filling the camp, Rathe clambered to his feet, certain he suffered no broken bones, but bruised over every inch of his body. By the hot trickles of wetness coursing down his back, many of the scabbed stripes crisscrossing his skin had torn open. He smiled ruefully, thinking of his supply of the old healer’s revolting potion. If nothing else, a good dose of that concoction would help him sleep.Before he worried overmuch about mending his hurts, he stumbled toward Nesaea’s wagon. Around him smiling, bloodied, dirty warriors continued to chant his namesake. He ignored them.As he reached the wheeled galleon, Captain Treon materialized from the opposite direction. He alone of the small company looked untouched by the battle. Treon halted in his tracks, scowling at the whooping men. He glanced at Rathe, a look of pure hatred. “Seize him!”The revelry cut off, replaced by confusion.Vaguely aware of what was transpiring around him, Rathe focused on Nesaea’s wagon, which stood battered but whole … and far too quiet.
What do You think about Reaper Of Sorrows (Book 1)?
