The Weight of Honor Read Online Free PDF Page A

muscle, and he looked as if he had never been in battle. Yet, still, he had a proud look to him, and Merk was surprised to see him stare back with the same fierce, yellow eyes as the Watcher. The boy almost looked too frail to be here, too sensitive—yet at the same time, something in his look set Merk on edge.
    “Do not underestimate Kyle,” Vicor said, looking over as Kyle turned back to his window. “He is the strongest among us, and the only true Watcher here. They sent him here to protect us.”
    Merk found it hard to believe.
    Merk reached his post and sat beside the tall window and looked out. There was a stone ledge to sit upon, and as he leaned forward and looked through the window, he was afforded a sweeping view of the landscape below. He saw the barren peninsula of Ur, the treetops of the distant forest, and beyond that, the ocean and sky. He felt as if he could see all of Escalon here.
    “Is that all?” Merk asked, surprised. “I just sit here and watch?”
    Vicor grinned.
    “Your duties have not even begun.”
    Merk frowned, disappointed.
    “I have not come all this way to sit in a tower,” Merk said, to the looks of some others. “How am I to defend from up here? Can I not patrol on the ground?”
    Vicor smirked.
    “You see far more up here than you can below,” he replied.
    “And if I see something?” Merk asked.
    “Sound the bell,” he said.
    He nodded and Merk saw a bell perched beside the window.
    “There have been many attacks against our tower over the centuries,” Vicor continued. “All have failed—because of us. We are the Watchers, the last line of defense. All of Escalon needs us—and there are many ways to defend a tower.”
    Merk watched him go, and as he settled into his station, in the silence, he wondered: just what had he signed himself up for?

CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    Duncan led his men as they galloped through the moonlit night, across the snowy plains of Escalon, hour passing hour as they charged, somewhere on the horizon, for Andros. The night ride brought back memories, of past battles, of his time in Andros, of serving the old King; he found himself getting lost in thoughts, memories blending with the present blending with fantasies for the future, until he no longer knew what was real. As usual, his thoughts drifted to his daughter.
    Kyra. Where are you? he wondered.
    Duncan prayed she was safe, that she was advancing in her training, and that they would soon reunite for good. Would she be able to summon Theos again? he wondered. If not, he did not know if they could win this war that she had begun.
    The incessant sound of horses, of armor, filled the night, Duncan barely feeling the cold, his heart warm from their victory, from their momentum, from the growing army behind him, and from anticipation. Finally, after all these years, he felt the tide turning his way again. He knew Andros would be heavily guarded with a sitting, professional army, that they would be vastly outnumbered, that the capital would be fortified, and that they did not have the manpower to stage a siege. He knew that the battle of his life awaited him, one that would determine the fate of Escalon. Yet that was the weight of honor.
    Duncan also knew that he and his men had cause on his side, had desire, purpose—and most of all, speed and the power of surprise. The Pandesians would never expect an attack on the capital, not by a subjugated people, and certainly not at night.
    Finally, as the first traces of dawn began to break, the sky still a bluish haze, Duncan saw in the distance, just beginning to appear, the familiar contours of the capital. It was a sight he had not expected to see again in his lifetime—and one that made his heart beat faster. Memories rushed back, of all the years he had lived there, had served the King and the land loyally. He recalled Escalon in the height of its glory, a proud, free nation, one that had seemed undefeatable.
    Yet seeing it also brought back bitter