Harbinger: Fate's Forsaken: Book One Read Free

whispering forever. And because of
that, he’d been forced to make the worst decision of his life. His heart began
to pound just thinking about it, the hand that held his bow sweat freely into
the leather grip as the memory rose unbidden.
    In Tinnark, a
boy’s twelfth birthday was a time of celebration: it was the day when he would
claim his bow and take his place among the men of the village. But for Kael,
that day had been just as miserable as any other.
    His birthday
fell on the first snow of winter — a day so cursed that families went to
great lengths to make sure their children were born nowhere near it. As he’d
made his way to the front of the Hall, alone, every eye in Tinnark was upon
him. Most people watched him pityingly. The old women shook their wrinkled
heads as he passed and whispered:
    “You poor,
Fate-forsaken child.”
    Which did nothing
to ease his nerves. By the time he’d made it to the elder’s table, he could
hardly breathe. He stood with his arms pinned to his side and waited.
    Brock, the
eldest, bent his gray head and addressed him with a parchment-thin voice. “The
day has come, boy.” His hand shook a little as he rested the knobs of his
fingers on the table in front of him. “You’ve earned your bow and your place in
the village. But now you must choose: will you take a full quiver and accept
the position we assign you? Or will you endure the Trial of the Five Arrows?”
    At the time,
Kael thought it was a difficult choice.
    Boys who chose
the full quiver would learn a trade like smithing or fishing, and they were
often assigned to the same trade as their father. For Kael, it would mean being
doomed to the life of a healer.
    Healing was
Amos’s trade, and he was exceptionally good at it. But while Amos seemed to
enjoy reading thick, dusty tomes with titles like What to do if You Lose a Limb , Kael thought he’d rather put an
arrow through his foot and find out for himself.
    No, healing was
simply not for him. He needed to do something a little more adventurous, a
little more exciting, and even though he knew it was folly, he couldn’t help
but dream of becoming a hunter.
    The hunters of
Tinnark worked throughout the seasons, enduring every peril of the changing
land to keep the storehouses full. They were the strongest men, the fastest and
the best shots. The elders believed they were Fate’s chosen — set apart
by trial and tasked with the responsibility of keeping Tinnark alive. And for
that, they were treated like Kings.
    But the elders
never assigned anyone the position of hunter: it had to be earned through the
Trial of the Five Arrows.
    “What have you
decided?” Brock said.
    Kael knew what everyone
expected him to say, and he knew what he should say. But when he opened his mouth, that wasn’t what came out. “I want to face
the Trial.”
    Gasps filled the
Hall — and Kael thought he could hear Amos groaning among them.
    Brock snorted in
disbelief, but somehow managed to keep his face serious. “Very well. The rules
of the Trial are simple: you have five arrows and five years to slay a deer.
Bring the carcass back to Tinnark, and you will earn your place among the
hunters. Fail, and the elders will assign you a more … fitting, trade. May
mercy guide your fate.”
    The years had
passed in a blur and now Kael needed mercy more than ever. He was only a breath
away from his seventeenth winter, and at this point he had no other option: he must succeed. That’s why he’d been so
careful this time, why he’d scoured the forest for tracks and followed them
here.
    He was perched
high in the bend of a giant oak and a wide-open grove yawned out in front of
him. Acorns littered the uneven ground beneath him and their shadows, elongated
by the feeble light of the morning, made the earth look pockmarked. Fall was
coming fast and the leaves were starting to shrivel on their branches.
    There weren’t
many things Kael’s skinny frame was good for, but hiding was one of them. He