Nolyn by Michael J. Sullivan EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Michael J. Sullivan
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
THE ARROW OF DEATH
Nolyn Nyphronian stood in unrelenting heat and a cloud of biting flies,
contemplating philosophy—no small achievement in a rain forest where hot,
moist air made breathing a labor, and all things frantically rushed to become
dirt. Clothes rotted and metal rusted at baffling speeds. Leather turned green in
days; all else picked up a spotted black taint—jungle grime, they called it.
Everything everywhere returned to that from whence it came.
But in the Erbon Forest, the race to dirt is absolutely absurd. If the enemy
doesn’t kill us, the jungle will.
That reminded him of the popular, albeit fatalistic, adage among the
imperial legions that “The Arrow of Death is never seen.” Despite this theory,
Nolyn had always believed that when his time came, he would know. Now he
had proof. The scout he’d dispatched was returning, and far too soon to be
bringing good news.
Nolyn couldn’t remember the scout’s name. He’d met a lot of people
since transferring to the Seventh Legion. Three days traveling with a group of
twenty men hadn’t been enough time to learn much of anything, much less
everyone’s name. While the scout had been gone, the remainder of the
squadron had waited where a rare shaft of sunlight reached the forest floor.
None of them had spoken, moved, or so much as coughed. They were deep
inside the enemy’s territory—silence their only protection.
Cutting his way out of the brush, the scout was slick with sweat and
breathing heavily. The kid’s eyes were wide with worry, but no blood coated
his blade. The fear isn’t from having been attacked—not yet, at least.
“No outpost?” Nolyn assumed but wanted to make it official.
“Not just that, sir,” the scout said, then took a breath. “There’s no pass.
Cliffs just come together.” He looked back into the dense cluster of wagonwheel-sized leaves that had closed up, erasing all evidence of his passage.
“This is a box canyon, sir. There’s no way out ’cept the way we come in.
We’re trapped.”
That explains his quick return. Nolyn calmly nodded as if he received
such news every day. “Thank you,” was all he said.
I was right, Sephryn. We aren’t meant for each other. Never before had he
hated winning an argument. First Bran, now me. She’ll be alone—the last of
us.
Touching the braided leather strap around his wrist, a gift from Sephryn,
he wondered how long it would take for news of his death to reach
Percepliquis, and who would be the one to tell her. Maybe my father. That
brought a miserable smile to Nolyn’s lips. No—that’s what a real father would
do; that’s what a human being would do. Nyphron has never been either.
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