Fifthwind Read Free Page A

the corner of his mouth. It was not an ugly
feature, but noticeable nonetheless. He was menacing, intimidating
and outright frightening. The man was a walking cliche of impending
brutality.
    He
wore a light chain shirt over a dark umber jerkin, which revealed the
blue and yellow sleeves of a standard kingdom uniform tucked under
heavy, black gloves. A moss-gray wool cloak hung freely from one
shoulder leaving his sword arm unencumbered. The simple, yet
functional attire indicated experience. He was no stranger to combat.
    Ben
noticed something shining on the neck of the Borderman's cloak.
There, several campaign badges were pinned, one of which caught Ben's
eye. A large, silver badge circled by a gold wreath. It was
unmistakable. Ben considered pointing it out to Mason, but knew that
the veteran soldier had likely already noticed.
    Campaign
badges were a matter of pride. Usually fashioned of wood or bronze,
they were a way for a soldier to show off his experience and
longevity. Most were not officially recognized by the Crown, but the
silver and gold badge this man wore was the only one ever awarded by
King Erlich himself. Ben had only ever seen two others like it.
    The
Borderman dismounted, squared his stance and sneered, "You look a
bit old to be running around with a boy in the wilderness."
    Mason
drew his sword. "And you look a bit young to have fought at
Kruegan's Throat." Mason nodded toward the badge. "When was that?
Fifteen years ago? That badge isn't a trinket to be worn as
decoration by someone who doesn't know how to respect it. A lot of
good men died at The Throat."
    Ben
nervously interrupted, "Mason, I don't think this is the time to—"
    Both
men abruptly turned to Ben and growled in unison, "Quiet!"
    The
Borderman turned his attention back to Mason. "What do you know of
Kruegan's Throat?"
    "I
was there."
    "Not
likely." An angry finger was pointing at Mason. "If you're going
to tell stories, you should first study your history."
    "I
know enough."
    "Nearly
two-thousand men entered that accursed canyon. Only twenty-four of us
managed to escape. I'd remember if you were one of us."
    Mason
grinned. "Twenty-four may have survived the retreat." He sheathed
his sword and straightened his tabard. "Of those brave enough to
press forward, eight of us made it through to the northern side."
    The
Borderman frowned at the apparent insult. "You're going to have to
do better than that to convince me. Everyone has heard the stories
that a handful of men made it through. Haddaway's company was said to
have—"
    "That's
Captain
Haddaway!" Mason corrected.
    The
Borderman took a step back and cautiously lowered his blade. "That's
a gallant boast you make old man." He sheathed his blade and
crossed his arms arrogantly. "You claim to be one of Haddaway's
men, but what evidence have you?"
    "Men
of honor don't question men of honor." Mason gripped the hilt of
the sword on his belt, "And if you insist on calling me an old man,
you could find yourself schooled on how to use one of these things."
    The
Borderman chuckled, but Ben detected a nervous edge to the laugh. It
took a long, uncomfortable moment for the man to compose himself. "I
don't believe you. I need proof."
    "Proof?"
Mason spat, "Most have heard how Knight-Commander Balzor was killed
while bravely pushing through the pass, but if you were there, then
you know he was killed in the first hours of the assault by his own
men." Mason glared at the younger man. "I guarantee you won't
hear that in any history lesson."
    There
followed an awkward silence when the Borderman melted in the
realization of Mason's words. Finally, he uttered, "You
were
there."
    Mason
said, "I've already said as much."
    "The
mission was doomed from the beginning. Balzor was an incompetent son
of a wealthy nobleman and possessed no real field experience. What
those men did was wrong, but he wouldn't have survived anyway... none
in his company did."
    Mason
stiffened. "That may be true, but he was a kingdom