Read Online Descent of Angels by Mitchel Scanlon - Free Book Online

where Zahariel contended that it was the duty of each and every supplicant to help his brothers.
    ‘It’s a great honour for Brother Amadis to lead us on this hunt, isn’t it?’
    ‘Indeed it is, Attias,’ said Zahariel. ‘It’s not often we get to learn from such a senior knight. If he speaks, you must listen to what he says.’
    ‘I will,’ promised Attias.
    Another of their group rode alongside Zahariel and pushed up the visor of his helm to speak. The helmets the supplicants wore were the hand-me-downs of the Order and only those issued to team leaders boasted an inter-suit communications system.
    Zahariel’s helmet allowed him to communicate with the leaders of the other groups of riders and Brother Amadis, but his fellow supplicants had to open their helmets to be heard.
    The rider next to him was Eliath, a friend of Nemiel and companion in his mocking games. Eliath was taller and broader than any of the other supplicants, his bulk barely able to fit within a suit of armour. Though his flesh was youthfully doughy, his strength was prodigious and his stamina enormous. Though what he possessed in power, he lacked in speed.
    Eliath and Zahariel had never seen eye to eye, the boy too often taking Nemiel’s lead when shaping his behaviour towards his fellow supplicants.
    ‘Did you bring your notebook with you, Attias?’ asked Eliath.
    ‘Yes,’ said Attias. ‘It’s in my pack, why?’
    ‘Well if we do find a beast, you’ll want to take notes on how I gut it. They might stand you in good stead if you ever face one without us.’
    A tightening of the jawline was the only outward sign of Attias’s displeasure, but Zahariel knew it was a jibe that was somewhat deserved. The younger boy would carry his notebooks with him at all times and write down every word the senior knights and supplicants said, whether appropriate or not. The footlocker at the end of Attias’s bed was filled with dozens of such notebooks crammed with his tight script, and every night before lights out he would memorise entire tracts of offhand comments and remarks as though they were passages from the Verbatim.
    ‘Maybe I’ll write your epitaph,’ said Attias. ‘If we do meet a beast, it’s sure to go for the fattest one first.’
    ‘I’m not fat,’ protested Eliath. ‘I’m just big boned.’
    ‘Enough, the pair of you!’ said Zahariel, though he took pleasure in seeing Attias sticking up for himself and Eliath taken down a peg. ‘We’re training for a hunt, and I’m sure Brother Amadis doesn’t consider baiting each other as part of that training.’
    ‘True enough, Zahariel,’ said a sanguine voice in his helmet, ‘but it does no harm to foster a little rivalry within a group.’
    None of the other supplicants heard the voice, but Zahariel smiled at the sound of Brother Amadis’s voice, knowing he must have heard the exchange between the supplicants.
    ‘Healthy rivalry drives us to excel in all things, but it cannot be allowed to get out of hand,’ continued Amadis. ‘You handled that well, Zahariel. Allow rivalry to exist, but prevent it from becoming destructive.’
    Over the closed communications, Zahariel said, ‘Thank you, brother.’
    ‘No thanks are necessary, now take the lead and assume scouting discipline.’
    He smiled, feeling a warm glow envelop him at his hero’s praise. To think that a warrior as great as Amadis knew his name was an honour, and he spurred his mount onwards as he felt the responsibility of his command settle upon him.
    ‘Close up,’ he ordered, riding to the front of the group of supplicants and taking his place at the point of their arrow formation. ‘Scouting discipline from now on. Consider this enemy territory.’
    His voice carried the strength of conviction that came from the approval of his peers, and without a murmur of dissent, his squad-mates smoothly moved into position. Nemiel took up position behind him and to the left, while a supplicant named Pallian assumed the