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Smashwords
Category:
Fantasy
ISBN-10: 1466065826
ISBN-13: 9781466065826
In the deep of winter, Tshio Kion's company receives a mission to stop the recent rash of bandit attacks plaguing a warlord's territory, and save his kidnapped sister. But Traleau has doubts about his growing importance to the group, doubts that will force him to take decisive action when the mission takes an unexpected turn.
Excerpt
“The bandits are close.”
“Good, I was getting tired of watching snow turn to ice. I'll get the rest of the guys.” Rags rasped, pushing past Traleau down the stairs.
“Forgive him; like the rest of us, he has been terribly bored the past few days.” The Ambassador stood to his full height, made a show of dusting himself off, then smiled down at Traleau. “You know, when I first brought you in—”
Traleau winced at the memory of the man's heavy fist crashing into the back of his head the morning before he 'joined' the mercenaries.
“—ah, yes, sorry about that. But when I first brought you in, I'd never have guessed you'd last as a named man for a week, much less months. But here you are, one of us!” He calmly worked his way down the stairs, laughing a clipped laugh. Traleau took his time following behind, but regretted it when he found his leader standing in the archway at the bottom of the building, grinning at him.
“Hurry up, Cat's Eye. I have a good feeling about this one.” His eyes flashed, his voice quavered with a childlike excitement. “Something big is going to happen.” Traleau blinked, and Kion was gone.
As they'd planned, everyone piled deep into the darkest reaches of the tunnels and kept utterly still as the bandits approached. The urge to shout a warning formed a lump in the boy's throat, but before he could resolve that lump, the bandits had already unwittingly passed the point of no escape. With a collective roar that echoed off the walls of the tunnels, Kion's men surged forth at the surprised bandits and immediately began to cut a bloody swath through them, tired and lightly armed as they were.
The few that had the presence of mind and the time to react retreated; some, driven by fear, ran into the snow fields, only to be brought down by thrown weapons or arrows. A few brave, wise souls ran up the hills to take the high-ground, and Traleau followed suit, hoping something could be salvaged out of the sudden chaos. When he reached the top of the southernmost hill, he found fourteen bandits had managed to cut down their pursuers and under direction from two, the other twelve were hurrying up the steps of the ruins. One was a young man—no, a boy—who could not have been more than a year his senior. The other, a girl, had a regal demeanor about her despite the crude armor she wore and the cruder sword she brandished, but she also seemed to Traleau to be around his age.
“Are you the Lord-General's sister?” he shouted. The two turned to him with fear and anger in their eyes, and the boy forcefully ushered the girl into the building ahead of him.
“What, you think you're safe up there!?” a familiar howl pierced the air as Wind pushed Traleau aside, pried a heavy lance from the grip of the man next to him, and with a long step, hurled it up and through the window at the top of the tower, running two of the bandits through, their stunned stumbling and the weight of the shaft pulling them down and out the window, crashing into the snow below, the boy jumping back with a surprised yelp. He turned to Wind, his whole body shaking, his grip on his rusted, dented sword deathly tight. Wind removed his own spear from its sling and laughed.
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