The Chimaera Regiment Read Online Free PDF

from your travels.”
    Aneirin smiled. “You do well, milord, for as they say, from Kyros are all strangers and beggars—and, a man ought to treat a guest and a suppliant as though he were his own brother.” His tone hinted at his displeasure to find Brynjar, a foreign suppliant, unmet and untended, but he did not reprimand the Alkimite lord. After the cold destroyed so many crops, his folk were in the midst of hard days—with more yet to come. Aneirin bowed his head slightly. “But I am not here to feast, milord.”
    Cyrus sat back down awkwardly. “Of—of course, milord,” he stammered. Glancing at Brynjar, he gestured again. “Perhaps you, milord?” he offered.
    Brynjar looked to Aneirin, who nodded. The Drengar hurried to the table and tore into a makeshift meal. The warrior was famished from his own journey, but Cyrus had not seen to his needs. The gods would not be pleased; but Aneirin hoped to assuage their ire before their displeasure cost the Alkimites everything.
    Cyrus turned back to Aneirin, believing his duties as host fulfilled. “How can I help you, sire?”
    Aneirin spoke softly. “Have you heard of the advance of the Leonites?” he inquired.
    Cyrus nodded slowly. “Yes, milord, I have heard some passersby speak of wars to the south. Do you fear they are approaching the Valley?”
    Aneirin nodded once. “They are, Lord Cyrus. The Alkimites are in grave danger, and they cannot stand alone. It is essential that we raise an army from these lands to stand against Derek and his soldiers.”
    Draus was a proud warrior. He interrupted, “If these Leonites dare attack our Valley, we will defend it to our last breath!”
    Cyrus gestured for the warrior to calm himself, but Aneirin addressed the fellow directly. “That is precisely what I fear, man. You will fight to the death, and it will be your death. Then Derek will lay waste to your village, ravage your women, and steal whatever remains. Is that truly your wish?” He glared evenly at the warrior. “Or would you prefer victory?”
    Draus scowled. His injured pride sought vainly for strength. “The Pass of Anthea will slow his forces. We shall ambush them in the Valley, and we shall crush them.”
    Brynjar interrupted around the leg of a turkey. “My people, the Drengari, we believed as you do,” he said, his voice echoing the pain that his memory wrought. “Lord Bayl was convinced that we could defeat the Leonites with our cleverness and our mastery of blade and bow. But the Leonites do not march alone.”
    Cyrus’ interest was piqued. “Do you mean the gods walk with them?” he asked.
    Brynjar shook his head. “Not the gods, but the gods would not do them much better.” He returned the turkey leg to the table unceremoniously. “They have united with a tribe called the Ferites, fierce warriors, and brave. The Ferites do not fear any man, and they have no reason to. There are no warriors in all the lands that can stand against them.”
    “Let us pray you are mistaken, Lord Brynjar,” Aneirin said pointedly. He did not think any man worthy of the claims of gods.
    “There is more, Lord Aneirin,” Brynjar said sharply, unaware that the Guardian already knew the strength of Derek’s forces. “Standing with the Leonites and the Ferites, in every battle, is a Guardian lord, like yourself.”
    “A Guardian lord?” echoed Cyrus, his voice cracked with astonishment. “Lord Aneirin, can this be? Are we betrayed by your own brethren?”
    “Do not ask him, Lord Cyrus!” Brynjar snapped, his temper besting him. He stormed across the court to shout his anger into the faces of the gathered lords. “I have seen it with my own eyes! The Guardian of the Leonites slew Lord Bayl, my master and mentor! He was as a father to me, and the Traitor cut him down like a mongrel!”
    “Brynjar,” interjected Aneirin, “calm yourself.”
    “I want my vengeance!” the warrior roared.
    “You will have it!” Aneirin countered. “One way or another,