Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen Read Online Free PDF

lines of men, few uniforms, and no oratory before a hushed crowd. The poor astronomer had no idea that people could bleed so easily or so much. No one knew where the generals were or what the objective was.
    Chaos was too clean a word for it.
    The third standard bearer for the Babliosian contingent of the vanguard dropped to his knees. One of the Pretender’s Imperial guards chopped him down like a sapling tree. The burgundy and gold banner fell from his limp hands and fluttered into the mud. Pinetto choked back the urge to vomit because his stomach no longer had anything left to offer.
    Despite the stench, Pinetto had been content hiding until he saw Sajika. His lady had witnessed the colors fall and decided to make things right. Her bolo streaked through the air and snared the beefy Imperial around the throat. As the soldier choked and clawed at his throat, Sajika moved in with her staff and inflicted a terrible punishment. She shouted with effort and rage with every strike. Eventually, her opponent tumbled face forward into the shallow waters, finished by the terrain itself.
    Rustic spearmen saw Sajika raise the banner of Bablios and charged her from all sides. Pinetto wanted to warn her, but another enemy Imperial stalked nearby, a few paces from his hiding place. Arrows and sling stones splashed around their position like hail, pelting friend and foe alike. Afraid to move, he closed his eyes tightly and prayed. “Save her. Save her, Bablios. Sajika is one of your truest faithful. Save her, and I’ll do anything you ask.”
    A voice he knew well bellowed above the din, and northern peasants were plowed aside. Behind the smith, Kiateran scouts poured into the breach. They formed a small, protective core around the banner and, for the moment, the center held. Just as the smith raised the magical sesterina blade over his head in a victory yell, the clouds let a ray of sunlight through to kiss the crown of his head. The crazed gleam in the sword-bearer’s eye made even his friend shiver.
    The enemy Imperial, who had just noticed Pinetto, was stabbed in the back by a holy dagger. Legato scooped up the man’s Honor—a knight’s sword with a numbered medal on the hilt, registered to a specific noble family. He was carrying three such swords as trophies.
    “It’s not supposed to be like this,” whimpered Pinetto.
    Legato stuffed the extra swords into an ox’s pack and stared at the astronomer like an insect he’d found in his beer mug. “Get your skinny ass up that tree,” he ordered.
    “W-why?” Pinetto asked.
    “You have the best eyes here and we need a fall-back position. Locate a defensible scrap of land somewhere near here. Preferably one that has water on three sides so we can make the bastards line up to die,” Legato snapped. When the astronomer still stood there, dazed, the prince ordered, “Move, maggot! Your friends aren’t going to last much longer unless you find us good ground.”
    Trembling and uncertain, Pinetto climbed. He didn’t even know people were shooting arrows at him until water from his pack trickled down his leg. When he froze in fright, Legato shouted, “Climb faster, damn you, or the next spear up your ass will be mine.”
    Motivated, Pinetto reached the highest branch possible before his weight bent it downward. Above the fray, he experienced a moment of peace. This wasn’t so bad, really. From here, he could ignore the fact that these were men. It took only moments to spot the ideal retreat. “Five hundred paces that way. Head north by northeast till you hit the river. Look for the rocks.”
    Legato rallied his men and summoned the banner to his side. The southeastern alliance ants, red and brown alike, began to pour around the trees and head for the stream. No one shouted louder to clear the enemy stragglers from their path than the smith waving the god-forged sword. Crowds parted before him and a growing multitude followed from behind. The sun disappeared behind a cloud once