The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons Read Free Page A

the men to fight well. He quickly hid his right hand under his tunic as it glowed a faint blue when he prayed. That secret few knew, as he had not studied old rites or hymns, or prayers at the temple; and his gift, little as it was, would draw suspicions from other families and perhaps the church. James had healed many a bad scratch with his touch, but nothing serious like the Aldane priests could do with prayer and effort. The fledgling warrior often wondered if it came from his mother or his father, neither of which he would ever know. He was one of the orphans, not born of the orphans of the keep, no, he was left on the road they told him, half mile from the gate, yet an infant. The Andellis family had room, and he was taken in by Sir Baril Andellis, trained for many years, and here today with the other six families of the keep preparing for a day centuries in the making, and centuries overdue.
    The men of Chazzrynn lined up, Knights of Southwind on horse in the front line, regular infantry sent by King Mikhail in the rear. His brothers of Andellis, T’Vellon, Alvander, Dunmoor, Mederris, Sancadiun, and Pellanan were all poised and focused on Lord Arlinne, and none made noise or even breathed it seemed. The pride swelled in James’ throat like something was stuck, immovable, and tears formed in his blue eyes. He made no motion to clear them, knowing full well no one was paying him mind. Arlinne spoke, “My sons and brothers, kinsman and countrymen, this morning, in Alden’s name, we will reclaim what was once ours!” pointing his drawn blade of gold and steel etched with falcon designs and a griffon crosspiece directly at the view of Arouland two miles ahead. Cheers went up, the noise felt like lightning and drums though there were none, James’ helmet drowned out anything but the sounds of determined yells and glorious howls of southern men. James drew his blade, the first of the line, and raised it high, shouting till the veins felt they would burst from his neck, and pointed it as well toward the capital of old Teirinshire. His gesture was followed by two hundred more on their steeds, whinnying of horses, and then shouts from the infantry behind. If the almighty Alden was watching and listening, surely his angels would feel envy for the cacophony roaring now , James thought as he turned his eyes upward. “Give no ogre quarter or mercy. They are beasts that have squatted and looted for far too long, and today we will ride them to the north or bury them in the west. Today we take back our lands from the wretched for king and Chazzrynn!” More cheering and yowls, clamoring of shields to all new deafening heights, and following the lords lead, they rode west down the hills toward victory.
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    Another rider went down to his left side, screeching pain of the steed and a muffled and watery growl from the knight as a spear as long as the horse itself penetrated the man’s chest. The ripping of muscle and ribcage could be heard for an instant and seen protruding red from his brother’s back a blink later as he dragged his mount tumbling to the earth. More spears, barbed and accurate, whistled through the crisp morning air and took down dozens of knights well before the outer walls of Arouland. James saw more than the hundred or so ogre he expected, there were twice that in view already. Many had armor pieced together, some wore shields, and they seemed a bit too organized for what he had been told. Still charging ahead, as the wind seemed to drive the animals without effort, he thought to slow and regroup. There was no trimming the charge; noises of trampling, yells, screams, and ogre tongued curses drowned any possible relay of conversation at this speed. The youth raised his shield arm higher, just in time for a spear hurled at his left side, the tip screeching past with a spark. Then another missed his horse by inches, and the shrill scream of pain echoed in his helm from whoever was behind