at last. Our country needs you, our people need you, Tarsha needs you.” Armeth’s voice faded and he looked at them patiently, waiting for an answer.
Cain looked at his friends as they sat in silence, contemplating what Armeth was asking of them. Slowly, one by one they looked up and nodded to him. Cain turned and said to Armeth, “We will go.”
The mercenary stood up, a look of elation on his face. However, his smile soon turned grave. “Thank you deeply for offering yourselves, no one else would dare such a task as the one the King has proposed. Tarsha is forever in your debt.” Armeth shook their hands and a broad smile parted his lips.
“Only one thing,” Cain said as Armeth shook his hand. “Why us? There are thousands of others you could have chosen for this.”
Armeth scratched his beard before replying, “Because a thousand other souls do not thirst for revenge like yours do. All of you have lost your families, your homes; you have nothing left. Abaddon has torn your worlds apart.
You are the only ones who will dare reach out across Tarsha and do whatever it takes to repair the threads of a broken Alliance. Your hatred for the enemy will drive you to the end. We need men like you with such a drive to help us win this war.”
Cain nodded meekly, satisfied with the answer. “So, what’s next then?”
“I will talk to Ethebriel and let him know that you have accepted. You and your friends may return to the inn. I will meet you there at sundown.”
He grinned and thanked them once again and left the arena with a wave.
Cain walked away from his friends and stopped at the foot of the stairs. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I hope we’re doing the right thing,” he muttered.
His friends approached him and Aaron rested a hand on his shoulder. “I know we are.”
The Warriors
T he sun’s setting rays shone through their inn room windows, hues of amber that danced across the timber walls. Cain and the others stood around a large table in the middle of the room and listened tentatively to Armeth as he spoke. The mercenary had carried in an enormous bag and set it down on the table. As he spoke, he pulled out its contents.
Rope, tinder, flint and steel, mats, blankets, cookware, water skins, and several other items were strewn across the table. He had brought in large packs for each of them and he began to pack the equipment into each of these. He pulled out several smaller bags of rawhide and set them on the table.
“This is your tack and bridle gear. And here is…” he fell quiet for a moment as he pulled out several more identical bags, “Your food. It should supply you for a few weeks if you ration it sparingly. Everything is dried and salted so it should keep fine.”
The bags were soon packed to the brim, bulging with equipment for a trip that no one knew how long would take.
“Ah yes,” Armeth said as he clapped his hands together, “before I forget, I have one more thing for you.” He walked out of the room and moments later entered with another man.
The man dragged behind him wooden poles with limbs branching off at various points. Pieces of armor were hanging off these limbs, glistening dimly in the evening light.
Armeth smiled as he saw their expressions and said cheerfully, “This is Locke, the master smith of Kaanos. He has graciously made these fine works of art for you on his behalf…” He grinned and nudged the smith in the side, “Right?”
The man jolted as if Armeth had awoken him and looked at him with exasperation. “Uh, yes…right,” he looked away from everyone in the room until his eye caught an attractive knot on the wall.
The benefactors of the armor walked toward them and admired the handicraft. Every piece was made of folded steel, polished and gleaming from hours of devoted care. They removed the armor from the poles as the smith glared at them, taking no care to mask his disdain.
Cain strapped on his armor one at a time, each
Cain looked at his friends as they sat in silence, contemplating what Armeth was asking of them. Slowly, one by one they looked up and nodded to him. Cain turned and said to Armeth, “We will go.”
The mercenary stood up, a look of elation on his face. However, his smile soon turned grave. “Thank you deeply for offering yourselves, no one else would dare such a task as the one the King has proposed. Tarsha is forever in your debt.” Armeth shook their hands and a broad smile parted his lips.
“Only one thing,” Cain said as Armeth shook his hand. “Why us? There are thousands of others you could have chosen for this.”
Armeth scratched his beard before replying, “Because a thousand other souls do not thirst for revenge like yours do. All of you have lost your families, your homes; you have nothing left. Abaddon has torn your worlds apart.
You are the only ones who will dare reach out across Tarsha and do whatever it takes to repair the threads of a broken Alliance. Your hatred for the enemy will drive you to the end. We need men like you with such a drive to help us win this war.”
Cain nodded meekly, satisfied with the answer. “So, what’s next then?”
“I will talk to Ethebriel and let him know that you have accepted. You and your friends may return to the inn. I will meet you there at sundown.”
He grinned and thanked them once again and left the arena with a wave.
Cain walked away from his friends and stopped at the foot of the stairs. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I hope we’re doing the right thing,” he muttered.
His friends approached him and Aaron rested a hand on his shoulder. “I know we are.”
The Warriors
T he sun’s setting rays shone through their inn room windows, hues of amber that danced across the timber walls. Cain and the others stood around a large table in the middle of the room and listened tentatively to Armeth as he spoke. The mercenary had carried in an enormous bag and set it down on the table. As he spoke, he pulled out its contents.
Rope, tinder, flint and steel, mats, blankets, cookware, water skins, and several other items were strewn across the table. He had brought in large packs for each of them and he began to pack the equipment into each of these. He pulled out several smaller bags of rawhide and set them on the table.
“This is your tack and bridle gear. And here is…” he fell quiet for a moment as he pulled out several more identical bags, “Your food. It should supply you for a few weeks if you ration it sparingly. Everything is dried and salted so it should keep fine.”
The bags were soon packed to the brim, bulging with equipment for a trip that no one knew how long would take.
“Ah yes,” Armeth said as he clapped his hands together, “before I forget, I have one more thing for you.” He walked out of the room and moments later entered with another man.
The man dragged behind him wooden poles with limbs branching off at various points. Pieces of armor were hanging off these limbs, glistening dimly in the evening light.
Armeth smiled as he saw their expressions and said cheerfully, “This is Locke, the master smith of Kaanos. He has graciously made these fine works of art for you on his behalf…” He grinned and nudged the smith in the side, “Right?”
The man jolted as if Armeth had awoken him and looked at him with exasperation. “Uh, yes…right,” he looked away from everyone in the room until his eye caught an attractive knot on the wall.
The benefactors of the armor walked toward them and admired the handicraft. Every piece was made of folded steel, polished and gleaming from hours of devoted care. They removed the armor from the poles as the smith glared at them, taking no care to mask his disdain.
Cain strapped on his armor one at a time, each
Similar Books
