Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four by Joel Shepherd Read Free Book Online

Ride to Tracato, to see its wonders preserved, its heritage protected, its people saved from the slaughter that Sofy feared could still descend across all these lands? To try and find a new balance between the invaders and the invaded?
    Sofy's heart leaped at the prospect.
    “My lord,” she said gladly, “I would be honoured.” And she hugged him, for all to see.
    The wagon was a misery. Andreyis sat propped against its hard side, and tried to keep his bandaged, splinted arm from jolting. Low cloud scudded across a gloomy sky, and showers cast a grey veil across distant Enoran fields. The wagon's one coat had been given to Ulemys, the Ranash man who lay upon the floor. Ulemys was dying, and his groans were more painful than the wagon's jolting upon Andreyis's arm.
    Four others shared the wagon with Andreyis, besides Ulemys. One, Sayden, was a fellow Valhanan, though from a village to the north that Andreyis had never heard of. The other three were from Hadryn, Tyree, and Yethulyn. There had been two more, when the journey had begun ten days before. One of those had been buried in a shallow grave, and the other, a Taneryn, had been burned on a pyre, as Taneryn customs dictated. It had been a struggle to gather enough dry wood in the unseasonal midsummer downpours. Andreyis knew that Ulemys would soon join them, as his gut-wound was smelling foul despite the serrins' medicines, and his deliriums grew worse. But for now, he could have the coat. It made the smell more bearable, for one thing.
    At lunch an Enoran rider threw some bread, fruit, and cheese into the wagon, and they ate. Soon after, Andreyis decided he would rather walk, and slithered one-armed off the wagon and onto the muddy road. He had always liked to ride after a meal, but with horses unavailable, walking would do. He recalled now those afternoon rides at Kessligh and Sasha's ranch in the hills above Baerlyn, sometimes with Lynette or Sasha, sometimes alone, with always an eye out for game or intruders, or a sudden change in the weather across the rumpled, sprawling landscape of Lenayin.
    He felt unutterably homesick. He had fought bravely at Shero Valley, but was now horrified at his own unmanliness when he awoke in sweating, heart thumping horror in the dead of night, thinking the battle still raged about him. A prisoner on the trailing wagon swore that he'd seen Teriyan Tremel, Andreyis's good friend and father of fellow ranch-hand Lynette, fall upon the field. Worst of all, he was a prisoner, and still alive, when most Lenays would rather die than yield to such a fate. At times, Andreyis envied his comrade Ulemys. For him, at least, the torment would soon be over.
    A serrin rider held to the side of the road, perhaps ten steps behind him as he walked. It was the girl again, the same girl who always rode guard along this stretch of the procession. With serrin, one could always tell. This girl had shocking red hair, swept back with a comb to one side and several odd braids, and sparkling blue eyes. She was pale, with a lean face and fine cheekbones, and utterly striking to look at. Several days ago, when Ulemys had been more aware, he'd cursed her when she'd given him food, and called her a demon, and thrown the food onto the muddy road. Andreyis knew better than to think the serrin demons, but he could see how a devout northern Verenthane like Ulemys might mistake her for one.
    She carried a bow, strung at all times. That was not good for bows. Andreyis was fortunate amongst the Lenay prisoners that his legs were unhurt—it was his arm, and a blow to his head, now healing though tender. He wondered if he dared take on the girl's bow, and make a dash for passing woods, or perhaps try and knock her off her horse. He recalled Kessligh saying that serrin women tended not to favour the bow as much as men…ironic, as Lenay men considered archery an unmanly skill, that it was the serrin women who favoured swords instead. Serrin bows required great strength to