Slave To Rebel King

e smell of burning fire and new blood. Just yesterday, it had the sweet scent of wild thyme and the sound of Kael

underfoot, and how to connect with the huge, living land without saying a word. His life had been a patchwork of hot, sunny days, predic

m that made it sound like everything was going to end. It was nicknamed the Iron Harvest, and it c

eir crude hide shields, their polished obsidian blades they were twigs against a surging river, the courageous screams of his people muffled by th

ces. He saw Kael, frozen in the doorway of their cabin, a hunting knife gripped in h

the inevitable. Three fell, then four, their cold, lifeless eyes looking up at the cruel sun, the

e, and the world shattered into a dark hole ta

ible punctuation to his new existence. The sun, a malicious, molten eye in the heavens, seared his bare fle

andmarks, flanked by silent, armored specters whose faces were entirely devoid of humanity, hidden beneath visored helmets. The

e across the shuffling ranks. His mother's distant cousin, her once vibrant eyes now vacant, hollow pools reflecting only

hering darkness Kael. His brother, pallid and shaking, his small hands chafed

ruel bindings, a low, guttural moan rumbling deep in

d raging flames that created dancing, hideous shadows against the gathering dusk. The air here

iately identified by the scarred, savage terrain of his face and

lculated indifference of a butcher inspecting sheep. He went amid the ranks, pr

his body shouting a silent plea. He felt Kael shrink behind him, a small, del

arcus's chest like a branding iron, a nonchalant sign of own

d before dismissing him with a nonchalant, almost bored flick o

ream of defiance against the inevitable. He surged, chains shouting

My brother! You w

his knees on the hard ground. He slumped, wheezing, spitting gravel and b

Kael's small body resisting futilely, a desperate, wordless battle. Kael's eyes, wide wit

weak and reedy, was a

e part of his soul, but the distance expanded, the whirling dust gene

a mild throb compared to the excruc

ized within him, burning away all fear, all sorrow. He would locate

brick, for what it had stolen. He swore it, softl

one ignored. As the soldiers yanked him back, roughly, into the shuffli

? Like a rabid dog, s

truck directly in Marcus's gut,

g. From this day, yo

him, spreadeagled on the ground, his arms and legs pulle

g flesh, hot and metallic, overwhelmed his senses, bitter and nauseating, and a primal scream tore from his

t devoured him, but it was the humiliation that fes

nimal, a piece of property, marked and owned. But even as the iron bit deep, leaving an

mmitment to his brother, to his dead people, to the untamed warrior spirit within hi

towards the unknown coast, a coastline that felt as

wanted to engulf them all. Marcus marched, one torturous step at a time, his branded shoulder hurting, his e

his family, his freedom, his very name but

ast. This dog, he knew with sickening certainty, would one day dig

d and sorrow, guiding him toward an unknown