Free Tides of Rythe (The Rythe Trilogy) by Craig Saunders

were not yet aware of their own potential. The rahken nation let it be known that their homes were sanctuary for the hunted. The numbers of humans with fey eyes were growing.
    They had promised Tirielle A’m Dralorn an army should she return. It was not an idle promise – the rahken nation saw far into the future, but more importantly, saw further into the past than even the scrolls of the Island Archive.
    They could afford to be patient. They knew of the return, but they would fight for honour, and promises. Their time would come soon enough.
    Other continents carried on their petty struggles, unaware of the scythe hanging over their heads. To them, each battle was life and death – the fate of the world bears little importance when you are fighting for your life. Rythe itself was born of strife. Wars were commonplace on each and every continent but Lianthre, and even now that was changing.
    But some wars are fought because of pride, and some necessity.
    Some, though, are fought because of fate.
     
    *
     

Chapter Sixteen
     
    On Sturma, unaware of the future, its people struggled to hold back the tide of invasion from neighbouring Draymar. On Sturma, too far within its borders, forces of a more material nature clashed. The remaining Thanes battled the Draymar to a standstill, but without a rallying figure the war would not last long. The Thanes were too fat, too full of self-importance, to rally anything but instead sat back and watched their men die from afar, defending only what was their own and not the whole of the country.
    Slowly, the land was falling apart.
    Without a figurehead to lead them, the Sturman would fall, and with it, a once proud country.
    Should that happen, Renir would have no country to call his own.
    Untouched by the war, Pulhuth sat abutting the ocean, its waves gently lapping the shores in the east while waves of a more immediate nature broke against the surviving Sturman forces holding the tide at bay in the west.
    Within its walls, untroubled by rising war, Renir and his two friends waited, and prepared. 
    The waiting was soon to end. Time moves on.
     
    *
     

Chapter Seventeen
     
    While the three men sat in the Upright Horseshoe, supping their evening ale, Tirielle swore soundly.
    Her dress was torn, her once long and lustrous hair had become a chain. She had taken the fine blades gifted her by Fenore and the rahken s and cut it away . She didn’t think twice about it. No soul searching, no regret, she just cut her hair off and moved on.
    Hair was hair. She needed to appear as someone she was not.
    Ahead, the reason for Tirielle’s outburst rode closer still.
    Further west and south of Roth’s home scrub and scree gave way to tree and bush. By the time Tirielle noticed the change in the landscape, the drier ground underfoot, the way Dow lingered longer overhead, she looked back and could no longer see where the trees had left…
    Sweat dripped from Tirielle’s brow. It was not just the heat that was making her sweat. They were closer to civilisation now and the dangers they faced were different. A patrol of the Protectorate’s forces, quite common but still troubling, approached the armed convoy with their hands upon their weapons.
    It was not surprising. She should have thought of it sooner. On the main thoroughfare to Beheth, nine armoured warriors and one rahken stood out somewhat.
    Tirielle wiped the sweat clear and loosened her blades in their sheaths.
    “Quintal! To me!” she called, sure that the approaching patrol could not here her yet.
    The leader of the Sard rode to the caravan and pulled up alongside her.
    “There is no need to worry, lady. We can deal with this.”
    “And would you fight your way through the streets of Beheth, too?” asked Tirielle, her tone short. Even so, she did not reseat her knives against inside the sheaths hidden in the wide sleeves of her dress.
    Quintal merely laughed. “No, Beheth is a human city, with fewer Protocrats. Once there we will