Song of Simon by C. A. Sanders

Author:C. A. Sanders
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 9781629290430, Damnation Books, dark, fantasy, Amber, Sword, Songs, Music, Magic, War, Song of Simon, C. A. Sanders, Algavar, Gil, Stag, Wolf, Salmon, Eagle, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Magic Stones, Blood Magic, Ratlings, Rat Monsters, Oren, Ogres, Heroic, Heroic Fantasy
Publisher: Damnation Books LLC
Published: 2013-09-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

General Slen sat on his oversized bed and polished his sword, Sunset. He enjoyed doing this menial work himself instead of giving the task to a squire or lesser knight. It brought him back to less complex times, when all that he had to do was follow orders. Now he has to give them and deal with the furtive looks and grumbling that came with those orders. Even warriors as disciplined as the Burning Spear dislike being told what to do, and no one likes the man that does the telling.

Slen sighed. He missed his horse, how he would just ride for hours across the fields of the Great Northern Plains, feeling the beast’s powerful muscles underneath him and the wind blowing in his face, carrying the scent of newly fallen rain. He missed being able to ride, but no horse could carry the mass of his new body. Slen missed his wife and children too, but not nearly as much as he missed that horse.

Sometimes Slen felt like he might weep, though he never did. The Burning Spear does not weep, and he must always be an example to his men, who are in turn an example to all of Gil. To be chosen by The Queen of Love and Beauty to serve in the Burning Spear was considered the highest honor that a knight can receive. The cost is great—you pay with your own humanity—but you become the perfect warrior and the living embodiment of the Stag. Some may scoff at your choice while in their cups, but they would never deny the honor of your sacrifice.

As he rubbed down the hilt of his long, wavy blade, Slen thought of the day when he was first accepted into knighthood. He was so much younger then, younger and innocent of the betrayals of the world. He stood eagerly with his master, Sir Wiktor by his side. Lady Teretha—for she was not yet Queen—said the words of the pledge and Slen repeated them.

Slen had grown up with nothing. He was the bastard of a noble’s teenaged son, who after impregnating Slen’s mother—a young scullery maid—drove her from his household. Sir Wiktor saw something in him. He said that Slen could be something great and Slen believed him.

Wiktor was right, Slen thought. I am something great, and someday I will show him in person.

Slen hated Roctis most of all because of the place he had in Wiktor’s heart. Roctis was his first squire, and no matter how quickly Slen shined the boots or mucked the stables, he could never do it quite as well as Roctis.

Slen returned his sword to its scabbard. I would show mercy to Wiktor if I can, but there is no mercy in my heart for Roctis.

The day he was placed above all others—the day that the Queen of Love and Beauty chose him to be the first of her new elite warriors—that was the day that Slen knew he must kill his former master and the tagalong.

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