A Wizard's Forge (The Woern Saga Book 1) by A.M. Justice

Author:A.M. Justice [Justice, A.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, fantasy
Publisher: Wise Ink Creative Publishing
Published: 2016-09-19T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16. Elesendar’s Landing

A soft rain falling, Vic unrolled her blanket on a bed of damp moss and sandwiched it between canvas to keep it dry. Around her, grass squelched as the patrol set up camp. Spring campaigns had seen them tramping through knee-deep mud, but the Lathans had pushed the border back to the edge of the Kiareinoll, thanks to an influx of funding that brought fresh troops and equipment to the front. Summer had brought rumors of a large enemy camp, but after days of searching, the Dagger hadn’t found a single Relman.

As she fished in her pack for a map, a lock of damp hair fell across her eyes. Cursing, she mumbled about cutting it off.

“I wish I had a mulla for every time I’ve heard you say that, and yet that hair only gets longer,” Geram chuckled.

“Why you don’t cut it is a mystery,” Maynon added, sauntering over. “I’ve been saying for years, a Relman could grab that braid.” Grinning, he snatched the plait at the nape of her neck, yanking her backward. Vic flung herself sideways, pulling him off balance, and kicked his feet out from under him. His grip on her hair still firm, she rolled with him to the ground, jabbing an elbow into his belly. With an oof, he let go, and she sprang up and returned to her pack.

Freeing the map, she said, “Can’t a woman complain in peace?”

Laughing, Geram offered a hand up to Maynon.

“I’d like to see you do better, fishlicker,” Maynon grumbled.

Still chortling, Geram shook his head. “I know better than to touch the hair.”

“Captain”—Silla emerged from the forest with an armload of firewood—“the logs will smoke in this rain.”

Vic looked at Geram, and he shook his head, said he hadn’t Heard any Relmans, same as the scouts hadn’t seen any. “Go ahead,” she answered Silla. “We may as well indulge ourselves.”

Silla dumped the wood, catching Maynon’s foot. Ignoring his complaints, she built the sticks into a little lodge over a pile of dry moss she’d scrounged from somewhere. “Damn rain,” she muttered as the kindling smoked but failed to light.

Maynon watched over her shoulder. “Maybe if you blew on them.”

“Maynon, you’re full of useless advice,” Vic said, preempting a round of curses from Silla. “Go patrol with Thrusher.”

With a nod, the pair left, and Silla’s shoulders relaxed. Seeing Geram chuckling, Vic went over and joined him beneath a large hoin frond he held over his head. “It isn’t funny,” she hissed.

“I know. But you should Hear them.”

“Shame on you.” Three days ago, Vic had caught her friends pawing each other behind a bush. Now they snapped and hissed like cats in an alley. The army would discharge them both if the affair became known.

“I told you this was coming. You should have transferred one of them last spring.”

Vic poked at the glistening turf with a twig. “If I’m the Blade, Mayon’s the hilt and Silla the crossbeam of the Dagger. They’re essential.”

“But you have me now.” He grinned.

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