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

guess at a name, in case doing so blinded him to the truth he hoped to one day discover. He did his best to avoid imagining specifics, but it only fed the frustration in him that festered and bled, growing only worse with age. It was an agony not knowing anything, certain a piece of him existed somewhere that he might never get to meet, to hold, or to truly love.
    He had already lost the first fifteen years of his child’s life and could never reclaim them. The thought made him sick. His stomach roiled and he doubled over and pressed his cheek to the ground. He felt his face flush despite the coolness of the earth, despair sinking its talons deep into the flagging remnants of his spirit. His ears rang with the intensity of his whirling mind. For his indiscretion and one man’s spite, he had lost everything.
    Caught in his malaise, he failed to notice the approaching force until they were upon him. He cursed under his breath as he heard the booted steps come to a halt just a few feet from where he sat.
    “You trespass upon Lathahn soil. Stand and identify yourself and your purpose,” a voice demanded, its edge as threatening as the rasp of steel being unsheathed that preceded it.
    Arrin lifted his head slow, blinking away the dirt that clung to his eyelids. The collar at his throat warmed in instant readiness, but he willed it to peace as he spied the distinctive blue and gray tabards of Lathah on the soldiers before him.
    Swords and shields at the ready, the soldiers stood in a loose semi-circle. Three were positioned behind the main force with five foot spears set strategically between their cohorts, ready to thrust should Arrin act aggressive. All were armored in the standard Lathahn border patrol outfit. Hardened leather jerkins covered their torso and hung to mid-thigh beneath the tabards. They wore no helmets, visibility and speed far more important than heavy armor that would impede their movement. Not meant to engage hostile forces, they were simply a warning mechanism designed to return to Lathah should they encounter enemy forces.
    Their presence so far from the city confirmed what Arrin had already surmised: they knew nothing of the Grol invasion of Fhen. He raised his arms, fingers spread wide in a gesture of peace, keeping them from his sword. He had no desire to add their lives to his conscience.
    “I intend you no harm.” With no one specific to address, he told them all, uncertain of who had spoken and unable to see any obvious rank or insignia on any of the soldiers. “I bear grim tidings for Lathah. I must speak with Prince Olenn.” The man’s name was poison on his tongue.
    A dark-skinned warrior from the front rank drew a step closer, distinguishing himself from his men. “I am Sergeant Barold. If you’ve a message for the prince, I can deliver it for you.” He met Arrin’s eyes. “You still, however, haven’t told me who you are.”
    Arrin sighed. While he felt certain the young sergeant hadn’t been around long enough to know who he was, there were several aged veterans amongst his men who eyed him with a cold wariness that seemed to go beyond simple suspicion. He thought he recognized one he might have served with, but he was unsure. It had been a long and hard road since then, such memories ancient history in the grand scheme of his sorrowed past.
    He contemplated lying, but he knew it would only compound their distrust and possibly delay his warning. There was also no way to disguise the obvious fact he was Lathahn and living outside the walls. That alone marked him as outcast.
    Seeing no path but the one forward, Arrin gave it into the hands of fate. “My name is Arrin Urrael, exile of Lathah.”
    He watched as one of the older soldiers leaned into the sergeant’s ear and whispered. Another, the familiar one, gave him a shallow nod from the back ranks.
    His eyes never leaving Arrin, Barold listened until the soldier was done speaking. “It seems as though there is some confusion as