Free The Warlords of Nin by Stephen Lawhead Page B

wore a breastplate made of flat disks of horn that had been linked together with iron rings. A long red cape fell from his shoulders to the heels of his black boots. At his side he carried, as they all did, a curious curved sword with a thin, tapering blade honed dagger-sharp on both edges.
    â€œAnd I, too, have seen no soldiers. The villages offered no resistance, the blood of the stubborn ran red upon the ground, and their ashes ascended to heaven in your honor, Immortal Nin.” With that the black warrior touched his forehead and bowed low.
    â€œWhat land is this which builds no walls around its cities and leaves the small villages unprotected? Here is wealth for the taking, my warlords. We will push north to Askelon, and there I will establish my palace, so that I may be comfortable while bringing this land under my rule.
    â€œGo now and bring me word when the castle is mine, that I may come at once and take possession of what I desire. But do not make sacrifice of the king. I will have that pleasure for my own; his blood will flow for me alone. Hear and obey.”
    The four commanders saluted Nin and backed away a few paces. Then they turned, mounted their horses, and galloped off together. Nin clapped his hands, and the attendants sprang forward to begin the laborious process of carrying their god back up the ramp and into the magnificent palace ship.

9
    H eavy dew still clung to the leaves as the first rays of golden morning broke upon the countryside. Near the sea such dew was common, but it never ceased to delight Quentin when the sun struck each tiny droplet of moisture and turned it into a glimmering gem. Each hillock and bush seemed to acquire inestimable value.
    Toli’s high-spirited horses, now well rested, pranced and jogged in the cool morning air. Quentin himself lifted his voice in a hymn to the new day. Toli, too, joined in, and their voices rang in the dells.
    â€œAh, it is good to be alive!” shouted Quentin, more for the joy of shouting than for the sake of conversation.
    â€œThis morning the saddle seems a friend to you,” called Toli, bouncing along behind. “That is not the impression you gave me last night.”
    â€œIn the morning the world is re-created. All things are made new—including saddles.”
    â€œIt is good to see you in such high humor. For the last three days one would have mistaken you for a growling bear—not that I noticed.”
    Quentin seemed to ignore the remark, and they continued on as before, the trappings of the horses jingling brightly as they cantered along. “I have been under a shadow,” Quentin said at length. “It is good to be doing something—at least, I feel better for moving.”
    â€œThat is well for both of us,” replied Toli in his usual elliptic style.
    The two riders approached and mounted the crest of a long, sloping hill. Here they paused for a short while and contemplated the road before them and the valley beyond, in the center of which lay the village of Persch.
    â€œSee how quiet it is,” remarked Quentin as he gazed at the scene below. “So peaceful. This is how it has been for a thousand years . . .” His voice trailed off.
    â€œWe will pray that it may remain so for another thousand,” answered Toli. He flicked the reins and started down the road, a thin dirt trail barely scratched in the long, thick green grass of the hills.
    As they drew nearer to the seaside village, Toli grew tense with concentration. Quentin noticed the change in his companion’s attitude and asked, “What is it? What do those eagle eyes of yours see?”
    â€œNothing, Kenta. And that is what worries me. I see no one—no activity in the village at all.”
    â€œPerhaps the people of Persch are late abed and late to rise,” Quentin said carelessly, attempting to maintain the mood of tranquillity that had just been shattered by Toli’s observation.
    â€œOr maybe