The Chronicles of Kale: Dawn of Retribution (Book 2) Read Free Page B

so helpless—so fragile.
    “I have nothing but the utmost confidence that the man I bring him to will aid your friend to a full recovery,” Alden spoke while glancing toward the horizon. “We’re nearly there.” He extended an arm forward, aiming his finger in the direction of a faint glow in the distance.
    “And about time,” Illadar groaned. “My right buttock has gone numb ridin’ around on this saddle for so long.” He rubbed a palm against his backside.
           
    The camp was larger than Kale expected and consisted of many tall white tents. Men could be seen sitting around the coals of a sizable bonfire pit. The embers illuminated the area enough for rows of weaponry to gleam into view. Swords, spears, polearms, and maces were organized onto makeshift wood racks. Those who dwelled within this camp were nothing short of being prepared for battle at any moment.
    Kale’s horse trotted behind Alden’s and the familiar scent of ale drifted through the air. Kale cringed at the thought, still remembering the night in Braxle when he first tasted the bitter liquid.
    “Take a look at this, gentlemen!” An obviously drunken man bellowed as he pointed toward Neelan. “They brought us a wench!”
    The drunkard staggered in the direction of Neelan’s horse. His wide, sweaty fingers gripped around the reigns, holding Neelan in place.
    “Remove your hand at once!” Neelan shouted.
    “Watch your tongue, wench. You have no authority to speak to us in such ways. Now remove yourself from the steed and join me.” With every word the man spoke, his eyes rolled within their sockets as he fought to keep focus.
    “How dare you...” Kale leapt from his horse, finding it oddly difficult to catch his balance as the world around him shifted nauseatingly.
    The soles of his boots smacked hard against the dirt with each heavy step he took toward the drunkard. Without hesitation, Kale slid his fingers around the man’s neck, pinching tightly as he closed the space between them.
    “From this moment, you will keep away from her. Should I see you approach, or attack her with your drunken words again—it shall be the last you speak.” Kale’s voice was low, and angered.     
    A bead of sweat dripped from the man’s pale brow as he glanced from Kale to two other men who sat silently watching—grinning as though amused by the situation.
    A snicker broke the momentary silence and the man narrowed his glassy eyes. In front of his comrades, he had no intention of revealing fear.
    “How could someone like you possibly hope to defeat a man of my size?” He flexed his thick bicep before thrusting it up against Kale’s forearm. 
    Their skin clapped together at the force of impact. Kale dug the tips of his fingers firmly into the man’s fleshy throat.
    I won’t let go until I know she’s safe . Kale thought to himself as the hazy silhouette of Neelan took form in his peripheral vision.
    Something wasn’t right. His fingers had begun to tremble profusely and the flesh beneath his nails now felt as though it would split open at any moment. This was a sensation Kale had never before experienced.
    “Kale, please stop!”
    It was Neelan’s voice, though she sounded distant.
    “What are you tryin’ to do, kid?!” Illadar shouted as he lunged his sturdy body into Kale’s.
    Kale felt his knees buckle and his hip-bone slam hard into the sandy ground. Everything seemed foggy and surreal.
    “What’s wrong with his face?” Neelan questioned. Her palm brushed the strands of black hair from Kale’s forehead.
    Alden approached with an obvious look of frustration. “We must bring him and the sorcerer to see Konnar at once. He has been struck by a poisoned dart. These are the effects of Mechona venom. He is extremely lucky—the strike was not direct.” Alden’s brows were laced with beads of sweat and his jaw tightened.
    The drunkard gripped his neck in silence.
    Neelan gasped as she glanced up, taking notice of the oozing