Roads of the Righteous and the Rotten (Order of Fire Book 1) by Kameron A. Williams Page A

the man fell back against the tree. With a faint cry, he rolled into the dirt.
    Without a thought or break in movement Zar moved to the next nearest guard, a man who had dropped to the ground beside a tree trunk to avoid being targeted by the fearsome, but yet invisible, archers who he believed were surely on their way. This man, like his comrade, had moved about so frantically in an attempt to spare himself from arrow-fire that he’d paid little attention to Zar’s movements. Zar flipped his sword and re-gripped, changing his blade to face downward, and stabbed into the man’s back as he squirmed frantically. His sword bit through mail and Zar pushed it hard until it came out the other side of the man and dug into the dirt.
    Another guard crept out, following Zar.
    Zar pulled his blade from the body just as quickly as he had pushed it through, and dashed away from the man’s blade. He didn’t bother to look behind him or turn to meet the man, but pressed forward to his next target, leaving his pursuer trailing behind with a raised sword.
    Zar came quickly upon another man, his sword lifted high in both hands, the tip of his blade pointing into the sky. He brought it down into a Snowguard’s shoulder and the blow made a cracking sound as it broke through the armor. The guard following him attempted to strike, swinging his sword with both hands before Zar was finished with his current killing. Zar spun swiftly around, and with one fluid motion stepped forward and dug his blade into the man’s throat.
    Zar looked for the horse that carried the leader, still jogging, shuffling, and twisting around his opponents. He turned to every hoof he heard, every horse’s whinny, every sound of movement. He had soon fastened his senses upon a horse on the left moving with some speed away from him. It was the commander’s bay with the man still mounted atop, who, from the looks of things, was trying to find the fastest way out of the skirmish. The thick, cluttered wood hindered the bay’s flight. Even so, the commander kicked and spurred the mount. It rushed forward only to skid to a halt in front of a patch of trees—its path cut off.
    Zar moved quickly toward the animal, switching his sword to his left hand and pulling his dagger from its sheath. He was coming into range when the bay reared up, and, taking one more step, he sent the dagger flying. The weapon hit near the guard’s ribs and stuck, and the man slowly toppled off his mount and struck hard against the dirt.
    Zar rushed to the man and pressed his sword against his chest. Blood coursed generously from the man’s wound, his body twisted from the fall.
    Zar took a moment to look around for the man that had been tormented by the Snowguards, but saw him nowhere. Instead, the crunch and gasps of two guards came, fleeing the dell.
    Zar laughed. The men still seemed to be rather frantic. If they’d only taken a moment to look around they would have seen the beautiful golden camel approaching the swordsman, and not the three deadly archers they might have imagined. But between Zar’s bluff, the noises from Asha’s entrance, and the cries of their fallen comrades still echoing in their minds, it looked as if those fleeing guards were still thoroughly convinced that the archers Zar spoke of were real.
    “Good sir!” Zar called, squatting down a moment next to the fallen commander. His dagger was still sheathed in the man’s side, and Zar untied the man’s coin purse as he lay against the earth, breathing heavily.
    “Good sir, you may come out. All is settled.” Zar stood up and addressed Asha who had come to stand behind him. “He hasn’t fled too, has he, Asha?” Zar rubbed his hand across her snout.
    Asha blinked her long, dark eyelashes before turning her head toward a noise that came from the trees.
    “Ah, he is still with us,” said Zar, turning to face the direction of his friend’s gaze. “Come, man, all is well.”
    Afar off in the dell, the little man