Dawn of War by Tim Marquitz Read Free Book Online Page A

the bands at his wrist. He knew so little of their magic, their potential. Like the staves he’d used to humble Fhen, he knew there was more to them, a way to tap into greater power. If he could only unlock their secrets, there would be nothing—no one—that could stand in his path.
    The meat that tore through his soldiers had to know how his magic worked to have so effortlessly dispatched his men. He must be made to spill his secrets, before Vorrul spilled his steaming entrails across the dirt for daring to challenge the pack.
    The warlord turned back to his general with a feral smile. “Send some of the Bloodpack and track the Lathahn down. I want him brought to me; alive.”
    Morgron nodded and turned to the closest black-coated warrior and called him over. He issued the order in rapid fire barks and sent the soldier away to do his duty.
    A group of five Bloodpack broke off from their positions by the palanquin and made for the tree line. Vorrul watched until they disappeared into the thick woods. Once they were gone, he turned back to Morgron.
    “Let the pack play until they’ve subdued the rabble, but have them ready to run right after. I want to be upon Lathahn soil before they know we’re coming. Leave a contingent behind to gather the meat and have them follow after. We’ll camp in the ashes of Lathah” The general acknowledged the order and waited for the next. It was quick to come. “Send a messenger to that rotting piece of dung, Rolff. I want his forces in place before we cross the border.” Vorrul dismissed his general just as his men arrived with his tribute.
    The warlord smiled as the meal was laid out before him. A dozen naked infants were set on the ground at his feet, their cries setting his lip to twitch. He could smell their terror. Its scent was as thick as the feces and urine that encrusted their lower halves. Blood pulsed warm through his veins, his hackles raised. Vorrul grinned wide in anticipation of his feast.
    He nodded with respect to the Bloodpack who’d brought the bawling meat, then waved them away with an impatient flutter of his hand. This was his feast alone.
    He didn’t intend to share.

Chapter Five
     
     
    Arrin felt the leaden weight of each step as he rounded the furthermost eastern point of the Fortress Mountains and crossed the border into Lathah. Though there was no discernable difference between the rugged forest landscape of Fhen and Lathah, there was an instinctual understanding that he had come home. It was a bittersweet feeling that filled him with joy and sorrow, in equal measure.
    Certain he had a sufficient head start on the Grol army, Arrin stopped, though for only a moment. It had been too long since he had tread upon the land of his birth. He could not resist its call.
    He dropped to his knees and ran his hands through the foliage gathered beneath the shade of the low-hanging canopy above. A chill sent goose bumps up his arms, tickling the nape of his neck. He breathed in the musky scent of the trees and let it flutter in his lungs. Handfuls of rotting leaves and dirt tumbled through his fingers as he reveled in the mix of emotions.
    Grateful to be on Lathahn soil, there was a prickle of nervous excitement at his defiance of the prince’s will and King Orrick’s mandate. In all his years exiled, he had never once gone against it, despite his daily yearning to do so. He had often stood just yards from the invisible line that marked the boundaries of Lathah, but had turned back each time. He had no fear of the prince, but only for what his presence might mean for Malya and his child.
    He sighed at the nondescript word: child. It was a pathetic replacement for the flesh and blood he had sired. He didn’t even know if he had fathered a son or daughter. Did it look like him? Did it sound or think like him? Would they know each other were their paths to cross?
    His head swirled with his thoughts. He hadn’t dared to let his imagination supply a gender or even