Free Shadow Of The Mountain by D.A. Stone

Gather your ten and leave as soon as possible. Braiden and I will brief the boy.”
    Almost as soon as he spoke, the heavy entrance flap of the chamber swung open and one of the sentries entered. The man was lean, his face and armor polished to a shine.
    “King Healianos,” he said tightly, “the apprentice, Tenlon, is outside awaiting you.”
    “Give us a minute, then send him in.” The sentry disappeared through the flap. “He can ride, brother,” the king said. “That’s why he was chosen. Would you like to meet him?”
    “Later. I have a message to send out. I already have the men in mind for the journey and I’ll return shortly to brief you. Time, I’m guessing, is a scarce luxury?”
    “Send to Talia and gather your men,” spoke the king. “I won’t be here when you return.”
    “So it shall be,” the champion replied, wishing there was more to say. He made to leave but paused at the canvas tent flap.
    “Goodbye, Healianos,” he said simply.
    “Farewell, brother.”
    ***
    Tenlon nervously adjusted his gray robe and stood waiting outside the king’s tent beneath the storming sky. The sentry had returned but said nothing, standing almost motionless next to the other guard.
    He noticed two more sentries in dark-green cloaks circling the tent with tall spears. Suddenly the heavy entrance flap reopened and a warrior with long golden hair ducked out. He was tall and wide-shouldered, with a curved saber at his side. He stared at Tenlon as he took the few steps off the platform past him, saying nothing.
    Tenlon turned to watch him leave, noting the warrior’s easy stride beneath the green cloak. He desperately tried to remember where he’d seen the man before, but it wouldn’t come to him. His mind must be too muddled from everything, he decided. Normally he didn’t forget anything, especially a face.
    When his gaze returned to the tent entrance, one of the sentries was holding the flap open for him to enter.
    “King Healianos will see you now.”
    Tenlon took a deep breath, gathered himself, and stepped up onto the tent’s platform.
    The area within was well lit and warm. Moving through a sparse hall, he approached two more guards who ushered him through to another chamber. Seeing the king behind a large table examining reports, his breath caught in his chest. The wooden floor was polished and the many rugs were the finest Tenlon had ever seen.
    He took in his first real look of King Healianos. Without the golden armor he didn’t seem as colossal as he had earlier in the day, but even in the simple white tunic he still cut an imposing figure. Energy and strength emanated from him like heat spreads from a fire.
    At first there was no response from the king and Tenlon felt ill at ease, unsure of what to do. Remembering the words of Accostas, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head.
    “Damn it, stand up!” the king’s deep voice boomed. “Which one of those idiots told you to bow to me?” Tenlon rose quickly to his feet. “Well?”
    Tenlon struggled to find an answer. He was so nervous.
    “Doubtful if it was Desik, unless he’d been drinking.” The king thought about it for a moment. “Which is possible after a day like today. Still, I’d say it must’ve been Accostas. I’ll have a word with that one, not to worry.” The king walked around the table before Tenlon, resting a hip on the edge, waving him over.
    “Come closer. It’s all right; I’m not going to fuck you. My, you are even smaller than I was told! That’s good. Very good.” The king was looking Tenlon up and down now. “So, do you still compete?” The words were hung up inside Tenlon’s mind, tangled and twisted. He suddenly felt thirsty.
    “In…horse races you mean, sir?”
    “No, turd-eating contests.” The king said the words with all seriousness. “Yes, horse races! I’m told you beat out a few of my light cavalry riders last spring. I didn’t see the race but know the men. Good riders. Not easy winning