Stone Rising Read Free

fast. Wings, half a mile long. A tail, arrow straight. A head, with befanged jaws and eyes that glowed an otherworldly hue.
                  A Dragonship of legend had come to roost. And Dragonships were called upon for one purpose and one purpose alone.
                  It was the graffiti that appeared that very day in spray painted letters on the wall of the Market Place that conveyed it, the red painted words of the unknown artist reflecting perfectly the mood of the people. The mood of the times.
                  It read: SHIT HAS JUST GOT REAL
    Shit had indeed got real. Shit that had begun, as some would have you believe, over two hundred years before.
    Chapter One:
     
    Thunder in the mountains. Deep, rumbling. But no, not that, not thunder.
    Not anymore. 
    The mountains were long gone, never to be seen again. But the forests; the forests remained. And as long as there were forests, then they could never be defeated. They would always survive, one way or another. They would run. They would hide. And they would do what good they could for the people of this land in what time they had left, knowing that one day, maybe soon, they would be found. And they would be brought back home.
                  It had been promised.
                  That noise again. Luis felt it this time, deep in his chest, growing stronger, steadier. More insistent. It struck him with a thrill of anticipation.
                  Horses, not thunder; the enemy were close.
                  He turned, fled into the trees, disappearing with a skill almost innate until no trace of him remained, save the faintest of twitches as flattened grass strove to right itself and seek once more the weak summer  sun.
     
    ***
     
                  “How close?”
                  “A mile out, maybe two.”
    “How many?”
    “I’m… I’m not sure.”
    A sigh of exasperation and Luis flinched, fully expecting an angry outburst from his questioner, but none was forthcoming. The figure before him merely shook his head in disappointment, before continuing.
    “This isn’t our homeland, Luis. But the principles by which we fight still stand. Where there are trees, there is advantage. Climb. Watch. Report back. We live and die by knowing more than our foe and anticipating his moves. Even with the locals to aid us, we number few. If we’re ambushed, we’re doomed.”
    The man’s tone was quiet, measured, not accusing, yet Luis still looked down, ashamed.
    “Of course, I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be sorry. Be careful.”
    Another nod and Luis turned, departing the woven hut by the canvas door, leaving the two figures inside to converse by themselves.
    “You’re too soft on your men, outlander. I hope you know that.”
    Iain smiled at the good natured criticism, his still-youthful face now becoming creased with the lines of fight and flight. The months had been hard. But the Foresters were still unbroken. And if he had anything to do with it, would remain that way.
    “I know, John. But these men and women have been through a lot. It’s not my place to add to their burden. As long as they learn from their mistakes, that’s enough for me.” His eyes shimmered as he thought back to events that seemed almost a lifetime ago now. “This band is built on trust. It’s a family. The only family we have. You understand that…”
    John nodded, eyes solemn within his lined, bearded face. He did, more than Iain could know. He could feel the weight of years resting heavily on even his burly frame. The months of fighting, of running, of eking out an existence from the darkness of the Forest. Hunted, hounded, at all turns, by the servants of a King who should not even be in power. He thought back, so long ago, to that dark time, driven from their homes, on the march, fleeing the wrath of the tax-collectors who had come a-knocking, with their troop of hired soldiers, on the