River of Spears (Kingdom's Forge Book 0) by Kade Derricks

knee, they would still be in serious trouble.
    I might be able to heal it . To save himself he would certainly try.
    But the little man was whole. During the fight he’d lost his turban, revealing his face.
    The rumors claimed that the Pyre Riders were horribly disfigured from their flames. But Nico had a smooth, bald head and no scarring at all. He certainly didn’t look like demon spawn. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. His eyes were olive shaped and a dark shade of brown. Tears fell from them.
    Odd—I can see no injuries. Perhaps he is just badly shaken. Dain checked him over again to make sure.
    His eyes stopped at Nico’s chest.
    Nico’s shirt had been shredded open by Ox’s grasping fists, and with her free arm she covered a pair of small, round breasts.

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
    T he walking continued. The second week passed. The days droned on. Step by step, Dain and Nico droned on with them. Their feet ached. Blisters formed. They cracked and bled and formed anew.
    Many of the other mercs were worse off. They fashioned crude moccasins from their shirts or jackets, but inevitably those who struggled dropped back and, along with their unfortunate partners, met their deaths on Tyberon spears.
    Dain heaved a sigh. He focused on putting one foot ahead of the other.
    Balerion was wrong, the grass goes on forever.
    It rippled in the wind like waves on the ocean, an endless sea of green. As a scout, he had an unerring sense of direction, but only by the sun and stars could he tell which way they faced. He had tried constructing a map in his head, but gave up after the first few days. The Tyberons’ constant twisting and turning still seemed random. Their crane-feathered guides changed direction half a dozen times each day.
    Several more times they found shallow lakes among the grass, and once it rained all through the night—heavy, soaking drops that stung the eyes and made restful sleep impossible. The next day he could feel the thick humidity weighing him down, and it took effort just to breathe.
    He glanced over at Nico. He— she , he corrected himself— plodded along beside him.
    The Tyberons hadn’t cared Nico was a woman. An enemy was an enemy, Dain guessed. Women warriors weren’t unheard of. He had seen or heard or read about several lands where females fought alongside the men. Outwardly, Nico hadn’t changed, but Dain noticed her eyes constantly scanning in all directions. She acted more like a skittering sparrow than the ruthless bringer of death she’d been before.
    No use blaming her for that. Not after the last few days.
    Twice, Dain had fought men off her. He would have thought with all the marching the captured mercenaries would be too tired to try anything, but they proved resilient.
    After the second man nursed a broken arm the other would-be paramours got the message. Wilhem, the mercenary chained to Jensen, seemed to be having the same problem. Though the other Pyre Rider remained covered, the other prisoners had assumed that he too was actually a woman.
    Their captors continued to keep their watch at night. Dain could sense their nervousness and indeed it seemed to grow worse as the days passed and the green sea deepened. He never saw any sign of what the savages feared. Perhaps they are just superstitious, fearing the night itself. But that made little sense—they certainly hadn’t been afraid during their night raids on the posts or the Esterian army.
    The rising sun seemed to drive away these unseen dangers. From their postures he could tell they feared little in the daytime.
    Dain’s original captor led them again. He walked like the others, with arms outstretched and palms open, but unlike the other cranes, who took slow, steady steps, he set a faster pace.
    The column had just set off after a short break at noon when something vast and unseen shifted in the grass ahead.
    As one, the Tyberons froze. The mercs followed their lead; whatever frightened their fierce captors they had cause