The Betrayed Read Online Free Page B

born in the world. Today, he was the leader of the rising, growing Movement of Feor and a commander of vast armies. And the world was yet to witness his true power.
    The Movement had burgeoned and spread like fire among the Caytoreans. The Ways of Feor were very simple, and they appealed to the minds of the common people. Feor was a very obliging god. He only asked for devotion. Nothing more.
    Feor was much liked by soldiers. He was their kind of god. He let them kill and rape and did not begrudge them for that. The old gods were cruel and demanding. And they imposed difficult moral rules on mankind. Feor only ever asked for people to worship him.
    In the beginning, the disciples of the new faith had been scorned by priests of other deities. But as the Movement grew and attracted throngs of followers, the resistance to the Ways became a real menace. The Feorans became hunted like animals. The old priests mustered mobs that would attack Feor’s people and burn his shrines. But the Movement was unstoppable.
    Within just a few years, the tide turned. Resentment and fury blistered among the common populace, the army chief amongst them. Soon, angry mobs found themselves facing real soldiers with steel weapons. The hunters became hunted.
    A generation ago, no soldier would have sworn by Feor. Within five years from the Awakening, one in five had become a Child of the Ways. Today, most, if not all, of the army followed Feor.
    There were rumors that the Movement was grabbing foothold in neighboring realms. Feor’s messengers walked the roads, unafraid, spreading the word of the new, merciful god who let men live true to their true nature.
    In the Safe Territories, Feor was a sacrilege. He had no shrines or followers in the Land of the old gods. But it was about to change. There was no denying the truth.
    A month ago, General-Patriarch Davar had summoned his garrison at Astar and issued a summons for a holy war. Less than a week later, they had marched out of the barracks, heading for the Territories. Other garrisons had joined in, a total of nine, spread all across the border. More than twenty thousand men had crossed into the Territories, bent on purging the old evils from the world.
    As expected, the Eracians had responded with a mobilization of their own. Standing regiments at Spoith, Decar, Tamoy, and other outposts had left the safety and comfort of their stone keeps and moved to meet the Caytorean forces.
    So far, the two nations had resorted to passive encounters, letting their scouts prowl the outskirts of each other’s camps. But there was no denying the blood-quickening anticipation of an all-out war sizzling in the air. The general-patriarch could not have been more pleased.
    Still, he was moving cautiously. His right flank was undermanned, and he did not intend to let the Eracians gain the upper hand in the first major clash in a generation. So he bided his time, waiting for reinforcement from inland.
    The public outcry among the Caytoreans had been relatively small, but Davar wasn’t one to be taking chances. He had ordered most of the city garrisons to remain put, making sure the merchants and nobles, the less fervent followers of the Ways, were not tempted to rebel against him.
    Meanwhile, his armies had advanced only a few miles into the Territories, burning a few villages. Davar was waiting for his longtime enemies before he made any serious moves. He bet the Eracians would cross the border into the holy land before the month’s end. And then, he could really strike out.
    The first big city of the priests was just five leagues away. Talmath was one of the pilgrim cities where people paid homage to their old, false gods. It was a big, ripe plum, ready for plucking, rich in spoils never touched by war. While most of Eracia and Caytor bore old scars of countless skirmishes, the Territories were as pure and sweet as a baby lamb.
    The prospect of plunder made his soldiers salivate. But Davar only cared for the holy