Tales of the Honor Triad: The Bloodstained Defile

By Henry Brown

During the bloody wars of an alien world's dark ages, loyalty, integrity and friendship are rare commodities. Why would anyone guess they could be found in the hearts of mercenaries?

Sir Javo left his native Cemar to join the Order of the Black Lancers, and has built a reputation as a champion in single combat. But the general he rides for now has tasked him to serve as a diplomat as well, to negotiate with gigantic cutthroat barbarians known for their rapine and savagery.

Krag the Wrecker has been promised treasure, a horse, and a king's concubine if he and his score of fellow giants can delay the advancing legions of Dijol's invading army. It's a suicide mission, but not an unwelcome one for warriors who worship Death.

Turgar Lightning-Thrower was once a troop chief in the nomadic armies of the great Chieftain Supreme, until betrayed by a warrior-brother and framed for a capital crime. With a price on his head in the expanding empire of Gabom, he has ventured afar, hiring out his bow to the highest bidder. Now beyond the fury of battle, his feline eyes perceive the telltale signs of sorcery in the making. And sorcery is the one force that can cause him to loose his arrows on those who are paying him.

A great storm, an epic battle, and three dangerous warriors...all on a collision course for a narrow mountain pass that is already a bloodstained defile.

This is the "origin story" of the Honor Triad, who will return for many more heroic fantasy adventures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Henry Brown
• Release date: May 29, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458003072

Henry Brown

I was born and raised in a small town in Georgia. Left home for the military right after graduation of high school. During my ten years in military I became the father of two beautiful girls. Once my service time was completed I returned back to Georgia. I attended several schools for several trade to ensure I’ll always be able to provide for my family. While attending school for criminal justice I read a story I’d written while still in military. My teacher at the time, whom was a well known writer, said my writing was very good. So from that day to this day I picked up my pen and pad and begin writing about any and everything. I’d post some stories online and that’s when I begin to gain an audience of family, friends, co workers as well as strangers. Alot would encourage me to get my words published. And from that I present to you The Minds Of.................

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The Bloodstained Defile

By Henry Brown

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Henry Brown

Discover other titles by Henry Brown at his Author Page.

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Archers to the front!

The command was relayed back through the packed, disorganized column by a thousand succeeding voices, echoing off the sheer cliff wall on the left flank and into the deep canyon on the right.

Turgar, known as Lightning Thrower by barbarians outside Gabom, spurred his climbing pony through the jumbled ranks of shock infantry he'd gotten mixed in with. The spearmen, already irritated by the unceasing rain and the stagnated march of their once-perfect formation, urged him forward with much cursing.

Dijol's armada employed warriors from many nations, but few from Gabom. Turgar's small stature, crimson skin, and sweat-stained leather armor made him stand out from other warriors, but it was his eyes that caused men to think him feral. His irises were yellow, and his pupils thin vertical slits.

His pony snorted and shivered, not accustomed to such heavy rain. Ahead, Turgar saw a Dijolian officer standing on a boulder, gesturing and shouting into the mob of soldiers. When he spotted Turgar, he beckoned him to come closer.

They need you ahead, the officer said, once in earshot. His gaze lingered on the short, layered, lacquered bow in the scabbard hanging from Turgar's saddle. Gabomite bows were revered the world over, as were the diminutive horse-archers who used them to devastating effect both in attack and retreat. Another 200 paces and a narrow trail winds up the cliff. Take it, and when you reach its end, report to the Captain of Archers.

Turgar bowed from the waist, as if lining up to impale the officer with his spiked helmet. Grinning to himself, he straightened in the saddle and spurred on. The Dijolians played their games, and he played right back. They despised him, but needed his arrows. He would love to ram his spike into a Dijolian heart, but he needed their money.

He found the trail, and his sure-footed pony, glad to finally be free from the press of men, climbed methodically up the wet rock as if half-goat. As he ascended, Turgar studied the army below him. With a sheer cliff rising up on one side and a sheer cliff dropping down on the other, they could only move forward or back. But moving to the rear was not an option, as the teeming multitudes of the army kept amassing against the backs of the shock infantry. Why they were not moving forward was a subject of much speculation among the troops. The invasion of Fawlik was supposed to be little more than a parade-at-arms; Dijol's victory a foregone conclusion. So what could be stopping the mighty Imperial Armada?

After some time, the trail veered in between twin projections of stone. It wound through a cluster of such natural structures, turned back toward the cliff face, then leveled off, feeding into a large shelf overlooking the pass and the immense canyon beyond.

Other archers stood near the edge of the shelf, looking down, their backs to him. Turgar stepped down from the stirrups and stretched. Seeing there was no grass anywhere in sight, he dug some grain out of a saddlebag and