Free Beyond the Edge of Dawn by Christian Warren Freed

had returned to their ruined lands to gather what they could of the codes and traditions before going into hiding. There, they had trained the youth and carried on the old ways. The following years had not been kind.
    Pirneon slid deeper into the water and closed his eyes. His silver hair draped over the edge. As tired and filthy as he was, he wasn’t about to let this simple luxury go to waste. His eyes closed. Barum entered what felt like mere moments later to wake him. Groaning his way out of the fouled water, Pirneon dressed in a clean tunic and pants while concealing his vest. He didn’t want to go through the formality of the banquet but knew his absence would arouse suspicion. The only way to survive was to go through the motions and kill those responsible before they killed him. A sad song, to be sure, but one he’d grown accustomed to playing.
    He halted at the tent entrance and laid a fatherly hand on Barum’s shoulder. “Have the horses saddled. If I don’t return, you know where to go. Speed and fortune, my friend.”
    Barum nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”
    Pirneon smiled tightly and left.
    The sun was beginning to set and, with it, their futures.

NINE
    Betrayed
    The main tent set up for the Caliph’s banquet was hundreds of meters long and half that wide. Thousands of soldiers and acolytes filled the tables and chairs. Adonmeia and his closest advisors and generals sat at a long table filled with different meats and vegetables. Pirneon considered asking where they managed to find so much fresh fruit this deep in the desert but found the notion mildly inconvenient. He didn’t care. Well-honed instincts had him already searching for the easiest exit point. Killing Adonmeia meant nothing if he couldn’t escape.
    At the same time, Adonmeia’s narrow eyes were focused directly on Pirneon. The Vengeance Knight knew he was a target, despite Habrim’s chained figure on display. Assassins and second-rate cutthroats lined the crowds waiting for the word. They were poorly disguised and stuck out immediately. Adonmeia watched but didn’t move. Pirneon sighed calmly and marched with all of the poise of a veteran warrior to the head table. He stopped short and bowed.
    “Rise, my friend,” Adonmeia said in a light voice. “It is we who should all bow to you. You’ve brought me my most hated enemy and given us the opportunity to successfully end this war. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
    The Caliph was dressed in ornate robes that sparkled and flowed in a hideous array of bright colors and cheap jewels. Adonmeia was the type of man who wanted to be more than what he truly was. Overweight and balding, he portrayed himself as the gracious savior of the kingdom. The reality was anything but. He’d grown up poor and an orphan. As a youth, he had been forced to steal and murder to get by. Now was no different. Some said when he smiled all you could see was daggers.
    Pirneon graciously waved off the false accolades. “I merely did what you commissioned me for. Losses were more than expected. They should be recognized as the true heroes.”
    Adonmeia dismissed his comments with a wave. “Losses that have already been replaced. Come, sit and enjoy this feast in your honor. It is a glorious victory we celebrate.”
    He clapped his hands twice, and a serving girl brought Pirneon a porcelain mug of wine. Bradgen sat Adonmeia’s opposite side and casually watched as the Pirneon claimed his seat. For the slightest moment, Pirneon fear the wine was poisoned. Outright murder wasn’t in Adonmeia’s bag of tricks, however, for the Caliph was of a subtle nature. Killing Pirneon at the beginning of the banquet would plunge his army’s morale. Pirneon figured his death would be rigged to look like a jealous soldier who, in turn, would be killed to remain quiet.
    The charade continued for another hour. Jugglers and acrobats performed, and bards sang tales of the greatness of Adonmeia and his glorious crusade.