[Long War #1] The Black Guard by A. J. Smith

Author:A. J. Smith [Smith, A. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Action & Adventure, Fiction, Fantasy, Magic, Epic, Science Fiction, War & Military
ISBN: 9781781853825
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2013-06-30T23:00:00+00:00

PROLOGUE

The Brown chapel of Ro Canarn was never a warm or comforting place. It was cheap to build, cheap to maintain, and possessed few accoutrements of wealth or prosperity. It was the only building of worship in the city and, as such, was large and functional. It had also been the home of Brother Lanry for many years, though it was currently much more crowded than it had ever been.

The population of the city – those who had not been imprisoned or murdered by the knights of the Red and their mercenary allies – had sought refuge in the only building that even the invaders refused to violate. Lanry was glad that some things were still sacred and the knights had left his chapel and its several hundred new inhabitants alone. They’d stationed guards outside and taken careful note of the families that sheltered within, but had not sought entrance or questioned the cleric of poverty’s motives in allowing the common folk sanctuary.

‘Brother Lanry,’ said a child’s voice next to the old cleric.

‘Yes, Rodgar,’ he replied with an affectionate smile.

‘When can we go home? The stone floor is hurting my mum’s feet.’ The lad was no more than six years old and had not fully grasped what was occurring in his home city.

Either side of the old cleric were around a dozen children, ranging from youngsters who could barely talk to young teenagers. Many of their parents were either dead or captive, and Lanry would tell the children stories to keep them amused. The other adults in the Brown chapel were doing their best as well, but Lanry had a peaceful and fatherly quality that helped relax the younger citizens of Ro Canarn.

‘You’ll be home in no time at all, my dear boy,’ he replied, ‘and your mother can put her feet up in front of a nice roaring fire.’

A slight sneer from one of the older girls made it clear that not all of the children were as trusting as young Rodgar. The girl, whose name was Lyssa, was the child of a blacksmith – a man missing, presumed dead – and she’d developed a hard and uncaring edge.

‘I’m sorry, young Lyssa,’ said Lanry tenderly. ‘We all need different kinds of encouragement.’

‘We’ll never be able to go home,’ she replied, folding her arms and glaring at the old cleric. ‘We’ll be slaves… or worse.’

‘Now, that’s enough,’ said Lanry, by way of a gentle reprimand.

Rodgar sat up a little and looked at Lyssa with innocent eyes. ‘But Lord Bromvy and Lady Bronwyn are still alive. They won’t let us suffer… isn’t that right, Brother Lanry?’

‘That’s right, my lad.’ The cleric ruffled Rodgar’s hair and smiled. ‘The house of Canarn will not abandon its people.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Have I told you children the story of Lord Bullvy and Lady Brunhilde?’

A few shook their heads. The younger children looked up at Lanry, eagerly wanting a story, while the teenagers rolled their eyes. The Brown cleric had remained stubbornly optimistic and so far had chosen serenely to ignore the cynicism that surrounded him.

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