Read Online Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four by Joel Shepherd - Free Book Online
Authors: Joel Shepherd
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young man,” he said, “I thought women were the toys of men. Now I find they are our masters.”
Sasha smiled. “Oh come, the world is not ending as fast as that, surely?”
The column resumed shortly after, Sasha taking her place with the Isfayen contingent in the vanguard. Great Lord Markan talked with an Isfayen scout, who spoke of a curious town several folds away that the Army of the Bacosh had passed through.
Ahead, the main vanguard climbed a small rise. Behind stretched the entire mass of the Army of Lenayin, tens of thousands strong. Finally, she grew tired of her own silence.
“Who would like to go for a ride?” she asked loudly. All Isfayen men in the group paused their conversations to look at her. Great Lord Markan broke off his discussion with the scout, and wondered at this curious humour. “Our scout tells us of a village, just over the hill yonder. I would like to see it.”
“The Bacosh forces occupy it,” countered an Isfayen lord. They had won their battle, he meant. Lenayin had lost its. Lenayin now suffered the shame of marching second in the column, and the Bacosh forces gained the privilege to occupy whatever town they liked.
“Nice day for a ride,” said Markan, squinting up at the sun. “What do you think, sister?”
“I tire of staring at the backsides of Rayen horses,” said Yasmyn.
Markan nodded, and gave a signal. Isfayen horses wove to the right, then accelerated to keep pace with their lord. In the main column, surprised faces looked across at them. At the column head, Sasha saw Koenyg, similarly surprised. He made a gesture, and someone pursued.
Koenyg's rider came racing across in front of them, signalling them to stop. Markan only smiled, long black hair and braids flying, and galloped his horse a little faster.
“What the hells are you doing?” Sasha heard Koenyg's rider yell above the noise. “The king orders you to fall back in line!”
“Isfayen tire of marching in line,” Markan said cheerfully. “We shall return shortly.”
“You shall return at once!” yelled the rider.
Markan's stare informed the rider that if there had been any chance the Great Lord of Isfayen could be persuaded to turn around, it was now gone. The rider slowed up in frustration, and the Isfayen thundered on.
Soon the pace slowed, and they rode across fields between small farmhouses. Tall hills rose in the near distance, with sheer, dark cliffs that reminded Sasha of Lenayin. Further along the hillside rise there perched a village, emerging above trees and orchards that covered the hills. As they came closer up the road, Sasha saw why the scout had found the town curious—there were larger buildings here than the typical little cottages. One was a temple, with grand spires. Several others appeared to be clustered together, and boasted ornamental spires or crenellations.
The approaching road wound through orchards as it climbed, and finally arrived at the gates of the town walls. As they rode within, Sasha began to recognise the buildings. “These are like the Tol'rhen in Tracato,” she said. On the walls were friezes of men building things and consulting maps. And on plinths within the walls, statues of learned men, and a woman. The woman was Maldereld, the serrin general who had led Saalshen's conquest of these lands two centuries before, and ordered the construction of these great institutions of learning. “Only far smaller than Tracato.”
Soldiers had been here. The statue of Maldereld was faceless, stonework smashed with deliberate effort.
“What manner of place?” asked an Isfayen, frowning up at the high walls as they rode.
“A place of learning,” Sasha replied. “Students come here from across the lands, to learn skills for their people. Medicines, building, farming, languages, history.”
“Fighting?” asked another man.
“Yes, these are Nasi-Keth,” said Sasha. “They learn to fight like me.” And the men of Isfayen looked far more impressed to
Sasha smiled. “Oh come, the world is not ending as fast as that, surely?”
The column resumed shortly after, Sasha taking her place with the Isfayen contingent in the vanguard. Great Lord Markan talked with an Isfayen scout, who spoke of a curious town several folds away that the Army of the Bacosh had passed through.
Ahead, the main vanguard climbed a small rise. Behind stretched the entire mass of the Army of Lenayin, tens of thousands strong. Finally, she grew tired of her own silence.
“Who would like to go for a ride?” she asked loudly. All Isfayen men in the group paused their conversations to look at her. Great Lord Markan broke off his discussion with the scout, and wondered at this curious humour. “Our scout tells us of a village, just over the hill yonder. I would like to see it.”
“The Bacosh forces occupy it,” countered an Isfayen lord. They had won their battle, he meant. Lenayin had lost its. Lenayin now suffered the shame of marching second in the column, and the Bacosh forces gained the privilege to occupy whatever town they liked.
“Nice day for a ride,” said Markan, squinting up at the sun. “What do you think, sister?”
“I tire of staring at the backsides of Rayen horses,” said Yasmyn.
Markan nodded, and gave a signal. Isfayen horses wove to the right, then accelerated to keep pace with their lord. In the main column, surprised faces looked across at them. At the column head, Sasha saw Koenyg, similarly surprised. He made a gesture, and someone pursued.
Koenyg's rider came racing across in front of them, signalling them to stop. Markan only smiled, long black hair and braids flying, and galloped his horse a little faster.
“What the hells are you doing?” Sasha heard Koenyg's rider yell above the noise. “The king orders you to fall back in line!”
“Isfayen tire of marching in line,” Markan said cheerfully. “We shall return shortly.”
“You shall return at once!” yelled the rider.
Markan's stare informed the rider that if there had been any chance the Great Lord of Isfayen could be persuaded to turn around, it was now gone. The rider slowed up in frustration, and the Isfayen thundered on.
Soon the pace slowed, and they rode across fields between small farmhouses. Tall hills rose in the near distance, with sheer, dark cliffs that reminded Sasha of Lenayin. Further along the hillside rise there perched a village, emerging above trees and orchards that covered the hills. As they came closer up the road, Sasha saw why the scout had found the town curious—there were larger buildings here than the typical little cottages. One was a temple, with grand spires. Several others appeared to be clustered together, and boasted ornamental spires or crenellations.
The approaching road wound through orchards as it climbed, and finally arrived at the gates of the town walls. As they rode within, Sasha began to recognise the buildings. “These are like the Tol'rhen in Tracato,” she said. On the walls were friezes of men building things and consulting maps. And on plinths within the walls, statues of learned men, and a woman. The woman was Maldereld, the serrin general who had led Saalshen's conquest of these lands two centuries before, and ordered the construction of these great institutions of learning. “Only far smaller than Tracato.”
Soldiers had been here. The statue of Maldereld was faceless, stonework smashed with deliberate effort.
“What manner of place?” asked an Isfayen, frowning up at the high walls as they rode.
“A place of learning,” Sasha replied. “Students come here from across the lands, to learn skills for their people. Medicines, building, farming, languages, history.”
“Fighting?” asked another man.
“Yes, these are Nasi-Keth,” said Sasha. “They learn to fight like me.” And the men of Isfayen looked far more impressed to
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