Free the Darkness (King's Dark Tidings Book 1) by Kel Kade Read Free Book Online

Farson
would not have had time to make it to the stables to obtain one, nor would he
have been able to open the gates in the courtyard and make his escape.
    Rezkin was familiar with the battle charger from his
training. There had been times when each of the strikers had a battle charger
for use in training scenarios, but after he passed the Skills tests, the
other horses had been sold or returned to whence they came. At the thought of
the other strikers, he felt a sudden pang in his chest that he did not
understand. He was sure he had never felt it before. Perhaps he was injured during the battle, but he did not remember taking any hits to the
chest.
    After bathing, Rezkin applied a healing salve and wrapped
the minor flesh wound on his bicep. He stood before the costume wardrobe trying
to decide his strategy. What should he wear? Should he pose as a tradesman or
merchant? Posing as a noble might be difficult since he did not know where he
was going and could not set up a suitable cover story. Hmm…a landless noble
maybe? The third cousin of a minor lord? Rezkin shook his head. Farson was not
a noble, as far as he knew, so it would do him no good to use the pretense. A
trader perhaps? Not so wealthy as to attract attention but well enough to
command respect. No, then people would wonder about his lack of goods, and
traders did not ride battle chargers. He certainly did not want to drag the
packhorses around just to satisfy the image. Farson was a warrior. It held to
reason that he might seek out other warriors for protection or assistance or
simply for a crowd in which to feel comfortable.
    Rezkin could easily play the part of a warrior. Well, it
would not be a role, actually, since he was a warrior. At his age,
though, according to his masters…(again he felt that tightening in his
chest)…no one would believe him to be an officer unless he was a noble, which
brought him back to the problem of playing a noble. Rezkin could not afford to
get caught up in a draft or some lords’ boundary feud, so he could not be a
regular soldier. Hmm…a mercenary it was, then.
    Rezkin threw on a simple but well-made green tunic made of
fine linen and brown wool pants with a heavy leather belt. He decided to be a
successful mercenary and don good quality but not ostentatious leather armor
and heavy boots. He used a leather thong to tie his shoulder-length slick,
black hair into a queue at his nape. Lastly, he pulled a heavy dark blue cloak
about his shoulders and secured it with a decorative silver clasp embossed with
a black raven.
    Master Jaiardun had said that all mercenaries kept loot from
their exploits, so even poor mercenaries could be found wearing accessories too
rich for their station. Most of the loot, apparently, was sold to pay for drink
and women, from what his master said. It seemed like a waste of money to
Rezkin. Drink and women were so fluid, there one moment and gone the next
– at least from what he had heard. It did not seem like a sound
investment.
    After stuffing several changes of clothes into a bag,
including one ensemble fit for a noble and one for night stealth, Rezkin headed
down to the armory. Not having known what he would be doing earlier that day,
he had selected weaponry used for practice. The weapons were kept sharp and in
good repair, but they were not the best weapons in the armory. Since Rezkin
doubted he would be coming back anytime soon, he took his time to select the
best assortment available. At first, he wondered if he should collect his
masters’ swords from the yard, for surely they would be the best quality, but
then his eyes landed on a pair of swords that he had never before seen in the
armory.
    There was a longsword and a shortsword, a matching set, that
were of equal length to those he was most accustomed to using. The scabbards
were polished black with lacquer and unadorned. Pulling the longsword from its
sheath, he was nearly blown over with the splendor. The blade was streaked with
blue