Read Online The Beast of Maug Maurai, Part One: The Culling by Roberto Calas - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Roberto Calas
Ads: Link
son of a
third son of someone moderately important. ‘e was eaten.’”
Jastyn laughed. “Well matched,
hammer. But that’s a risk I am willing to assume. For the chance, the glorious
chance, to hear my name spoken before those of my brothers’ or cousins’. ‘Here
lies Jastyn the Mighty. Helped slay the legendary Beast of Maug Maurai. Brought
peace and happiness to the people of Nuldryn.” He smiled at the chiseled words
in his mind. “Now there’s a deathstone I could live with.”
Grae looked directly at Jastyn now.
What the man said was pure rubbish. His words were those of a man who has never
squared off against an opponent whose only goal is to kill you. All the
tourneys in the world can’t prepare you for that moment. Sir Jastyn’s presence
would make a mockery of Grae’s command. And it would make Grae’s second mission
a delicate struggle. That was a certainty. But Sir Jastyn was nobility. The
knight’s request merely a formality. And the Duke had already allowed it.
What’s one more innocent life ?
“Every man must march his own road,”
said Grae. “Come if you must, but consider it well. None of the men on this
squad have wives, sons or daughters. I don’t believe that is a coincidence.”
“Thank you, Brig Barragns,” said
Jastyn smiling. “I myself have no sons or daughters, so I should fit in well.”
They had circled back and were nearly
at their start point by the fence. Maribrae rose to her feet and looked to
Jastyn. Her eyes searched his.
“Uh … yes, then,” he stammered.
“There’s … ah … just one more favor I would ask of you, Brig Barragns.”
Jastyn is nobility.
Grae repeated this to himself and
silenced Hammer’s furious gaze with a squint. Jastyn was nobility. And the man
had Duke Mulbrey’s blessing. If Sir Jastyn wanted his songmaiden to come, there
was nothing that could be done. No matter how absurd or dangerous. Or asinine.
No matter how much it made a farce of the whole seemarken mission. No matter
how spoiled and callow this stupid, self-righteous ….
Grae let out his breath slowly.
Sir Jastyn is nobility.
Jastyn and his songmaiden had not
expected to leave until the next day, so they had not yet readied their
equipment. He invited Grae and Hammer to the castle for a meal while his squire
gathered supplies.
The four ate a fine meal of duck and
venison. The venison was from Maurai, downed on the outskirts of the forest
that morning, and it was the most succulent meat that Grae had ever tasted.
After they ate, Jastyn and Maribrae excused themselves to finish their packing.
Maribrae was done first. She sent
Jastyn’s servants off to prepare food for the road and slipped quietly into his
room. He stood with three suits of chain mail and two helmets before him, laid
neatly on the floor. Jastyn’s lips were set tightly as he stared at the
chainmail hauberks.
“Galarion couldn’t find a blackened
suit,” he said glumly. “Or a sallet helmet. I’ll stand out sorely among the
soldiers.”
“My love would stand out among them
if every one of you wore turnip sacks,” she said, walking between the suits and
Jastyn. He slipped past her and selected a mid-length coat, lifted it over his
head. Maribrae helped him into it, but not before trapping his arms high in the
sleeves and kissing him. When the mail was fitted, he stroked her cheek and
turned away again. She tried to follow him but he held her off with one hand as
he examined the two helmets. One was a dog-faced basinet. The other a simple
nasal helm with a chain aventail draped around the back.
“Neither of these fits as well
as my tourney helm. Or even my scrap tilter,” he said, and Maribrae stifled a
giggle at his pout. “But I would look a fool among the other men wearing a
tourney helm out there.” He lifted the nasal helm and stared at it glumly. “I
suppose this one is the least conspicuous. Lyndis Immortal, I wish Galarion had
found me a
third son of someone moderately important. ‘e was eaten.’”
Jastyn laughed. “Well matched,
hammer. But that’s a risk I am willing to assume. For the chance, the glorious
chance, to hear my name spoken before those of my brothers’ or cousins’. ‘Here
lies Jastyn the Mighty. Helped slay the legendary Beast of Maug Maurai. Brought
peace and happiness to the people of Nuldryn.” He smiled at the chiseled words
in his mind. “Now there’s a deathstone I could live with.”
Grae looked directly at Jastyn now.
What the man said was pure rubbish. His words were those of a man who has never
squared off against an opponent whose only goal is to kill you. All the
tourneys in the world can’t prepare you for that moment. Sir Jastyn’s presence
would make a mockery of Grae’s command. And it would make Grae’s second mission
a delicate struggle. That was a certainty. But Sir Jastyn was nobility. The
knight’s request merely a formality. And the Duke had already allowed it.
What’s one more innocent life ?
“Every man must march his own road,”
said Grae. “Come if you must, but consider it well. None of the men on this
squad have wives, sons or daughters. I don’t believe that is a coincidence.”
“Thank you, Brig Barragns,” said
Jastyn smiling. “I myself have no sons or daughters, so I should fit in well.”
They had circled back and were nearly
at their start point by the fence. Maribrae rose to her feet and looked to
Jastyn. Her eyes searched his.
“Uh … yes, then,” he stammered.
“There’s … ah … just one more favor I would ask of you, Brig Barragns.”
Jastyn is nobility.
Grae repeated this to himself and
silenced Hammer’s furious gaze with a squint. Jastyn was nobility. And the man
had Duke Mulbrey’s blessing. If Sir Jastyn wanted his songmaiden to come, there
was nothing that could be done. No matter how absurd or dangerous. Or asinine.
No matter how much it made a farce of the whole seemarken mission. No matter
how spoiled and callow this stupid, self-righteous ….
Grae let out his breath slowly.
Sir Jastyn is nobility.
Jastyn and his songmaiden had not
expected to leave until the next day, so they had not yet readied their
equipment. He invited Grae and Hammer to the castle for a meal while his squire
gathered supplies.
The four ate a fine meal of duck and
venison. The venison was from Maurai, downed on the outskirts of the forest
that morning, and it was the most succulent meat that Grae had ever tasted.
After they ate, Jastyn and Maribrae excused themselves to finish their packing.
Maribrae was done first. She sent
Jastyn’s servants off to prepare food for the road and slipped quietly into his
room. He stood with three suits of chain mail and two helmets before him, laid
neatly on the floor. Jastyn’s lips were set tightly as he stared at the
chainmail hauberks.
“Galarion couldn’t find a blackened
suit,” he said glumly. “Or a sallet helmet. I’ll stand out sorely among the
soldiers.”
“My love would stand out among them
if every one of you wore turnip sacks,” she said, walking between the suits and
Jastyn. He slipped past her and selected a mid-length coat, lifted it over his
head. Maribrae helped him into it, but not before trapping his arms high in the
sleeves and kissing him. When the mail was fitted, he stroked her cheek and
turned away again. She tried to follow him but he held her off with one hand as
he examined the two helmets. One was a dog-faced basinet. The other a simple
nasal helm with a chain aventail draped around the back.
“Neither of these fits as well
as my tourney helm. Or even my scrap tilter,” he said, and Maribrae stifled a
giggle at his pout. “But I would look a fool among the other men wearing a
tourney helm out there.” He lifted the nasal helm and stared at it glumly. “I
suppose this one is the least conspicuous. Lyndis Immortal, I wish Galarion had
found me a
Similar Books
