Sacrifice: The First Book of the Fey Read Free Page B

Three quarters of swordplay is mental, you know. The more you use that brain of yours, the better horseman and swordsman you’ll be.”
    “I do better when I’m not thinking about what I’m doing,” Nicholas said. He stopped beside the fire and let the heat radiate through his wet clothing.
    “You do better when you are so practiced, so used to thinking about it, that you put no effort into the thought. Imagine if you were that way on affairs of state. You are already a better swordsman than your father. You could be a better statesman, too.”
    Nicholas grinned at Stephen. “You know how competitive I am, and you’re using it.”
    “Yes,” Stephen said. He glanced at the shuttered window. The drum of the rain on the roof almost drowned his words. “I think it’s time we all do the very best we can.”
     
     

 
     
    THREE
     
      Rugar stood on the prow of the ship, his hood down, water pouring down his face. The rain felt cool and good. He had forgotten the feeling of power it gave him to control the weather. The Weather Sprites had done his bidding to perfection.
    By morning the rain would break, and the Fey would be scattered throughout Blue Isle.
    If the maps, the Navigators, and the captive Nyeian were right.
    Rugar pulled his cloak closer. They should have spotted land by now. The year-old charts suggested that the Stone Guardians were near, yet the view was the same: choppy gray water in all directions. The downpour ruined Rugar’s visibility, but he had Beast Riders circling—three Gulls, stolen from his father’s private force.
    Rugar pushed his wet hair off his forehead. His cloak had been spelled to repel moisture, but sometimes he liked the feel of the water on his skin. His bootmaker’s magick hadn’t been quite so skillful. Rugar’s feet were soggy blocks of ice, chafing against the leather. The wind was slight—just enough to push the ships forward without the crew’s resorting to oars or spells.
    The ship groaned beneath him, the wood creaking as the prow cut through the waves. The steady drum of the rain drowned out the sound of water splashing against the sides. Rugar clasped his hands behind his back. Normally, he liked travel, but sailing was different. Riding from country to country allowed him to fantasize about conquest, but he had never seen Blue Isle, had only heard about it through myths, histories, and the Nyeians, who were notoriously untrustworthy. Rugar’s father, the Black King, didn’t even believe the common knowledge: that the Islanders had not seen war. But Rugar believed it. Who would attack that Isle? The Islanders had been smart. They had traded with nearby nations, given them favored status even though (the Nyeians said) the Islanders did not need the goods in return. The Isle was completely self-sufficient.
    It was also between the Galinas continent and the Leutian continent. The best point from which to launch an attack that would bring the rest of the world into the Fey Empire. The Fey had already overrun three continents since they’d left the Eccrasian Mountains centuries before. They should not stop simply because they’d reached the end of Galinas. It was Fey destiny to continue until all five known continents belonged to the Empire.
    The fact that Blue Isle was rich made the idea of conquest all that much sweeter. Within a few days the Fey would own Blue Isle. Rugar would own Blue Isle.
    The Black King would apologize for doubting his only son.
    A gull cried overhead. Its caw-caw echoed over the rain and the splash of the waves. Rugar looked up to see one of his own men on the gull’s back, his lower body subsumed into the gull’s form. Only the man’s torso and head were visible, looking as if he were actually astride the gull. The gull’s own head bent forward slightly to accommodate the unusual configuration, but that was the only concession to the difference. The Rider and the gull had been one being since the Rider had been a child.
    Beast