The Wrathbringer by Brenning Christopher G

Author:Brenning, Christopher G.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-04T00:00:00+00:00

Sylvia III

The village was a scant thing, the first of many they were likely to see. It was peculiar to note how common folk lived in Betanthia, in stone and wooden hovels, much the same as her northern kin. If not for a lack of tall pines and frigid air, one might not be able to detect much of a difference between their people. But Sylvia Stormguard cared little for similarities. To her, every Betanthian was an enemy, a lurking threat which could not be trusted.

She sat mounted, surrounded by Damien Dreadfire and the other warchiefs. Marvath was never far from her side, as she had come to expect. Arik Akselson, the reluctant Nothanek warchief, lingered behind them, himself looking on in uncertainty. Perhaps he felt safe in the presence of Rhivothi, proper warriors in their own right. Not that she could fault him for such a sentiment. It was the furthest south the Teb dweller and his kin had ever ventured, and Sylvia could not help but sense a longing for home in his gaze.

At least there’s one man here who understands his place in all of this. Bless them though, the Nothanek. Sometimes I feel they’re too pure for this world.

Thinking of the Nothanek brought back memories of Einarr, a face she had not seen in ages. She wondered how he fared throughout the winter in Skaginlef, and if he had found peace after a bloody year at war. The memories brought with them a certain bittersweetness, something difficult to describe. Sylvia felt deeply conflicted, both with her desire for his company, and resentment for his absence.

A man of his convictions should have more resolve. We’ve all had to do terrible things to appease the gods. Maybe his faith isn’t as strong as he lets on…

Her tangled web of thoughts was soon soured by the presence of Zander and his ilk. Unlike her complicated feelings for Einarr, Zander instead provoked only disgust, her face tightening into a ball at the sight of his filthy bald head.

“So, what are we waiting for?” Zander’s half-rotten teeth emerged like decaying fruit on the vine, bringing bile into the back of her throat. “There’s bound to be a little gold or steel hidden away here somewhere.”

“Patience,” Damien commanded, raising a hand. “We no longer have the safety of the Hinterwood at our backs. Here, there may be enemies lurking in every direction. We must find allies wherever possible.”

“Are you suggesting we treat with them?” Marvath Bonesplitter asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Damien answered confidently. “Every village and homestead under King Bethard’s thumb is a potential safe haven for our enemies, and we must take care not to leave ourselves vulnerable. There is no telling who may take us by surprise at an inopportune moment.”

“So let’s kill them all and be done with it,” Zander chimed in.

Overcome with irritation, Sylvia wheeled her horse around. “Do you listen to nothing Damien tells you, or are you too stupid to comprehend? If we raze this village, word will spread far and wide, and every village we come across will be openly hostile toward us.

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