Illuminare by Bryn Shutt EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Bryn Shutt
- Language: English
- Genre: Sword & Sorcery Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
DESMOND
Twelve days earlier
Somewhere in the Chantilly Isles
War is the color of three things—mud, blood, and tears. Still, they’d
called this the War of the White Poppy. But there was nothing clean or
snow white about it, only the Masque’s confident pride that the white flag
of surrender would soon wave over Voorst. The windmill capital of the
Chantilly Isles would fall and their resistance would go up in a blaze of
dragon fire. No one questioned the certainty of this eventuality. They only
waited for the when.
And no one waited more desperately than Desmond Edenry.
“Captain, sir!”
The sound so close by sent Desmond all but jolting in his saddle as he
ripped his eyes away from the sunless, smoky dawn. The smoke that rose
over the nondescript Chanti town before him was from hearths not
destruction.
Its burgemeester had heard what the Falcon knights had done to the
castles and villages before his. He’d no intention of a repeat. So, at the first
sign of blue-and-black banners topping his hillside, the man had thrown
open his gates and surrendered.
“Count Artair wants you. He’s up there.”
Desmond’s eyes landed on the speaker standing right next to his leg.
Chords. He hadn’t even noticed the boy approach. The page was breathing
hard and sputtering from his run. With one finger, he pointed towards the
small walled community and the lone white-stone windmill that towered
above it.
“Chords,” Desmond muttered, this time aloud. Swinging one leg up and
over his horse, he jumped down. The sucking feeling of mud as his boots
connected with the soggy earth sent a subconscious shudder down his spine.
“Here.” He tossed the page his reins. “Take him to St. Clair. Tell him to put
him with the others still recovering.”
Rounding his mount, Desmond gently ran a hand down the horse’s right
flank. A gash mostly turned to scar puckered in the skin. Any experienced
eye could tell it was a battle wound. A pike maybe, a broadsword?
Desmond didn’t remember. He just knew when he’d gone down, rolled, and
kept on fighting. He barely even remembered which battle it had been.
They just flowed one after another like a river with no end.
“Yes, sir,” the boy said, head peeking up over the pommel of the saddle.
Desmond could hear the sound of his feet in the mud as he eased off his
tiptoes and started walking back up the hill towards the Falcons’
encampment with the charger. Desmond started in the opposite direction.
Mud meant water. Water was everywhere here. The Chantilly Isles lay
scattered across the Salt Sea, the remnants of land that had once been an
empire. But the sea had claimed most of that land for itself centuries ago.
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