Tracy Falbe - The Rys Chronicles 01 - Union of Renegades.pdf - Tracy Falbe - widez2

Union of Renegades

The Rys Chronicles Book I

Tracy Falbe

To Scott

Union of Renegades

Rising to his knees, Shan cried, “I did not know the power would cause

me such wretched temptation!”

The great old trees looming in the darkness absorbed the sound of his

tortured voice, but they had little interest in his painful discoveries.

The Rys Chronicles

Union of Renegades

In the Service of the Empire

The river crossing would be dangerous. The loss of some men and

horses could be expected, but the overwhelming numbers of the

Atrophane Horde would prevail. Dreibrand Veta was glad to lead the first

wave of soldiers across the water even though officers of his rank did not

usually put themselves at the forefront of battle.

But Dreibrand differed from the other lieutenants of the Lord General

Kwan. He needed to try harder. Nothing less than his exploits and bravery

would counteract the disgrace that burdened the Veta name.

The breath of horses and men steamed in the predawn chill of the

spring night. The water would be cold, but Dreibrand knew he would soon

have the heat of battle to keep him warm. He could feel the nervous

agitation around him. Although Atrophane soldiers had complete

confidence in their abilities, each man knew he would be vulnerable while

in the middle of the river.

Their only protection would be the darkness. The blare of trumpets and

thunder of drums that usually heralded the onslaught of the Atrophane

would not be used tonight. Quiet and darkness would usher the

conquerors into the Bosta heartland. The dawn would come, and the

Bostas would see their existence as a free people end.

Calmly, Dreibrand gave the order to advance. Lord Kwan had honored

him by allowing him to coordinate the crossing and decide the correct

moment to start.

The hooves of Starfield, the dappled gray warhorse that Dreibrand rode,

plunged first into the flowing water. Dreibrand liked being first. The

splashing of hundreds of riders and the snorting of displeased horses

warned the Bostas lining the opposite bank that the crossing began.

Dreibrand brought his shield up to his nose because arrows would soon

be flying blindly through the dark. In his other hand, his sword was out

and ready, waiting only to reach land and seek out the enemy.

Obediently, Starfield surged ahead and the water was soon flowing

around Dreibrand’s feet. The water jumped over the tops of his boots, and

he shivered from the sudden coldness that contrasted to the excited sweat

beneath his clothing and armor.

The twang and whistle of countless arrows soon sang through the air.

One glanced off Dreibrand’s shield and he asked the war god Golan to

spare him from lucky shots in the night. A few cries of pain rose from the

ranks, and one horse squealed from a terrible wound.

Dreibrand felt as if he was in the middle of the river for hours, although

he knew the river was narrow and shallow compared to the greatness it

achieved farther south. Finally the agony of anticipation ended, and his

horse lurched up the bank. Dreibrand yelled and water splashed in every

direction as the soldiers all around him rushed out of the water.

The Bostas swarmed on the shore, hoping to drive back the invaders

while they were still in the water. Fighters on horseback and on foot

hurled themselves at the Atrophane, and the crash of weapons erupted

loudly. The dark made the struggle desperate and difficult, and

combatants could barely see with whom they exchanged blows.

Knowing that only enemies could be in front of him, Dreibrand slashed

with abandon, cutting down anyone who defied him. His powerful steed

trampled and leaped over Bostas, and Dreibrand steadily gained a hold on

the muddy bank.

A bleak gray line emerged in the east and lighted a depressing scene for

the Bostas. Wherever the river could be forded, Atrophane soldiers pushed

across the water on their horses or on rafts, and twenty times as many

soldiers waited behind those already in the river. When defenders beheld

the very vastness of the Atrophane Horde, their hearts usually quailed, and

like those before them, the Bostas sensed the futility of their courage. For

decades now the Atrophane had been rolling westward, expanding their

Empire, and their reputation for victory was well established.

Despite a certainty of defeat, the Bostas decided that the Atrophane

would have to buy their victory with blood. More than able to pay, the

Atrophane smashed the valiant resistance and pushed the Bostas back

toward their stronghold. The relatively small force of Bosta defenders

could not repel the thousands of well-trained and heavily armed

Atrophane. As the Bostas retreated to rally at their fortress, Atrophane

foot soldiers were tripping over the thick sprawl of bodies on the

riverbank.

Assembling the soldiers specifically under his command, Dreibrand

charged after the Bostas just long enough to make sure they were serious

about their retreat, and then he relented. He had accomplished his

mission to win the opposite bank, and now he must secure their position

and wait for the rest of the Horde to catch up. The engineers would have

to ferry across the battering rams and assemble the siege engines before

they could advance on the fortress.

The day had barely begun and bits of fog still lingered along the river.

Panting, Dreibrand slung his shield over his back and pulled out a cloth to

clean the blood from his sword. The gleam of the expensive steel returned

as he wiped away the filth of battle. Nearby a soldier plunged a spear into

a wounded Bosta. Seeing his oncoming death, the Bosta had pleaded for

mercy. Dreibrand had come to know the word for mercy in the western

tongues.

After confirming that all was well, Dreibrand returned to the riverbank

to wait for Lord Kwan to arrive. The Lord General would be pleased with

him and the Bostas would soon be conquered.

The next day the fortress of the Bostas was captured and the local lord

beheaded. Sometimes the Atrophane maintained local leaders, but here on

the frontier, no regime was significant enough to employ.

Dreibrand had not even noticed the name of the town around this Bosta

fortress, and he did not care. Compared to the mighty city-states of the

east and the rich trading cities of the delta, these back country settlements

hardly mattered. The Atrophane had easily crushed the rudimentary

facade of civilization that the Bostas considered a fortress. The rams had

shattered the gates, and the stone walls had been too low to even challenge

the siege towers and ladders.

Enjoying the afternoon sunshine, Dreibrand sat on a campstool and

precisely shaved himself while his squire held a small mirror for him.

Dreibrand had a serious face with a heavy brow, and his bright blue eyes

advertised his intelligence. He had straight sandy hair that fell almost to

his shoulders, as was the fashion for Atrophane men.

The squire handed Dreibrand a towel and then dutifully cleaned and

put away the razor. After buttoning his shirt, Dreibrand pulled on his

quilted silk jacket that padded him beneath his armor. Lord Kwan would

be expecting a report soon, and he needed to get himself presentable.

Seeing that his master was ready, the squire grabbed the chestplate of

armor. Dreibrand stood up while his servant buckled the armor in place.

Like any squire, the youth was from a lower class and seeking access to

higher circles by serving important people. This squire always did a good

job, and Dreibrand found it unfortunate that his reference would probably

hinder the young man more than it would help him.

Maybe in his class his name is mud just like mine, Dreibrand mused.

“Sir, when will we ever go back to Atrophane? I have never felt so far

away from anything,” the squire complained and rolled his eyes at the

hopelessly rural surroundings.

“The adventure of riding with the Horde should not allow for

homesickness,” Dreibrand scolded with good nature.

“I think the adventure is over, Sir,” the squire said. The squeal of a pig

being butchered somewhere in the encampment marked his point.

Dreibrand looked around the sprawl of the army in repose. The red

fabric tents of the Lord General and his officers had been put up, and the

weathered tan tents of the common soldiers encircled the ruined town.

Many soldiers were getting their first bit of rest since entering Bosta

territory, and they reclined by campfires. Other men organized the

plunder of the Bostas. Although not as exciting as gold and jewels, the

foodstuffs, and leather goods, and furs were satisfying and valuable. The

soldiers had also divvied any stores of wine and beer that had been

discovered, but they would not last long among so many. Captives were

being sorted and held inside the remains of the stone fortress. Those that

were fit would be sent away to serve the needs of the Empire.

Dreibrand liked the Horde when it was this way, happy and satiated.

The drifting smoke from the defeated town marred the blue sky, but it did

not damage Dreibrand’s mood. To him the torn town represented the

bones of a small feast.

Turning back to his squire, he said, “The adventure is not over. Soon we

shall see the Wilderness.”

Politely the servant nodded, but he did not share in Dreibrand’s

fascination with the Wilderness.

Ever since Dreibrand had been a boy, the blank place on all maps of

Ektren, labeled only as the Wilderness, had captured his imagination.

Whenever life in Atrophane had been frustrating or unfair, his mind had

often retreated into the possibilities of that mysterious land. Supposedly

no one lived there, but he found that difficult to believe. He approached

the Wilderness now and he would soon know the unknown.

Tossing on his cape, Dreibrand strode toward Lord Kwan’s tent. He was

glad he had a spare pair of boots while the others dried out. When he

arrived at the large red tent of the Lord General, he could hear laughter

inside and he recognized the voice of Sandin Promentro. Dreibrand

frowned when he thought of the senior lieutenant exchanging pleasantries

with Lord Kwan. Naturally coveting the favor he received from the Lord

General, Dreibrand resented the competition from Lieutenant Sandin,

who had served Kwan longer than the other officers.

Tracy Falbe - The Rys Chronicles 01 - Union of Renegades.pdf

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