The Cavalier by Jason McWhirter Read Free Book Online Page A

room from the bedroom. The tension of their situation was evident on her face. Her eyes were swollen from crying and she was visibly distraught.   Lorna squatted on her knees in front of Jonas and held him at arm’s length. “Now listen, son. I want you to do exactly what Gorum has said. You must hide and stay hidden. Do not make a noise until the fighting is over.”
    “But…”
    “You will obey me,” she said, ending the conversation. “Gorum, do you have a suitable hiding spot for my son?”
    “Don’t you want to put him with the rest of the children and elders in the grange?” Gorum asked.
    “No, I want him near me and I do not trust how they would treat him.”
    Gorum nodded knowingly. “I have a place.” Gorum stopped sharpening the old blade, setting the sword on the heavy oak table next to him. “But it will be dark and dirty,” Gorum replied as he stood. “When the fire is not lit in my clay oven, there is a spot inside where a child could hide safely. It will be full of soot, but that may actually help conceal him and disguise his smell.”  
    They all walked through the back door and into his bakery. The large oven was just to their right, the heat from the clay warming them as they neared it. Gorum opened the iron door and dampened the fire.
    “I’ll put the fire out now so it has time to cool down. When the fighting starts, that’s where we’ll put him.”
    “What about you, Mother? Where will you be?” asked Jonas. The thought of hiding in that dark and dirty hole terrified him. But the thought of being separated from his mother was even worse.
    “I will be here, helping where I may. Don’t worry son, I will be right here with you the whole time. I would never leave you,” Lorna said, another tear dripping slowly down her cheek.
    ***
    Airos checked the gate one more time, making sure the solid oak bar was firmly in place. Satisfied, he moved along the northern wall, reassuring the men as he went. He was wearing his shiny silver breastplate with the High One’s symbol embossed on the chest. He wore matching greaves and forearm guards, both covered with intricate runes and symbols. His armor was polished so brightly, that, like a mirror, it reflected everything that was near. A beautifully crafted long bow was strapped to his back and his sword swung gently at his side. All the men looked at him in awe as he passed them, reassuring them with a pat on the back, a smile, and his very presence. He seemed to suck the tension out of the very air and replace it with calm determination.
    Airos knew the attack would come tonight; he could feel it. That was one of his many abilities, being able to detect evil, to feel it as it drifted through the air like a poisonous mist. Airos was not afraid, for death had no hold on him. He had given up his own personal desires many years ago to serve a greater good, to serve the High One who had picked him as one of His warriors. And he had served Him well.   He would live or die in His service, holding no regrets. He could wield magic and heal the wounded and sick. He could bring forth God Fire at will, an ability reserved to first rank cavaliers, the highest ranking among them. Airos was an expert swordsman and archer; in fact he had never met his equal with a blade.
    No, he was not afraid. But he felt a bit of unease, like he was missing something. The question that Braal had asked in the grange hounded him. Why would they attack this town? Was it really to feed? Or was there another purpose?
    He continued to ponder his discomfort, checking the southern wall of the town. All able-bodied men, women, and even children, were preparing themselves for the attack. He could see in their eyes that they were frightened, but he could do nothing but give them hope by his presence.
    Why would a Banthra be leading the boargs? It makes no sense, he thought. As far as he knew there were only a handful of Banthras that ever walked the lands of Kraawn. Why would they be