Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1) by Nicholas Andrews Page B

Those cultists will trouble this place no more.”
    Nerris followed Rade back down the hill and toward the camp. It was much in the same state in which he left it; not one man in the ten thousand he commanded seemed to have heard anything which had transpired beyond the hill.
    “Don’t dwell on it,” Rade said to Nerris’s silence. He saw Nerris all the way to his tent. “Get some sleep, Commander. I won’t see you until Gelnicka. Don’t worry, me and my men will give you plenty of time to reach the battleground.” He disappeared with a cocky smirk and a wave.
    Despite what he said, Nerris did dwell on it. He undressed and settled back into his bedroll, his mind recoiling in horror every time he saw that man’s chest explode in his mind’s eye. But he was also overcome with feelings of peace and serenity when he thought of whatever had driven off those mad cultists. He dwelled on that instead, and drifted off with a smile on his face. This time, he rested well.

Chapter Six

    FALARES LED THE way through the North Gate, his plaited hair swaying as he slowed his destrier to a trot. Qabala followed, dressed in gleaming plate and a visored helm, surrounded by a dozen of her best sabres. Her wagon trailed behind, with all her possessions contained within: weapons, armor, treasure, and Meeka.
    Throughout the city of Palehorse, fires raged and women screamed as the men of the Horde took their pleasure. As they rode deeper, they came upon one such incident. A homely maid, her skirt hiked up around her waist, was being taken like a dog by one of Qabala’s militiamen. He was so intent on his pleasure he did not even notice their party. The maid looked up to them, and reached toward Qabala as if begging for relief.
    Falares kicked the man in the chest and sent him sprawling. “Away with you! Make way for Queen Qabala Aeterna!”
    The militiaman made a brief bow and caught his sobbing prize by the hair, dragging her farther up an adjoining road. Qabala watched them go, her lip curled in disdain. What right did a weak woman like that have to implore to her? She was much the same once, but had found the strength to rise above being a mere victim. The strong always rose.
    Palehorse had greeted them with defiance at their appearance, two days past. The Qabalan Horde arrived to find the gates closed, and the United Guard and the City Watch posted along the walls. Little had they known the rats were already inside the walls.
    Qabala surrounded the city and engaged in a feint against the south gate. As the undermanned forces of the late King Lahnen rushed to meet her assault, she sent up a smoke signal. Her people inside the city had responded in kind, creating a riot that drew the attention of the City Watch, while a force led by Lukas Kord stormed the North Gate, slaughtering all the sentries. He opened the way for Qabala’s men, who rushed into the city and took it from the inside, with casualties being too incidental to mention. The United Guard, however, had been eradicated.
    Falares and her sabres cleared a path as they made their way to the city’s west end, where the Aeternica loomed over all the surrounding buildings. She passed a city square, where the remainder of the United Guard kneeled under the presence of her own soldiers. With their hands behind their heads, they awaited her judgment.
    The main gate of the Aeternica stood wide open by the time her procession approached. Several men kneeled before her, the leader’s long silver hair hanging out from his blood-spattered half-helm. At a command from Falares, they rose. Qabala lifted the visor on her own helm to look upon them better.
    The leader removed his half-helm, revealing an older man with crow’s feet encircling his pale, blue eyes. He met her gaze and he grinned. “My Eternal, Palehorse and the Aeternica are now yours.”
    “Lukas Kord, you have done my people great favor,” Qabala said, “first with your information and assistance in the demise of