For my parents, who have always encouraged me to do what I love.
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
i
1
The Forge
1
2
Terrace
11
3
The War Comes to Us
30
4
The Battle Begins
43
5
Battle for Nringnar’s Deep
52
6
Averting the Storm
63
7
Jailbreak
70
8
March to Kera
77
9
Stormguard
86
10
The Way of all the World
92
11
Tactics and Women
99
12
March for Terrace
108
13
The Retake of Terrace
115
14
Gunther’s Wedding
129
15
Tales of Heroes
136
16
Infiltration
143
17
The Battle for Amgid
154
18
Celebrate with Ale
161
19
Stagnant Tactics
168
20
The Other Side of Magnus
173
21
The Messenger Returns
181
22
The Champion
189
23
Word from Mohonri
199
24
Archeantus
206
25
An Unpleasant Affair
214
26
Sojourn in Tears
220
27
Aela
225
28
Grothingar the Mighty
238
29
Chess Games and the Forge
241
30
Silent Blades
248
31
Moonlight
257
32
Flight
264
33
The Battle of Dracynnval’s Pass
268
Pronunciation Guide
275
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my dad Andrew for spending hours discussing plot elements and characters with me, and to all of those that have taken the time to read any draft of this book up to this point. Because there have been a lot of them. Special thanks to my mother Alison and my friend McKenna for their editorial work and comments.
The Forge
It’s early spring which, in our area of the province, means rising temperatures, buying livestock, and a small continuing of winter’s snow. There’s a bitter chill in the morning air. Green and yellow blades of grass are slowly overtaking the snow and returning life to the ground that winter made barren. The river is cold and refreshing. Fish laze behind rocks, shielded from the powerful current. Dark green moss blankets the tops of rocks and provides a nice contrast to the white snow, the only thing anyone’s known for months.
The only reason I’m warm is because I’m next to a blazing fire, hitting hot pieces of metal with a heavy hammer. The chill has penetrated the walls of my forge. The burning coals quickly warm the structure, but not uncomfortably so.
I pull a rope to my left, which runs along a short pulley system and pumps the bellows next to the fire. With every pump, the coals glow brighter orange, sections of wood turn black, fall apart, and slowly disintegrate into white ash.
The heat emanating from the bellows forces a sweat from my hardened brow, the crackle of the coals casting an odd flickering shadow of my rhythmically moving arm. Many windows allow natural light to enter the large shop. A stone chimney rests directly above the fire, great bellows sticking off to either side. Large wooden beams cross the slanted ceiling. Racks of tools hang on the wall across from the fire, and right in between, I stand swinging my hammer at a glowing orange piece of metal.
The door creaks open and bumps a rack on the wall, shaking all of the hanging tools. My father walks in and shuts the door subtly.
“You beat me again,” he says, an accusing edge in his voice. His six-and-a-half foot form stands up straight and he folds his broad arms like he does when he’s telling someone off.
I simply nod and look at him mischievously. “I can’t let you get here first every time, can I?”
He grins and takes his hammer from the wall. “I’m getting old, Kadmus. I’m not as strong as I used to be.” His black and silver beard moves slightly with every syllable.
“Of course you are!” I smile. “You can still smith a much better… well, anything than I can.”
“You’re catching up, though,” he replies. “There’s not much more I can teach you, and you have many years of experience ahead of you.” He spots a note lying on the desk across the room and strolls across to pick it up. “What’s this?”
“It’s a note from Leon. He needs a new set of butcher knives.”
“About time. Have you seen his set? Deathly dull, some of them cracked. It’s a wonder he’s still been able to get his cuts so smooth.”
“Yeah. Right now I’m working on the plow for Neorm. He needs it so he can start on his fields as soon as the snow stops.”
“I might make a pot for your mother. She’s been complaining that ours isn’t big enough anymore.”
“That’s a great idea. I think all of us would appreciate a little extra in our helping at dinner.”
“Especially Nathaniel.”
I echo him with a smile, “Especially Nathaniel.” There’s a minute of silence where the only sounds are the small crackling of the coals and the banging of our hammers. I break it and say, “His birthday is next week, isn’t it? I have to get working on his present.”
“Making him something?”
“He needs a good new hunting knife. Thought I’d do it myself.”
“That’s thoughtful of you. Just don’t lose a finger on it,” he chuckles. He is, of course, referring to my two missing fingers on