Harbinger: Fate's Forsaken: Book One Read Online Free PDF

reached behind him and
grabbed another instrument. It was a long, thin rod of metal that he used to
pull debris from deep wounds. He latched onto the next thorn and stuck the rod
down into the puncture. This time when he pulled, the barb came out cleanly.
    It took them
hours to remove all the thorns, clean the wounds and bandage them. “Well if
that wasn’t the biggest waste of my time …” Amos let his sentence trail into a
string of grumbles as he finished the last bandage. While he scrubbed his hands
in a bowl of water, he locked his sharp eyes on Kael. “See? If you hadn’t been
here to help, it would have taken me all blasted week. I wish you’d give up
this hunter nonsense and take your place as a healer.”
    They’d been
arguing about his future since the day he turned twelve. Usually, Kael would
cross his arms and remind Amos that hunting was his dream, and he had a right
to face the Trial of the Five Arrows. But not today.
    “Healing is your
love, not mine,” Kael said. He knew the words sounded hollow the second he
spoke them.
    Fortunately,
Amos didn’t seem to notice. “You shouldn’t scorn your gifts, boy. You have a
knack for healing. And sooner or later you’re going to have to face it.”
    He hated that.
He hated hearing it. So what if he had a knack? It didn’t change the fact that
his heart didn’t beat for it. He didn’t care about herbs or salves — he
wanted adventure! He wanted to fight, to defend the realm. Deep in the pit of
his soul, Kael was a warrior.
    But Fate told it
differently.
    “I’m going to
dinner,” he muttered. He didn’t wait for Amos to follow, but went straight out
the door.
     
    *******

    The noise in the
Hall was deafening — but then dinner was always the loudest meal of the
day. When the sky finally went dark, the Tinnarkians would put their boots up
and celebrate. Sure, they may have limps or scrapes or arms in slings, but at
least they’d managed to live through the day.
    Long tables
fanned out from the middle of the Hall like rays from the sun. A huge bed of
coals burned in a hole cut out of the floor and a dozen pots hovered above it,
their bubbling contents suspended by iron spits.
    This was where
all the food in Tinnark wound up: the pot. Most days, it was a mushy stew with
thick brown broth. But stews with berries in them usually turned a murky gray.
    Kael chose the
shortest line and grabbed a clean bowl off the serving table. There were few
jobs for girls his age. Besides getting married and having children, about the
only other thing they could do was cook. When he stepped up to the pot, the
girl who ladled his stew plunked it down without a care, splattering it across
his boots.
    He was used to
it. The girls teased him about his skinny limbs just as much as the boys did
— though never to his face. At least with a punch, he could stand tall
and take it like a man. But the girls waited until his back was turned before
they flogged him with their laughter. Which he thought might’ve hurt worse than
a blow to the gut.
    The hunters
claimed the seats closest to the fire — which meant Kael had to pass them
anytime he went to get a meal. He tried to ignore their jeers, but then Laemoth
stuck his leg out to trip him. He skipped over it — and Marc shoved him
for dodging.
    Hot stew sloshed
out of his bowl and onto the front of his tunic. They laughed, and normally he
would have been ready with a clever retort. But tonight he had worse things to
worry about. So instead, he ignored their name-calling and went straight for
his table.
    Amos and Roland
were old men, which meant they didn’t have to wait in line for food. By the
time Kael made it to the table, they were already arguing between spoonfuls.
    “You know what I
saw this morning?” Roland said as he leaned over his bowl, his wiry gray beard
nearly dipping into the broth.
    “I can only
imagine,” Amos grumped.
    “A raven sitting
outside my door. I walked out and there he was, staring me down