The Wasteland Soldier, Book 3, Drums Of War (TWS) Read Online Free PDF Page B

land? Daniel, her brother, had failed miserably in attempting to reduce it to ash. She furthered her gaze over its long arched windows and a sombre expression fell upon her face. The house had lied to them. It had promised to keep them safe. But it had betrayed them all.
    Plucking her knife from the wooden post, Quinn tossed it repeatedly, catching it each time by the handle, before slipping it into the knife belt worn across her chest. She was annoyed at her outburst, especially with Jeremy around. He had already endured far too much anger from adults in his young life. It was good he was spending more time with Deacon Rush. Though she despised all men of the cloth he was a young man with a more balanced viewpoint, seeing both sides of the same Holy coin.
    It was then she heard the crunch of heavy boots and the clank of armour and weapons. She saw a column of Churchmen soldiers march from the army barracks. The men wore metal helmets and studded tunics adorned with a large cross. Each man was fully armed; a bow, leather quiver bristling with arrows and a sheathed sword. Captain Duggan led the men. Quinn stood her ground as they struck a path toward her cottage. Was Jeremy right? Were they finally coming for her? Was this her time of reckoning? The Captain stopped and began to issue orders. The Churchmen dispersed, barely acknowledging her. Once his men were deployed around the village, Duggan greeted her.
    “Morning, Quinn.”
    “Captain.”
    He propped himself against her garden wall, took out his pipe. “Do you mind?”
    “I could do with a break.”
    “A break? Have you been sinning by working on Reverence Morning?”
    “I have,” she said. “And I thought you were coming to take me away.”
    “This is nothing to do with you.” He winked. “But one day I will take you away, Quinn, I can promise you that.”
    Chuckling, she fetched herbs from the garden, pinching them between finger and thumb.
    “There are some very clean and comfortable boarding houses in Touron.”
    “Is that another name for whorehouse?”
    He laughed. She drew her own pipe, filled it.
    “Anyway, you’re really not my type.”
    Smoke curled around his coarse lips. His face was crunched, scarred and weather beaten, his body stocky, muscular, hard; the perennial soldier, witness to all kinds of madness across the land.
    “Sal Munton?” she asked.
    “It was winter the last time his gang looted,” said Duggan, puffing. “I thought they’d turned over a new leaf or something but last week a merchant was robbed near Great Onglee. Had all his spices and coins taken. They broke his arm and crushed his hand. Vicious little bastards.”
    “So they’ve started again?”
    “Seems that way.” His dark eyes scanned the land. “Did I tell you Ossie is fat again?”
    Quinn, straddling the wall, shook her head.
    “What am I supposed to do?” he grumbled. “That’s number eight.”
    “You’re supposed to ram it up something that won’t give you babies. Won’t one of your men oblige?”
    Duggan rubbed his jaw, smoked. Quinn couldn’t imagine herself stuck in one place doing the same thing over and over again like his wife. It would be better to put a noose around her neck.
    “Congratulations,” she said.
    He raised his pipe.
    “What did Jeremy want? I saw him sniffing around. Is he still trying to convince you to go?”
    “He’s a good boy.”
    “He’s after your bush.”
    Quinn feigned disgust. “You’ve been a soldier too long. Did you see him with Pretan?”
    “Pretan can be a bit loose with his hands. Mind you, some youngsters need a clobber from time to time.”
    “Not Jeremy.
    “Did he tell you the Archbishop is coming?”
    “Yes, he thinks it’s because of me. Is it?”
    “It’s the time of the Summer Blessings. You know that. I’m riding to Touron tomorrow to escort him back here.”
    “Is that the only reason you’re going?”
    Duggan hesitated. “What do you mean?”
    “Nothing.” She cleared her throat.