Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon Read Online Free
Author: Lynn Flewelling
longboat drew closer, however, the illusion dissolved. A mix of authority and ease emanated from her as she shared some joke with a tall rider standing just behind her.
She has what she always wanted, he thought with a rush of bittersweet pride. Just shy of twenty-two, she was a battle-scarred officer in one of Skala's finest regiments, and one of the queen's most daring raiders.
It hadn't given her airs, it seemed. She was out of the boat before it ground up on the shingle.
"By the Flame, it's good to see you again!" she cried, throwing her arms around him, and for a moment it seemed that she wasn't going to let go. When she did finally step back, her eyes were bright
with unshed tears. "How are Mother and the children? Is Watermead just the same? "
"We're all just as you left us. I have letters for you. Illia's is four pages long," he said, noting new scars on her hands and arms. Freckles still peppered her face, but two years of hard fighting had sharpened her features, stripping away the last vestiges of childhood. "Captain is it?" he said, pointing at the new gorget.
"In name, at least. They gave me Wolf Squadron, then sent me and my turma home. You remember Sergeant Rhylin, don't you?"
"I always remember people who save my life," Micum said, shaking hands with the tall man.
"As I recall, it was as much the other way 'round," Rhylin replied. "You took on that dyrmagnos creature after Alec shot her. I don't think any of us would be standing here if you hadn't."
The comments drew curious stares from the bystanders and Micum quickly changed the subject.
"I only count one decuria here. Where are the other two?" he asked, waving a hand at the ten riders who'd come ashore with them. He recognized Corporal Nikides and a few of the other men and women, but most were strangers, and young.
"The rest sailed with Klia. We'll meet up with them later on," Beka told him. "This lot should be enough to get us safely where we need to go."
She glanced up at the afternoon sky, frowning slightly. "It'll take a while to ferry our horses in but I'd like to cover some ground before nightfall. Can we get a hot meal in this place before we go? One that doesn't include salted pork or dried cod?"
"I've had a word with the innkeeper," he replied, giving her a wink. "I think he can come up with dried pork or salted cod."
"So long as it's a change," Beka said, grinning. "How long will it take us to reach them?"
"Four days. Maybe three if this good weather holds."
Another look of impatience creased Beka's brow. "Three would be better." With a last restless glance at the ship, she followed him up to the inn.
"Whatever happened to that young man you wrote us of last year?" Micum asked. "That lieutenant what's-his-name? Your mother's beginning to get notions about him."
"Markis?" Beka shrugged, not looking at him. "He died."
Just like that? Micum thought sadly, sensing there was more to the story. Ah, well, war was a harsh business.
The weather held fair, but the roads grew worse the further north they went. By the second day, their horses were sinking to the fetlocks as they plodded along what passed for roads in this stretch of wilderness.
Easing his bad leg against the mud-caked stirrup, Micum scanned the jagged peaks in the distance and thought wistfully of home. Little Illia, just turned nine, had been picking daffodils in the pasture below the house the day Micum left. Here, in the shadow of the Nimra mountains, snow still lingered in dirty drifts beneath the pines.
Beka still hadn't explained the exact reason for their journey, and Micum respected her silence. They rode hard, making use of the lengthening days. At night, she and the others recounted battles, raids, and comrades lost. Lieutenant Markis was not mentioned around the campfire, so Micum made it his business to get Sergeant Rhylin aside one morning when they'd halted to water the horses.
"Ah, Markis." Rhylin glanced around, making certain Beka was out of earshot.
She has what she always wanted, he thought with a rush of bittersweet pride. Just shy of twenty-two, she was a battle-scarred officer in one of Skala's finest regiments, and one of the queen's most daring raiders.
It hadn't given her airs, it seemed. She was out of the boat before it ground up on the shingle.
"By the Flame, it's good to see you again!" she cried, throwing her arms around him, and for a moment it seemed that she wasn't going to let go. When she did finally step back, her eyes were bright
with unshed tears. "How are Mother and the children? Is Watermead just the same? "
"We're all just as you left us. I have letters for you. Illia's is four pages long," he said, noting new scars on her hands and arms. Freckles still peppered her face, but two years of hard fighting had sharpened her features, stripping away the last vestiges of childhood. "Captain is it?" he said, pointing at the new gorget.
"In name, at least. They gave me Wolf Squadron, then sent me and my turma home. You remember Sergeant Rhylin, don't you?"
"I always remember people who save my life," Micum said, shaking hands with the tall man.
"As I recall, it was as much the other way 'round," Rhylin replied. "You took on that dyrmagnos creature after Alec shot her. I don't think any of us would be standing here if you hadn't."
The comments drew curious stares from the bystanders and Micum quickly changed the subject.
"I only count one decuria here. Where are the other two?" he asked, waving a hand at the ten riders who'd come ashore with them. He recognized Corporal Nikides and a few of the other men and women, but most were strangers, and young.
"The rest sailed with Klia. We'll meet up with them later on," Beka told him. "This lot should be enough to get us safely where we need to go."
She glanced up at the afternoon sky, frowning slightly. "It'll take a while to ferry our horses in but I'd like to cover some ground before nightfall. Can we get a hot meal in this place before we go? One that doesn't include salted pork or dried cod?"
"I've had a word with the innkeeper," he replied, giving her a wink. "I think he can come up with dried pork or salted cod."
"So long as it's a change," Beka said, grinning. "How long will it take us to reach them?"
"Four days. Maybe three if this good weather holds."
Another look of impatience creased Beka's brow. "Three would be better." With a last restless glance at the ship, she followed him up to the inn.
"Whatever happened to that young man you wrote us of last year?" Micum asked. "That lieutenant what's-his-name? Your mother's beginning to get notions about him."
"Markis?" Beka shrugged, not looking at him. "He died."
Just like that? Micum thought sadly, sensing there was more to the story. Ah, well, war was a harsh business.
The weather held fair, but the roads grew worse the further north they went. By the second day, their horses were sinking to the fetlocks as they plodded along what passed for roads in this stretch of wilderness.
Easing his bad leg against the mud-caked stirrup, Micum scanned the jagged peaks in the distance and thought wistfully of home. Little Illia, just turned nine, had been picking daffodils in the pasture below the house the day Micum left. Here, in the shadow of the Nimra mountains, snow still lingered in dirty drifts beneath the pines.
Beka still hadn't explained the exact reason for their journey, and Micum respected her silence. They rode hard, making use of the lengthening days. At night, she and the others recounted battles, raids, and comrades lost. Lieutenant Markis was not mentioned around the campfire, so Micum made it his business to get Sergeant Rhylin aside one morning when they'd halted to water the horses.
"Ah, Markis." Rhylin glanced around, making certain Beka was out of earshot.
Readers choose
John Ed Ed Pearce
Kallysten
Michael Richan
R. A. MacAvoy
Louis L'amour
Nicole James
Missy Johnson
Red L. Jameson
F. Allen Farnham
John Goldbach