Free A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga) by J.T. Hartke Page A

attacking each other over and over again.” Slar reached toward Sharrog. “If we follow Galdreth’s lead, we can unite our people and regain a place of power equal to, even surpassing, that of the other races. Without Galdreth’s presence, we would never have gotten this far in bringing the clans together.” He grabbed his son’s shoulders. “What we might do here has not been done in a thousand years.”
    Sharrog spread his hands. “At what cost, father?”
    Slar did not answer. He simply shook his head. “You are too young to understand. I will see that you learn.” He took a step back. “You will soon have a taste of the battle you claim to crave. You will scream Galdreth’s name when you charge into it.”
    Sharrog tossed the piece of liver he had just bitten into back on the platter. He spit the chunk in his mouth onto the fire, where it hissed and spluttered away. “As you say, father.” He wiped his hands and face on a crimson towel. “I shall gather my grunts. We will march toward Dragonsclaw before the night is out. We shall be your eyes and ears along the western Dragonscales.”
    Slar wanted to protest. He wanted this feast to continue into the night, with more wine and women to join them later. However, the burning in his stomach soured the idea of more food, and his pride prevented him asking Sharrog to stay.
    Slar called to his son’s back as he stalked toward the stairwell. “You will have a place of honor in the host.”
    Sharrog turned at the door. “Perhaps. Only I will fight with the ancient warcries of the Boar Clan on my lips.” His blood red eyes met Slar’s. “And I will die calling out the name of my mother and father.” He marched away down the steps.
    Radgred tore into a chunk of mammoth loin and licked the grease from his skewer. “He will see reason.”
    Slar shook his head. “I fear he already does.”

Fear not to incorporate the pagan traditions of the people when teaching them of the Balance. It is through our harnessing of their ingrained symbology and calendar that we can more easily spread the Temple’s influence to those of all previous faiths.
    — Letters of Banelaw the Paladin to the High Elder Caladrion (122 A.R.)
     
    T he central dome of the Temple of Balance in Dadric did not spread wide enough to contain all of the townspeople. The situation required dozens of citizens to gather outside the circle of supporting pillars, huddled upon the grassy knoll on which the temple sat. Tallen Westar smelled the burning incense, but he heard only murmurs from the priest. If he stood on tiptoe, he could see the already bald young man swinging the censer. Behind Brother Benard, an older man in pristine black and white robes incanted prayers to the Balance, for good sun and plentiful rains to bless the fields this season.
    I’ve heard it enough times to recite the bloody prayer myself. Tallen sighed. At least Father Vernin is quiet and kind. We’ve had worse before.
    While Tallen listened to the priest drone on, most of his attention focused on the azure robed priestess of Water. Her exotic features enchanted him, with her almond eyes and chocolate colored skin. She hailed from the Southern Realm, near the border with Hadon, where Water worship remained quite common. Sister Jelena stopped by the Sleeping Gryphon once every summer to bless the grotto and pool that welled up behind it. She told Tallen once that it was ancient and holy. Alone of all holidays, the priests of Balance allowed the sister to join them in the temple for the Sowing Festival. Superstitious old farmers, whose purses the priests would dip into from time to time, considered it bad luck to ignore the Water Aspect at the Sowing Festival.
    If Sister Jelena only knew what the priests said about her after a few drinks in the Gryphon. With a shake of his head, Tallen turned his gaze to the crowd gathered around him. He noticed Jennette standing near the outer edge of the temple with her father, who still wore