Saturday, May 2, 2015

Dreams of Steel - Part 1

Just to clarify, the book is separated out into sections labelled as "books," the first actual book in the series is called The Sword of Fire.


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BOOK I
Dreams of Steel

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Among those who surrounded Hairón, the Zemalnit, there were only two that were not surprised by his death.  One only survived him a few weeks; the other hid it well that he knew for the rest of his life.

Hairón, governor of a small republic of mercenaries known as the Red Horde, had enjoyed a bull’s health during his fifty-seven years of life.  But on the 10th of Anfiundanil he rose from bed with vertigo, ringing in the ears, and a leaden heaviness behind the eyes.  He opened the shutters for air and leaned out the window of his tower, which dominated the fortress of Mígranz, just as the fortress ruled the plain from its solitary bluff.  From the east advanced a mass of low-lying storm clouds. The terón, the great lonely beast that nested at the peak of the Spur, was lost above them flapping his giant wings.  Hairón thought his discomfort was due perhaps to the gloomy weather and that it would pass when the sun reappeared.

Far from altering his plans, he held a council with the ten captains of the Horde to discuss the coming campaign.  It was vital to obtain funds, as in the citadel supplies were already scarce, money seemed to have hidden under bricks, men whispered and at the slightest excuse used others' skulls to shatter tankards of beer.  The mission that was offered to the Horde was to participate in a tribal dispute among the barbarous Trisios horsemen, but whatever the task it would be like water from heaven and everyone expressed this save Kratos May.

“I would not advise it.  It is a journey of more than thirty leagues,” he objected, pointing toward the center of the round table.

There lay a large map of Tramórea, on which seas and mountains, rivers and forests appeared finely drawn, and cities were displayed as miniatures walled in proportion to their size and importance.  However, it was no more than a small copy of the model created by the geographer Tarondas, which one could admire in the library of Koras.

"I know these lands well," continued Kratos, rubbing his shaved head.  "When it's hot, the rivers will dry up, the little water left in them will be corrupted and we will lose more men from dysentery than by enemy arrows."

"We will lose a lot more if we do not bring gold to Mígranz sooner!" Aperión responded, making the table tremble with a slap.  "If you cannot propose anything better, shut your trap!"

Kratos snorted and, with a theatrical gesture, rolled up the sleeves of his arms and put his right hand on the hilt of Krima, his sword.  Everyone saw the gold armband crossed by nine red groves.  Kratos was, along with Hairón, the only Tahedorán of the ninth rank who sat at that table.  He never boasted about it...

...except to assert himself in front of Aperión.


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Part 2 of this meeting will be finished in the next post.

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