Breath of Heaven (Well of Sorrows Book 3) by Joshua Palmatier

Author:Joshua Palmatier [Palmatier, Joshua]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zombies Need Brains LLC
Published: 2016-06-30T06:00:00+00:00

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Vaeren, caitan of the Order of the Flame, ducked his head and hunched his shoulders, turning away from the blast of frigid air that screamed down from the Hauttaeren above, his hair whipping around his face and stinging where it lashed against his cheeks. As soon as it abated he swung back and shouted, “Boreaus, check the placement of the Order of the Flame. If they’re in position, have them begin the chant and lay down the lines of power now. Doublecheck their positions yourself. Petraen, swing by the gatehouse and make certain Orraen has men standing over the winches to the gates. Double the guard if you have to, but make certain they know to keep them open until the last moment. Peloroun needs to be able to get back inside, but they also need to be ready to close them at a moment’s notice.”

Both of the brothers nodded and tore away in opposite directions, neither responding verbally. Vaeren cursed the winds that were already drying out his throat, making his voice cracked and brittle. He worked some spit into his mouth and swallowed, reaching to check for his waterskin. He’d taken a swallow earlier, surprised to find that the cold air that had followed the passing of the leading edge of the storm had already begun freezing it.

He glanced upward again, the entire sky seething with bruised clouds skating southward. This was not a normal storm for this far south. It was more like the storms to the north, beyond the mountains. “The storms that drove us into the mountains and into this land in the first place,” he said to himself. A shudder ran through him, not brought on by the fierce chill air prickling his skin, but by something deeper, an ancestral memory.

The cold in this storm could kill. If the temperature dipped much lower—and he didn’t think they’d felt the brunt of the storm yet—it could kill even the Alvritshai.

A roar snapped his attention back to the wall and he stepped to the parapet and looked downwards, both hands braced against the stone for support. Far below, beneath the long, wide ramp that ran across the entire length of the wall to the gates to the west, he saw the combined Alvritshai Phalanx. Men from Ionaen, Licaeta, Redlien, and Uslaen—all of the eastern and southern Houses—were arrayed on the field. Forest had once come all the way up to the wall, but Orraen, Saetor, and Houdyll had spent the last month clearing it with a controlled burn. Under mostly Saetor’s direction, the lands had been turned and shaped for defensive purposes. Trenches had been dug, pits filled with stakes and then covered had been placed in strategic locations, all of it planned to pull the Wraith army in to their deaths. Saetor had been the natural choice to devise the plan, since he’d once been Khalaek’s caitan, commander of the House’s Phalanx. He’d never had aspirations to become a lord, had had the honor thrust upon him after Khalaek’s banishment, but he’d served his House well.

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