Crusader: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Four Read Online Free PDF

thousand afoot?” A light chuckle came from the healer. “I wish them the best of luck.”
    Cyrus didn’t join the laughter. “They’ll present themselves, they’ll threaten, but Longwell says the outriders won’t make much fuss. This Kingdom, it’s the one by the sea—Actaluere, Longwell called it—it has holdfasts between the bridge and Longwell’s father’s lands. They may send armies out to halt us once they know we’re here.”
    Curatio’s eyebrow twitched slightly higher. “Do you think they’ll succeed, General?”
    The elf’s odd formality stirred Cyrus’s irritation. “Not if we’re careful, they won’t. But even a hundred men with no magic could wipe out an army ten times their size if they were to catch us sleeping.” Cyrus clutched the bread tighter. “We have a journey of several weeks across their territory. That’s a long while that they could cause us problems, and a very long time to maintain an all-hours watch, especially after a hard march every day.”
    “Good practice,” Curatio said, taking a bite of the thick, hard crust of his bread. “After all, we are here to season our young and inexperienced recruits.”
    “A march of several weeks, with the threat of attack hanging over us every hour of the day?” Cyrus looked at the bread in his hands and was suddenly no longer hungry. “That will season them, all right.” He stood, and looked over the stirring army. “I’d rather have peace from them, though, and stay at their inns, buy fresh food from their people, spread our gold around their realm on our march than seed their lands with sword and fire.” The sergeants of the army were shouting now, yelling their displeasure at the recruits, stirring them out of their stupors as the sound echoed down the shore.
    “Aye,” Curatio said softly behind him as the the noise of the rousing army carried on, “always better to have peace than war. But in my experience, it’s not always a luxury we are afforded.”
    It took another hour to get everyone fed and formed up to move. They reached the bridge after another hour’s walk, and took a break in the shade by the span. The stone bridge was wide enough to accommodate ten columns of their troops walking side by side. After the army was formed up again, Cyrus began the procession to lead them over. He kept his horse, Windrider, in front of the army, a few yards ahead of the rest of the mounted members of Sanctuary. The steady clip-clop of hooves against the stone of the bridge lulled him.
    It will not work, Cyrus. It can never be, you and I. For I am elf, and my life is long and my duties are as great as my sorrow. We will not, cannot be. Not ever. Vara’s words echoed over and over in his mind as the gentle wash of the water lapping against the supports of the bridge beat a steady rhythm in his consciousness. The sun shone down from overhead, but the salt air and sea breeze kept him cool, even in his black armor. Not ever.
    The sound of someone next to him jarred Cyrus, causing him to look up. As soon as he saw who it was, he relaxed. “You,” he said with a sigh.
    “Me,” Aisling said. Her hair was white, flush against the navy skin it framed on her face and an exaggerated amount of cleavage was on display under her traveling cloak, which was open. Her usual leather armor was gone, replaced by a cloth garment of deepest red that hugged her belly and her upper body.
    Cyrus stared at her, his expression in near-disbelief. “Are you wearing a bustier?”
    Her eyebrows danced up and her lips pursed in a smile. “I’m surprised you know what that is.”
    He looked away, shaking his head in annoyance. He hadn’t intended to give her any sort of encouragement. “My wife used to wear them.” He looked back, slightly uncomfortable. “From time to time.”
    “Oh?” Her voice trilled in interest. “You were married?”
    “A long time ago.” He turned his head to look at her, a little too much frost in his voice, even to him.