Grudgebearer Read Online Free Page A

bile rising in her throat, Rae’en thrust her hands out on in front of her to keep herself from falling only to find herself head to muzzle with a Khalvadian warhorse.
    â€œWhoa,” said its rider, a stout human clad in armor made from hardened plates of boiled leather.
    â€œThat’s,” Rae’en said, looking down at the horse’s hooves, “a well-trained horse.” They were on the bridge, but only half of the horse was. On her right another horseman sat astride his mount, eyeing her with a mixture of suspicion and amusement.
    â€œYou need to back off of the bridge.” Her father’s words rang out in her mind. “Set foot” was the phrase he’d used. Technically the Khalvadians hadn’t set foot on the bridge; their horses had hooves, and a horse could not oathbreak . . .
    â€œBack up off the bridge and make camp like Kholster ordered and we won’t have to arvash you.”
    Looking back over his shoulder, the man saw the approaching ring of Aern and smiled. “There may be thirty of you, but you’re children. You have no weapons—”
    â€œTools,” she corrected.
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œWe have no tools,” Rae’en said, gasping for breath. “We are weapons. Plus, you brought tools. If we need them, we will take them from you.”
    â€œYou’re a brave girl,” the man said. “I’ll give you that.”
    Rae’en squinted up at him but could barely make out his face. Her vision dimmed, and she bit the inside of her cheek, drawing blood. Her world had narrowed to two choices: she was going to pass out if she didn’t let the Arvash’ae roll back over her and have its way.
    â€œMake camp and remain on the Khalvadian side of the bridge,” Rae’en mumbled. To her Overwatches, she thought: If we have to fight, yell for the non-combatants to throw down their weapons and kneel in the grass with their hands at the back of their heads so we don’t kill any who aren’t Khalvadian.
    She sagged to one knee, and the human dismounted quickly as though to catch her.
    His foot hit the wooden slats of Bridge 43, and Rae’en, by Kholster out of Helg, kholster of the Elevens, roared like an irkanth. If the soldier, whose name she would never know, had time to be surprised before she’d ripped out his throat with her teeth, she would never know that either. All she knew was the whinnying of the horse and the screams of the men, the howls of her fellow Aern, and the warmth of a belly full of meat.
    When Rae’en came back to herself, it was to the dull pounding of her still-aching head and to the panicked babble of the surviving humans, sounds of nervous animals, and the smiles of her fellow warriors. They had all taken the next step on their paths to adulthood and full warrior status to ranks other than age.
    Good job , she thought to Kazan.
    Everyone acquitted themselves well, kholster Rae’en , he thought back. With which tool will you choose to train?
    Whose scars are on my back, Kazan?
    A warpick, then , Kazan thought back. Traditional. I should have known. Can you believe it? Ten years to train with the tools of war, then we’ll build our own and bond with it.
    And then , Rae’en thought back, we’ll be true Aernese warriors . . .
    With the return of conscious thought came rough memories of what had happened while she’d been in the throes of the Arvash’ae.
    The whole fight sank in and she smiled. The two soldiers at the bridge she had taken down on her own, killing the first with her teeth and the second with the first man’s utilitarian blade. Nine of the fifteen guards lay dead, two of the merchants, and only one of the hired hands. She kissed her soul token, leaving a bloody smear. She couldn’t wait to show Kholster her memories of the battle and see what he thought.
    All at once, she remembered the surviving merchants and guardsmen.