the building he¡¯d taken over as his command center.


    The building was in the center of the ghost town, the only feature that


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    The three men stood at attention, their tunics still soaked from when his Praetorian had quickly dressed their unconscious bodies. Two were Primus¡¯ and one a full Legate.


    ¡°Who else was involved, who knew?¡± Harin asked.


    This sort of thing was bound to destroy the Legion¡¯s morale. They were short on water, still on half rations with the five wells in this town. All of them seeps, slowly filling and easily emptied by his men and women. The heat gave them thirst. This place hardly sated it.


    And the three soldiers in front of him had used the water for their own comfort. They¡¯d filled tubs with the stuff, heating the tubs to the point of steam while their own men suffered in the heat, day in and day out.


    Harin walked the room in front of the soldiers, their hands bound behind them. Hate followed his steps.


    ¡°Your king asked you a question!¡± Brago cuffed the Legate on the back of the head.


    Harin winced. He hated hitting a captured man. But he also knew if he did not sort his out, who was responsible for it, he¡¯d have a mutiny on his hands. One life, or three lives for his whole armies? He had no choice.


    ¡°I give you one more chance. If you answer me, the man that answers men will be free to leave this place,¡±


    The Legate laughed, spitting blood on the ground in front of Harin as he paced.


    Harin stopped before he stepped in the blood and phlegm. He turned. ¡°Do you doubt me, Legate?¡±


    The Legate narrowed his eyes.


    ¡°Of course you do, but you all know what became of the General, of Gallis. He is under The Slab. Breathing,¡± Harin reminded them.


    The two Primus¡¯ looked back and forth, nodding to each other.


    ¡°We found this place when we¡¯d cleared the city. We-¡±


    The Legate struck out, kicking the man beside him to the ground, and before any of them had time to react, he threw his weight behind a kick to the talking Primus¡¯ face.


    The wet crunch as the legates foot connected with the Primus¡¯ face almost made Harin gag. ¡°Stop him!¡± Harin shouted.


    Chaos erupted, shouting from all sides, men running to stop the Legate, to hold the other Primus.


    The Praetorians, who¡¯d been standing just behind the Legate struck out at the man¡¯s back leg, two landing licks to throw him to the ground.


    ¡°Help the Primus!¡± Harin said, rushing forward.


    He was shoved to the side at Brago raced past him. Harin almost fell at the Praetorian knelt at the Primus¡¯ side. He steadied himself and went in beside Brago.


    ¡°Speak to me, brother,¡± Brago said as he cradled the injured man¡¯s head.


    Blood came out in bubbles, then in gobs as the man coughed. His body was racked in pain as he vomited, white teeth in the bile as Brago helped him to his side to spit it out.


    ¡°Take him outside and tie him up,¡± Harin pointed at the scowling Legate.


    ¡°Gods, is he alive? All we wanted was a bath, how could you Jamie!¡± The primus that was left standing, shouted.


    The Legate, Jamie, spit on the ground as he was pulled out of the room. He said nothing.


    ¡°Get them both out of here!¡± Harin said to his Praetorians.


    ¡°Is he going to make it?¡± Harin asked Brago.


    The injured man passed out, his eyes closed and his breath came in wheezes. His teeth, what was left of them were jagged and broken things in the front of his face. Blood still oozed from the mans mouth.


    ¡°He will. Although he might not speak. That¡¯s half of his tongue,¡±


    Brago pointed to a glob of red and pink flesh on the floor in the puddle of blood.


    ¡°God¡¯s above. What the pit,¡± Harin said.


    Brago nodded. ¡°The Legate wanted no truths told. He¡¯ll go to his gave for this,¡±


    ¡°He was on his way there, why did he did this?¡± Harin said.


    ¡°Some men, they will fight to the end. Some men do not care for the consequences of life, or for their own death. They live by a different code than us,¡±


    ¡°Gods, I cannot understand it,¡± Harin said.


    Brago sighed, the blood pooled as the man in front of them started to still. ¡°He¡¯s out, let us take him to the surgeon,¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s paid the price, he will never speak again,¡±


    A soft knock at the door frame pulled Harin¡¯s attention away from the man on the floor. His eyes found Anastasia, her look dark.


    ¡°What is it?¡± He asked.


    Anastasia straightened herself up. ¡°Brother, I must speak with you,¡±


    Harin waved her away and turned back to Brago. ¡°Another time sister,¡±


    Harin felt her hand on his shoulder. He collected himself before turning.


    ¡°Anastasia, I cannot step away, I do not have the time for it right now. We have a problem I need to be dealing with,¡±


    Anastasia shook her hear. ¡°The legions are growing angry. Upset at this place. I worry about what they will do when they find out about this, another spit in their face in this place,¡± Anastasia said.


    ¡°Gods, do they already know?¡± Harin asked, knowing that even within his Legions, she had her sources. Honest sources were hard to come by as a king, but he knew that she was a true spymaster. One that knew more than his own.


    ¡°They know, and they know that the Council delays their approach,¡±


    Harin pushed his hand through his hair, blowing out a breath through his teeth.


    ¡ª--


    Harin stood at attention in the heat, sweat trickling down his face. He¡¯d not slept. He could feel the weight of exhaustion on his face, shoulders. He¡¯d lost a step that night, talking with Brago and his leaders late into the night.


    The army was loosing their moral. They knew what faced them. They knew the rumors.


    The Legions were at attention. All of the men and women, including the baggage train were assembled in front of him. A small platform had been erected at hip height. A cross beam had been installed with one noose tied to it¡¯s center.


    The Legate, Jamie was atop a small platform, the sun beating down on him. Harin could see his eyes squinting out at the men and women of the Legions of Landor.


    Harin took two steps up the platform, standing beside the Legate. His commanders had warned him against such a move. The Legate had proven to be formidable, even with him hands tied behind his back. Harin ignored them, the noose around the Legates neck enough to stop him from attacking Harin.


    ¡°You all know why we are here,¡± Harin spoke to the Legions.


    The crowd murmured, but none spoke up.


    ¡°We depend on each other out here. We depend on each and every one of our fellow soldiers to survive out here. You all that we wait for the Legions of the Council. You all know that we are here as a Vanguard in this war against the Horde,¡±


    Silence greeted his comments. Harin knew that it was a risk to be honest with his legions. To give voice to their fears was to give them life. Soldiers all talked. They all had their own fears, they all spoke of the rumors of the army. But he knew their strength, he knew the value of the truth.


    Trust. He had to trust his army.


    ¡°We will survive this war. We will survive this desert,¡±


    Truth was a harsh thing. He could feel the sting of his words on his people.


    ¡°We are here because some have decided that their own comfort was more important than our survival. This man before you decided to abuse his position. It is true, what you¡¯ve heard. I stand before you to tell you that we must all own our actions,¡±


    ¡°Hang him!¡± A shout from the crowd called out.


    Harin move to the Legate, standing beside him. He didn¡¯t look at him, knowing what hate must be in his heart for Harin.


    ¡°Hang him? Hang the man responsible for this?¡± Harin called out.


    ¡°HANG HIM!¡± A call came again, echoed by more this time.


    ¡°Let us hang who is truly responsible for this crime! These me used water to BATHE! They must be held accountable.¡± Harin shouted.


    ¡°HANG HIM!¡± The call we taken up again, more animated this time. It echoed out in the walled town they¡¯d arrayed in.


    ¡°Let us hang the one who is responsible for this crime. Water is life out here!¡± Harin joined in.


    ¡°HANG, HANG, HANG!¡± The legions began to chant.


    Harin nodded, keeping his face a mask. He turned to the legate, Jamie and met his gaze. The legate spit on the platform, daring Harin with his eyes.


    ¡°You know what you¡¯ve done, you know what it means to steal from the Legions,¡± Harin said quietly.


    In front of them, the chants continued.


    ¡°HANG, HANG, HANG!¡±


    Jamie said nothing, lifting up his chin, barring his noosed throat.


    There was one noose on the platform, hanging from a crossbeam above them both.


    Harin pulled his sword, Dawnbringer from it¡¯s scabbard. The handle felt comfortable in his hands. Leather wrapped by his own grandfather. The sweat of his line impregnated the thing. It gave him strength to know his line, the Sunborn line had always held this sword. The blade glinted in the sun, polished to a shine the night before.


    Jamie glanced down at the blade.


    Harin stepped behind the Legate, reversing the blade.


    Cheers rose up from the Legions.


    Harin stuck downward, driving the blade through the Jamie¡¯s bindings.


    Brago, standing to the side of the platform strode towards it. Harin held up his hand to stop the Praetorian.


    Harin sheathed Dawnbringer and pulled the noose from the legates neck.


    Shouts of anger rose up from the crowd, turning it¡¯s tune from bloodlust to anger quickly.


    ¡°If someone is to hang for the crimes of my Legions, the Legions of Landor, it will be the man who is responsible for it!¡± Harin called out, slipping the rough noose around his own neck.


    Jamie looked at him, his mouth open in surprise.


    The noose was rough around his neck, the fibers biting into his skin. The itch was immediate, the weight of the rope heavy on his neck and shoulders.


    ¡°I am Harin Sunborn, and it is I who must answer for my people!¡± Harin called out.


    Jamie didn¡¯t move, his feet rooted in place.


    ¡°If one of us commits a crime, it is I, the king who must own the crime!¡± Harin shouted. His heart beat faster and faster in his chest. His ears rang, his hands shook. He could feel the fear welling up in his stomach.


    The shouts turned angry from before him. Brago shouted out in anger, mounting the platform. ¡°Sire!¡±


    Harin waved him away. ¡°Legate, my life is in your hands. Legions! My life is in your hands. From this moment on,¡±


    Harin let his hands drop to his side. None moved in the parade ground. All eyes were on him. Wind whispered over the wall behind him.


    ¡°Sire?¡± Brago said.


    Harin knew that he was risking it all. He knew that some of his men and women would think him insane. But his army needed a leader. He knew from his grandfather, from his father that a real leader won hearts, not just minds. He¡¯d spent long enough with ink and paper. It was time for him to show his army, show his nation that he was more than the Ink King.


    ¡°We will survive this. I promise you. If you let me, I will lead our people to victory! If you doubt me, any man or women in this army can step forward and carry out the sentence. No harm will befall you. This army is one army, one heart, or it is nothing!¡± Harin said, his voice cracking.


    The army stood stoically.


    Harin looked out into the eyes of the men and women of the army. He found his sister among them. Her eyebrow corked, a small smile playing on her lips.


    Jamie, the legate who¡¯d hours before, had stomped the life from one of his fellow solders knelt. He knelt on the platform that he¡¯d been strung up on, close to death by Harin¡¯s own command.


    ¡°Sire,¡± Jamie said, bowing his head. ¡°Forgive me,¡±


    One by one, the men and women of the Legions began to kneel. They moved as a wave, each kneeling and Bowning their heads. The anger, the rage, the bloodlust relaced by something else.


    Harin felt tears in his eyes, burning in the dry Deseret air.


    ¡°BLOOD AND HONOR!¡± Brago shouted, kneeling with the rest.


    Harin nodded to Jamie who looked up at Harin.


    ¡°BLOOD AND HONOR!¡± Harin shouted out, his voice horse.