Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Movement along the opposite bank caught his attention.
A doe stepped cautiously from the trees, her fawn lingering close behind. She caught sight of him and studied him for a long moment.
Legion remained still.
Apparently satisfied, she walked to the stream and lowered her head to drink while the fawn ventured into the shallows, splashing at the water before bounding clumsily back to its mother.
A faint smile touched Legion's lips. The woods knew him and he preferred it that way.
He caught a trout and ate well that day. In the days that followed, fishing and the bounty from his garden provided all he needed. He had no desire to hunt, to kill any creatures in his forest.
A week or more passed in much the same way, Legion not counting the days simply enjoying them.
One morning found Legion outside the keep, an axe rising and falling in an easy rhythm as another log split cleanly in two.
The distant rumble of wagon wheels broke the quiet.
Legion rested the axe against the chopping block and watched a lone merchant guide his horse up the winding path.
It didn’t take long for him to see it was a merchant he was familiar with… Toggin, white-haired and weathered face from his endless years on the road. He moved slower than he once did, but there was still strength in his strides.
“Morning,” Toggin called with a wave.
Legion answered with a nod.
“I was hoping I'd find you home. Brought a few things I thought might interest you.”
Toggin yanked back the tarp that covered his wares. Rope. Lantern oil. A new whetstone. Leather gloves. A pair of finely crafted knives.
Legion picked up one of the knives. The blade caught the morning sun. He tested its weight and its balance.
“This one came from a blacksmith two villages north,” Toggin said. “Best steel I've seen in years.”
Legion nodded once. “I'll take it.”
Toggin continued to chatter as he waited to be paid. “Been a busy journey this time. Roads are full of travelers. Seems everyone has news these days.”
Legion laid several coins on the wagon.
Toggin gathered them with a grin. “Most of it is nonsense.” He tucked the coins into his pouch. “Though I did hear something that surprised me.”
Legion slipped the knife into his belt.
“Morra Mist.”
Legion’s hand stilled.
The merchant went right on talking, having failed to notice. “Some rumblings, though no one seems to know about what.”
Legion lifted his gaze. “What rumblings?"
Toggin shrugged. “Oh, you know how stories grow with every mile traveled. By the time they reach me, there's little truth left in them.” He climbed onto the wagon seat. “From what I hear Morra Mist is a peaceful isle with a good queen, though some would argue otherwise. Who knows what's truth and what's tale?" If I hear anything worth repeating, I'll let you know next time.”
With a snap of the reins, the wagon rolled out of sight.
Legion stood alone.
The woods had grown quiet once more. Yet the peace he had enjoyed these past weeks had slipped away with a single name.
Morra Mist.
Night settled over the keep with uncommon restlessness.
The wind arrived first. It whispered through the ancient oaks before growing into a mournful howl that pressed against the stone walls.
Legion lay awake, listening.
It was nothing more than a storm.
Rain began to fall, soft at first, then harder until it pounded the roof in a relentless rhythm.
Lightning flashed, lighting the room, then thunder split the air.
Another flash, this one blinding and another crash that felt as if it shook the stone walls.
Legion sat up. Something wasn't right. He had weathered storms on mountain passes, at sea, and upon blood-soaked battlefields. None had felt like this. The air itself seemed charged, as if waiting.
A deafening crack split the night.
This time it was unmistakable… the cottage trembled. Then the shutters burst open, slamming against the stone. Wind tore through the room, blowing out the fire and scattering ashes from the hearth.
Legion rose and crossed the room, reaching for the shutters.
Another blinding flash lit the chamber, and he froze as the wind and rain came to an abrupt halt.
The silence was absolute.
A woman's voice, clear and commanding, filled the chamber.
“War that conquers, thunder that roars,
The final strike when kingdoms fall.
By debt unbroken, by promise bound,
Hear my voice and heed my call.
I summon thee to me… Queen Eudora of Morra Mist.”
Legion stood rigid. The words echoed through him long after the voice had fallen silent.
Outside, a gentler rain and wind returned.
And he wondered what fate had in store for him.
Chapter Four
Torden
“Give me the coin and you might keep your life.”
The merchant stared at the sword pointed at his belly and sighed.
It had been a profitable journey until two fools stepped from the trees and decided to relieve him of his earnings.
“I haven't got all day,” the taller of the two snapped. “The coins.”
The merchant reluctantly reached for the pouch beneath his cloak.