Southwind Knights

Chapter Three, Part 1

Chapter III: The Unicorn

A clump of cinders landed in Asher’s gaping mouth. He was vaguely aware of laughter as he woke up retching and spitting until he was red in the face. The soldiers were packing up camp, hustling about as though they’d gotten a full night’s sleep. Asher got the impression that—had he slept longer—they would’ve left him there to lie with the dead.

It was just after dawn, and his clothing was damp and cold. When he tried to stand, stiffness seized him from head to toe, and his face stuck in a wince. His thighs were raw, and his foot was tender, but the worst damage was done to his pride. If he weren’t too ashamed to speak, he would’ve asked if he should continue on the journey or just stay behind with the horses. The poor animals had all mutinied after the attack, refusing to take another southward step.

Galen turned up, the good half of his face battered purple. He changed Asher’s bandages and slapped him on the back. The foot hadn’t swollen much, so it fit back in his boot and took weight with minimal pain. He paid the Healer back with a meat pie. Galen thanked him and resumed his rounds through camp, redressing other wounds from the corocotta attack. No one mentioned last night’s events—or the dead—and soon everyone was assembled outside the grove. They stood in a row before Sir Victor, conspicuously short one man.

Victor had dressed for the occasion. His legs were still clad in lightweight leather, but he now wore a chain mail tunic that skirted his thighs and over that a silver breastplate, polished to a mirror. A shield was slung across his back, and his cleaned sword and dagger hung at the ready. A regal helm protected his head, tipped in the long, multicolored plumage of a bird-of-paradise. He held his strong chin high and surveyed the group.

The soldiers watched the looming cliffs, exchanging nervous quips. They were each dressed in mail plus whatever pieces of armor they could afford; Barian was plated from head to toe, and he hefted a wide battle-axe. Asher felt as though he had wandered onstage in the middle of a heroic play. He hid his face beneath his cloak’s hood.

“Ready ho!” Corporal Briggs shouted, and the soldiers looked to Sir Victor. Galen observed them from a slight distance, whispering to his mustang.

The trees rustled in the wind, and the horses muttered. Victor’s voice boomed. “Stiffen your lips,” he said. “After today our names will be known from Southwind to Northwatch.”

His gaze blinked to Galen and back.

“You all know the mission. In the Cove there’s a forest. In that forest is our unicorn. We will pass through the Cove and take cover under the trees, where we will be safely hidden from the Cliffs.”

Asher heard Victor’s words, but nothing registered as real anymore. Dragons, unicorns, forbidden lands, and a soldier buried dead. Real life—Southwind, his father, Finn—seemed so far away now.

“The Healer will act as our guide to and through the forest,” Victor said. “Do as he says. His commands are mine. Stick to the plan, and at all times remember: silence.” He looked into the eyes of each soldier before nodding to Galen to assume lead.

Galen patted his horse’s rump goodbye and stepped forward, head bowed but eyes alert. He strode past Victor and onward toward the cliffs without a backward look, gathering his cloak around himself. The company fell into line behind him. Asher lowered his hood and trailed after. The dragon-watch began.

                                                                 ★

Thanks for reading!                     Please vote if you're enjoying the ride!

                          visit www.beautifulbooks.com for more info