The Eye of Everfell (Shadow Battles Saga Book 1) by Lewis Knight

Author:Lewis Knight [Knight, Lewis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knightvision Books
Published: 2014-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17: Valdemar

Valdemar tried to keep his impatience in check as Berke screamed on the ground. After all, the man was a trusted lieutenant and a fine soldier, and it wasn't his fault that his blood-slicked innards refused to stay inside his belly. Running into a pair of ferocious ponginas hadn't been on the agenda when the band of soldiers and trackers began their breakneck pursuit of Marcellus Admorran. The encounter with the enormous beasts had been quick but not without fatalities.

A massive pongina corpse lay a few yards away, riddled with arrows and gutted by blades. Even lifeless and with dark blood matting its wooly white fur, it still looked dangerous. Dangerous and entirely too large. The apelike face had stiffened with its jagged teeth clenched, enraged even in death. The hulking, wooly beasts had materialized out of nowhere, swiping with their long front limbs and bellowing their throaty cries as they struck with crippling blows. Ponginas were fiercely territorial, prone to violent attacks when encountering intruders. But they were rarely seen in the flesh, being solitary creatures that tended to favor the desolate peaks of the Dragonspine. It was Valdemar's cursed luck to run across the pair so close to the foothills.

Roua was in the process of slicing open the creature's chest. The man was a warrior monk from Aracville and formerly a cleric of Dayisun, the old Bruallian god of war and bloodshed. Though Aracville was forcibly converted to Divinity at Valdemar's insistence, they retained as many of their pagan ways as they could. A dark stripe was painted down the middle of Roua's face, matching his hairstyle: shaved save for a crest of raven hair in the center. His eyes were also lined with black, fixed in feverish concentration on his grisly task. It was tough work, but the black-robed warrior-priest finally triumphed. Sinking his arms up to the elbows into the steaming cavity, he emerged with the beast's massive heart. Dark blood streamed down his arms, drenching his wide sleeves as he lifted the crimson organ to his mouth and sank his teeth into it. Chewing ferociously, he grinned around the mouthful as he offered it to Nergui, a Bruallian soldier who refused with a mortified expression.

The other pongina had grudgingly retreated after taking grievous wounds, leaving a trail of trampled underbrush dappled with spattered blood in its wake. Valdemar had not bothered to pursue. Like the beast, he had lost enough for one day.

His scale armor rasped when he dismounted from his horse. The armor was elaborately ceremonial yet fully functional, etched with winding dragons in gold. An intricately carved dragon was featured on the crest of his iron-plated helmet, and a scarlet-lined black cape hung from his shoulders. A lord had to look the part no matter the task at hand, immediately distinguishable from those who served him.

The men stepped away as he fluidly unsheathed his double-handed daito sword, striding purposefully toward the mortally wounded soldier. Berke stifled his cries, gazing up at his warlord with agony etched on his face.

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