Gods and Warriors Read Online Free PDF

find the words.
    They’d been friends for four summers, but always in secret, because Telamon’s father had forbidden his son to befriend an Outsider. Despite that, Telamon sometimes managed to slip away to see Hylas and Issi without anyone knowing, although he went through agonies of remorse about deceiving his father.
    At first, Hylas had been suspicious. What did this rich boy want with him? He’d soon perceived that Telamon didn’t want anything, except to be friends. They were very different, but maybe that was why it worked. If Telamon needed to make a decision, he considered theoutcomes carefully before he did anything, while Hylas thought fast and acted faster; he had to, or he wouldn’t survive. Telamon lived by the warrior code of honor, which Hylas only laughed at, although he secretly found it intriguing. Above all, Telamon had a father whom he loved and revered. Hylas couldn’t imagine what that was like. He’d never known his own father, and he’d never revered anyone.
    For four years they’d been friends without anyone knowing—except of course for Issi, who adored Telamon. Together they’d built their first raft, and learned to swim. Telamon had saved Hylas from an angry bull, and Hylas had hauled Telamon out of the cave of an irritated lioness. Telamon was a year older, and bigger because he got more meat, but Hylas knew more tricks in a fight. Telamon hated the fact that Hylas stole, he said it wasn’t honorable; and yet he never betrayed Hylas and he never let him down.
    But now, as Hylas watched Telamon inspecting the chariot for damage, he was struck afresh by the gulf between them.
    Telamon was the son of the Chieftain, and he looked it. His tunic was banded with scarlet at sleeves and hem, and his calf-high boots gleamed with oil, as did the sheath at his belt that held his knife. His long dark hair was braided like a warrior’s, with little discs of clay at the ends to stop them unraveling, and on his wrist hung his sealstone of polished red jasper, carved with a tiny boarwith bristles down its spine. His father had given it to him that spring, when he’d turned thirteen and started hunting boar. He had to collect enough tusks to make his own helmet, which meant killing twelve. So far he’d only gotten one; but he wouldn’t let Hylas help, because to become a warrior you had to do it yourself.
    “Telamon, what’s going on?” Hylas said abruptly. “Why are the Crows after Outsiders?”
    “The Crows?” Telamon looked startled.
    “The raiders, the black warriors! Why are they after Outsiders and no one else?”
    Telamon frowned. “I don’t know. Soon as I heard what was happening, I went to warn you. I—I found your camp.”
    “They killed Scram.”
    “I know. I buried him. It was horrible. I thought they’d killed you too. Then I found your tracks. I lost them, but I picked up Issi’s—”
    “She got away?” cried Hylas.
    “She was heading west, but I lost her trail too.”
    “
West!
And I’ve been going east! I thought she’d be bound to make for the village, or try to find you.”
    “We’ll find her, Hylas. She’ll be all right.”
    “She’s only nine summers old.”
    “They won’t bother going after a girl.”
    “But why hunt us at all?”
    “I told you, I don’t know!”
    “What d’you mean you don’t know?” exploded Hylas.“Your father’s the most powerful man in the whole of Lykonia!”
    “Hylas—”
    “He’s the Chieftain! He’s supposed to
fight
raiders! How can he
let
them hunt his own people?”
    Telamon’s dark eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning my father’s decisions?”
    “Or does he only protect villagers, and leave Outsiders to fend for themselves?”
    “Are you questioning my father?” demanded Telamon. His handsome face had gone stiff, and he was gripping the hilt of his knife.
    The thing about Telamon was that to him honor was everything. He wouldn’t hesitate to punish the least slur on his kin.
    “No,” snapped