Free Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts by V. Lakshman Page B

volunteers?”
    Jebida smiled crookedly, “All of them. What did you expect?” He paused, a glint of pride shining in his eyes, then finished, “Tyrus and the queen’s party should arrive in Haven soon.”
    The smile was short-lived, though, as the firstmark’s eyes drifted back to the nomad line, and his mood darkened at the thoughts of magic being used against them. But Jebida’s loss to the demons and hatred of magic was no secret to the king. They both focused on the desert.
    The king replied, “The nomads will attack on the morrow with this storm.”
    “Aye, it is the wisest course,” Jebida agreed, “and hard on our archers. I do not underestimate their commander. Barbarian or not, he has attacked us with cold efficiency and camped well out of catapult range. Only the fact that our backs are to a cliff and we have water has allowed us to hold this long. Makes me wonder how they manage to stay camped at our door this long without the same.”
    * * * * *
    With the conversation between his father and the firstmark receding into the back of his awareness, Niall imagined what his first real battle would be like. So far, all the assaults against the wall had been warfare at range, the archers of First and Third Companies dueling with their counterparts from the barbarian lines.
    However, if his father was right, they would see hand-to-hand combat tomorrow. Niall ran his hand over the waist-high lip of the outer wall. The rough, gritty surface felt good against the hard calluses on his palm. Niall hoped to serve with Armsmark Rillaran. His heart beat hard at the thought of working the front wall, where undoubtedly the harshest fighting would be. Most on duty there were seasoned veterans, well versed in the art of repelling a siege.
    “Niall.”
    Niall gave a start at hearing his name. Shaking off the visions of battle, he found both his father and Jebida staring at him. He moved over to the pair, watching as Jebida nodded his massive head in answer to some command his father whispered.
    “Niall, I shall be down in the council room. Jebida has your orders for tomorrow.” The king clasped his son’s hand in an iron grip, apparently satisfied he would do as he was told, and confident in the firstmark’s ability to keep him safe. With a thin smile he walked across the battlements to the inner stairwell, heading into the deep coolness of the interior.
    The firstmark cleared his throat, motioning for Niall to come closer. “Well, my prince. You’ll be working with Captain Fenrith.”
    “Fenrith! Wha—?”
    “Silence,” snapped Jebida, fire in his eyes. “The first lesson a soldier must learn is to follow orders. Tomorrow you will be working under Captain Fenrith, supporting Fifth Company.”
    The boy dropped his gaze, disappointment etched in his young features.
    A conciliatory hand came up, clapping the young warrior on the shoulder as the firstmark continued, “I understand your disappointment, lad, but you are not yet experienced enough to stand at the point of the spear. It is not yours, but the lives of those next to you that are in jeopardy, as each would extend himself to protect the Imperial heir. You understand this?” A small smile escaped his lips, “You have my word I will do what is within my power to allow you a chance on the wall. Just be patient.”
    Niall nodded once, dejected. He knew Jebida would keep his word, but put little faith in the firstmark’s chances against his father’s will. He was too disappointed to think others might endanger themselves for him. “If you will excuse me, sir.” He saluted, right fist to chest, then spun on his heel, heading for the stairwell where his father had disappeared.
    Had he looked back, he would have seen a rueful smile on the firstmark's face, as if the veteran recalled a similar 'discussion' with his own armsmaster so many years ago. As it was, Niall could only focus on what tomorrow would
not
bring, a chance to prove himself a warrior in his