Shanakan (The Fourth Age of Shanakan Book 1) by Tim Stead

seated on a substantial chair by the largest of the fires, a cup of wine in one hand. He was even bigger than Delf had expected. His arms were the size of a normal man’s thighs, his hands the size of plates, and his barrel chest filled a leather tunic that would have accommodated Delf and Wulf together. He was not a young man, though, and edges of grey showed in his hair and full beard. There were scars on his arms and face which had the effect of making him seem even more monstrous.
    He looked up as Corbus approached and eyed the two new faces.
    “What are these?” he asked. His voice was deep and surprisingly pleasant.
    “Recruits, General. They have travelled up from the south to fight alongside you. We picked them up just south of the village.”
    “That village? The same one?”
    “Yes, General.”
    He turned to Delf and Wulf. “What do you know of this village?”
    “A little, General. It is called Woodside. We’ve been in the area a few days, stolen food from them.” Delf answered quickly, to forestall Wulf. He had a plan.
    “Tell me.”
    “You’re not thinking of going there?”
    “I will destroy it.” The way he said the words left no doubt that he would. The mystery of the abandoned village and the mass grave was solved, perhaps. This man had destroyed villages before. “Why do you ask?”
    “I believe they have a sickness, General. We have seen burials – several, and fresh graves in the woods. We have overheard conversations. Your men might be infected with it if they go there.” He made sure that his voice was loud enough for a dozen men to hear. In an hour everyone in the camp would know that there was a sickness, and be unwilling to go. He also guessed that Bragga wanted to preserve and grow the size of his private army.
    “You are sure of this?”
    “As sure as I can be without catching the sickness myself, General.”
    The big man slammed his huge fist into his palm and looked at the floor. He was transparently angry, but he was thinking. Eventually he spat on the ground and took a draught of wine.
    “If the sickness leaves any of them I will finish them next year,” he said. “You may have done us a small service, man. What is your name?”
    “I am called Delf, General. My companion is called Wulf.”
    “Wulf: good name,” the general turned away from them. “Corbus, tell the others we ride East in the morning, and get horses for these men. They are coming with us.”
    So that was the end of farming, at least for now. It was a pity, because he’d been quite enjoying it. Perhaps they’d get a chance to slip away, but he had a feeling that Bragga took desertion seriously, and getting caught again would be a very bad idea.
    On the other hand, it would not be long before this band would attract the attention of the Faer Karan, and he really didn’t want to be there when that happened. They would have to time their departure carefully.
    Corbus showed them to a patch of ground near to one of the fires.
    “This is your group,” he said to them. “There is a woman to cook for you,” he grinned, “and anything else you want. If you want a tent you’ll have to steal the cloth. Any food you get, you share with your group. No fighting. Clear?”
    “Clear,” Delf and Wulf chorused. Their new companions were a ragged lot, no better than they themselves had been up in the mountains. They all gathered round the fire to eat and the woman gave them food out of a big pot. She was filthy and looked like she was dressed in a sack, but Delf guessed she was not that old. He noticed that Wulf kept glancing at her with a puzzled expression. He probably wants to take over the cooking again, Delf thought.
    It was only when he lay down on the hard ground by the fire to try to sleep that he was overwhelmed by a feeling a great loss. His friends were all taken from him, his home, his future. There was only Wulf left. There was always only Wulf.

8 The Arrow in Flight
    Serhan settled easily into life