Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms 1)

“Paelsian scum,” he snarled as raised his sword. “Die, you maggot!”

Jonas’s muscles ached and burned as he swung his ax upward to meet flesh and bone. The spray of blood hit his face dead on.

• • •

Lit only by the torches stuck in the ground and the bright moon in the black sky, Jonas fought his way forward. He’d traded his battle-ax for a pair of short curved swords that looked as if they belonged to one of the chief’s personal guards. They felt right in his hands and allowed him to slash through anything that opposed him.

Many had already fallen beneath his blade. He’d lost count of the lives he’d taken.

Jonas also showed the signs of a battle that had lasted nearly twelve hours without relief. He bled from a wound on his shoulder. Another blade had found his abdomen, just beneath his ribs. He would live, but the injuries were starting to slow him down.

“Jonas,” a voice called out to him from the tangle of bodies on the ground.

Jonas thrust a sword up into an Auranian’s gut and watched the light leave the man’s eyes before he glanced to his left.

A boy lay on the ground nearby, half-crushed by a fallen horse. Jonas fought to get to his side.

“Do I know you?” His gaze quickly moved over the boy’s injuries. The horse that had crushed his legs wasn’t the problem. It was the deep bloody wound to his stomach with the spill of glistening intestines showing beneath. A horse hadn’t caused that. A sharp blade had.

“You’re from my village. You’re Jonas—Jonas Agallon. Tomas’s younger brother.”

Now he recognized the pale boy’s face although he couldn’t at first summon a name. “That’s right. Leo, isn’t it?”

Two soldiers clashed nearby, stumbling past them. One tripped over a body and the other—thankfully on Jonas’s side—finished him off. To his left, a hail of burning arrows flew through the air from the archers stationed on top of the palace walls.

“Jonas,” the boy Leo said, his voice almost too low to understand. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be.” Jonas forced himself to keep his attention on the boy. “It’s only a shallow wound. You’ll recover just fine.”

He lied. Leo would not live to see the next sunrise.

“Good.” The kid gave him a pained smile, but his eyes were glossy with tears. “Just give me a minute to rest and I’ll get back out there.”

“Rest for as long as you want.” Despite his better judgment, he crouched down at the boy’s side and took his hand. “How old are you?”

“Eleven. Just turned.”

Eleven. Jonas felt the remnants of the half-cooked rabbit he’d eaten earlier churn in his gut. The whiz of an arrow pierced the air nearby and caught a soldier in the chest. Not a killing wound. It only made the soldier—a Limerian by the crest he wore on his sleeve—rip it out and let out a harsh cry of pain and rage.

Jonas turned his attention back to the dying boy. “You were very brave to volunteer for this.”

“My older brother and I weren’t given much choice. Had to come. If I could hold a sword, I would serve King Gaius.”

Serve King Gaius.

Hot anger worked its way up Jonas’s throat, thick enough to choke on. “Your family will be very proud of you.”

“Auranos is so beautiful. So green and warm and...I’ve never been here before. If my mother could experience this, have a life like this, then it’s all worth it.”

The boy coughed up blood. Jonas wiped it away with his already bloody sleeve as he sent a searching glance around the area. Men fought close by—too close. He wanted to stay with this boy, but he couldn’t afford to be here much longer. But if he could get this kid back to camp—find him a medic...

The boy’s grip on his hand tightened. “C-can you do me a favor, Jonas?”

“Anything.”

“Tell my mother I love her. And that I did this for her.”

Jonas blinked hard. “I promise.”