Read Online Tides of Blood and Steel by Christian Warren Freed - Free Book Online

Mountains. He tried his best to ignore the weather and snuck a glance at Venten. The older man seemed to be taking the raw power of the elements much harder.
    “This makes you appreciate summer,” he murmured with a laugh.
    Venten snorted a laugh. “It makes me want to find a warm fireplace and a jug of mulled wine. This type of stuff is for the young, not some crazy old man determined to get himself killed by following you around.”
    “What would my father say if he heard you now?” he asked. His tone was light, almost mocking. Aurec valued humor, especially during times of duress. Laughter and a warped sense of sarcasm often kept men warm and took the sting away from being far from home and in harm’s way.
    “Your father had his own foolish ideas I once followed. I doubt he’d be enthused with this mission any more than I am.”
    That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear, Aurec thought. “None of that much matters here, does it? Torval’s last outpost fell yesterday. The best way to stop these bastards is to cut their supply lines.”
    Cuul Ol approached from a stand of fir. Dull green branches drooped under the pressure from the coming storm. The Pell Darga war chief leaned heavily on a crooked walking stick. His eyes bore a feral gleam, making Aurec and Venten uneasy.
    “Prince Aurec, many weapons come,” he told them and spat. “Soldiers guard them. This will be hard.”
    “All battles are hard, Cuul.”
    The wizened little man nodded. A lifetime of constant struggle made him indifferent to the war raging around him. One might say he was born to this.
    “Are your men in place?” Aurec asked.
    “Yes. Enemy armor is thick. A tough battle awaits, hard victory. Our arrows will be ineffective.”
    “Just keep them busy long enough for us to get in and fire the wagons. My men will handle the heavy fighting.”
    Cuul Ol was insulted. “My people will do our part. You need not worry.”
    The young prince stared down into his counterpart’s hardened gaze and almost felt ashamed for assuming. He quickly decided the best way to handle the situation was to deal past it. “You understand that many of your people may get killed?”
    The Pell gestured around with his stick. “This is our home. We will fight and die if the Darga Keil demands it.”
    A nerve twitched in Venten’s neck. “What is the Darga Keil?”
    Almost reluctant to share his people’s lore, Cuul took a brave step forward. “The gods of the Pell Darga. We are their children. The Darga Keil created us. It is through their will that we live and breathe.”
    Venten stood in total shock. He knew of no race that still believed in the gods. That train of thought had steadily grown obsolete over the course of several centuries, thanks in large part to the rise of magic. People stopped believing. None of the great scholars across the lands bothered to figure out why. To hear the chieftain of the shadow people freely admit to his beliefs left Venten uncertain about a great many things.
    Aurec felt the same uncertainty, but lacked the willingness to enter into a theological debate. His focus was war. That the Pell were going to fight was all he needed to know. “Very well. Let us begin while surprise is still with us.”
    Cuul Ol flashed a toothy grin and slipped back into the surrounding trees.
    “I don’t know if we can trust him after that,” Venten admitted once the little man was out of earshot.
    “His beliefs are not our problem. Ready the men. We attack as soon as we’re in position,” Aurec replied.
    * * * * *
    Sergeant Haltaf marched at the head of the supply train with a perpetual scowl on his face. He’d been in the Wolfsreik for twelve years and burned at the thought of being relegated to escorting supplies. Piper Joach told him it was due to his seniority and proven combat record. Ha! Haltaf didn’t see it that way. He took this assignment with insult and a grain of salt. There was no honor to be had in guarding supplies. He