Rise of the Valiant Read Online Free PDF Page A

like to
accompany you, too,” Anvin said, his voice heavy with guilt. “The idea of your
crossing Escalon does not sit well with me.” He sighed. “But your father needs
me now more than ever. He’s asked me to join him in the south.”
    “And I,” Arthfael
added. “I would like to join you, too—but I have been assigned to join the men
south.”
    “And I to remain
behind and guard Volis in his absence,” Vidar added.
    Kyra was touched
by their support.
    “Do not worry,”
she replied. “I have but a three-day ride before me. I shall be fine.”
    “You shall,”
Baylor chimed in, stepping closer. “And your new horse shall make sure of it.”
    With that,
Baylor pushed open wide the door to the stables, and they all followed him into
the low stone building, the smell of horses heavy in the air.
    Kyra’s eyes
slowly adjusted to the dim light as she followed him in, the stables damp and
cool, filled with the sound of excited horses. She looked up and down the
stalls and saw before her rows of the most beautiful horses she’d ever
seen—big, strong, beautiful horses, black and brown, each one a champion. It
was a treasure chest.
    “The Lord’s Men
reserved the best for themselves,” Baylor explained as they walked, heading
down the rows with a swagger, in his element. He touched one horse here and
patted another and the animals seemed to come alive in his presence.
    Kyra walked
slowly, taking it all in. Each horse was like a work of art, larger than most
horses she’d seen, filled with beauty and power.
    “Thanks to you
and your dragon, these horses are ours now,” Baylor said. “It is only fitting
that you take your pick. Your father has instructed me to give you first
choice, even over his.”
    Kyra was
overwhelmed. As she studied the stable, she felt a great burden of
responsibility, knowing this was a once in a lifetime choice.
    She walked
slowly, running her hand along their manes, feeling how soft and smooth they
were, how powerful, and was at a loss for which to choose.
    “How do I pick?”
she asked Baylor.
    He smiled and
shook his head.
    “I’ve trained
horses my entire life,” he replied, “I’ve raised them, too. And if there is one
thing I know, it is no two horses are the same. Some are bred for speed, others
for stamina; some are built for strength, while others are made to carry a
load. Some are too proud to carry a thing. And others, well, others are built
for battle. Some thrive in solo jousts, others just want to fight, and others
still are created for the marathon of war. Some will be your best friend,
others will turn on you. Your relationship to a horse is a magical thing. They
must call to you, and you to them. Choose well, and your horse shall be forever
beside you, in times of battle and times of war. No good warrior is complete
without one.”
    Kyra walked
slowly, heart thumping with excitement, passing horse after horse, some looking
at her, some looking away, some neighing and stamping impatiently, others
standing still. She was waiting for a connection, and yet she felt none. She
was frustrated.
    Then, suddenly,
Kyra felt a chill up her spine, like a lightning bolt shooting through her. It
came as a sharp sound echoed through the stables, a sound that told her that that was her horse. It did not sound like a typical horse—but emitted a much darker
sound, more powerful. It cut through the noise and rose above the sounds of all
the others, like a wild lion trying to break free of its cage. It both
terrified her—and drew her in.
    Kyra turned
toward its source, at the end of the stable, and as she did there came a sudden
crashing of wood. She saw the stalls shatter, wood flying everywhere, and there
ensued a commotion as several men hurried over, trying to close the broken
wooded gate. A horse kept smashing it with its hooves.
    Kyra hurried
toward the commotion.
    “Where are you
going?” Baylor asked. “The fine horses are here.”
    But Kyra ignored
him, gaining speed,