The Guardian Stone (The Gods and Kings Chronicles Book 3) by Haywood Lee H

Author:Haywood, Lee H. [Haywood, Lee H.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Fanrasy, Epic Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, New Adult and College, Young Adult
Publisher: Free Dominion Publishing
Published: 2016-03-17T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

XIV

TRI-RAY

“Should we take him from the field?” yelled a voice, for a moment piercing the din of battle.

“No time,” replied another. “We have to keep moving.”

“But the enemy, they’ll desecrate the body if we leave him here.”

“He just twitched!” said a shocked voice.

“Keep moving!”

“I swear it, he’s alive!”

“Move forward, now. That’s an order!”

“Blessed be the gods!” the voice was frantic. “He’s on fire!”

Desperous thrust his eyes open, finding that a ripple of sparkling light was passing over his body. A dozen rangers, smeared heavy with the filth of war, were gathered around him. All looked at him with dumbfounded expressions. The light faded, then disappeared altogether, and like a phoenix, Desperous rose from the ashes of his former self, casting aside bloodied dirt and ravaged armor. He ran his fingers over his face, finding that the hideous wounds had been healed. The numbness of his wraith body lingered, but somewhere deep within the depths of his soul a fire grew. He clutched the Jeta Stone to his lips, drawing off its warmth. He nodded knowingly. He had become an agent of the Guardian’s will. So be it, thought Desperous, accepting his fate. It was time to get to work.

He assessed the situation quickly. The confusion caused by the hail of artillery fire had split the Luthuanian army in two. Carrions were flooding into the gap, driving a wedge between the ranks. The flanks of the army were exposed and a rout seemed likely.

“Men, to me!” ordered Desperous to the rangers.

The men hastily filed about Desperous, gawking at him like they were seeing a ghost.

“Yes...yes, my lord,” stammered a wide-eyed ranger. Another soldier hesitantly reached out and touched Desperous’s arm. One man could not shut his mouth, and stared slack-jawed in wordless disbelief.

“We must close the gap,” said Desperous, pointing with the edge of his Razorwind. The men nodded dutifully, and began to mindlessly stamp their feet. They were eager to move, eager to follow, if only Desperous would lead. They did not see the Desperous of old; that man was dead and crushed in the mire. They saw a wrathful spirit. They saw a man divinely ordained. “Once we begin, we don’t relent. We push straight through to the necromancer’s encampment. Follow me into the void, follow me to the succor of our comrades, follow me unified and as one!”

They charged, throwing themselves heedlessly into the breach. Desperous roared as he dove into the fray, unleashing a fury beyond the means of any mortal. The blades of his Razorwind hissed and popped as they pierced the air. A mist of blood and rotten flesh shrouded all.

The beleaguered soldiers on either side of the gap watched in disbelief as their champion worked through the haggard bodies of the carrions like a blade to ripe grass. It was as if a fiery apparition had risen from the earth and taken possession of Desperous’s body. There was something godly about his strength, and in mere moments, Desperous had cleared a path to the front of the Luthuanian lines.

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