Prologue: The Travels of Reiken Thronson

A soldier, captured after an unsuccessful attempt at a raid on a convoy. Now held captive by mercenaries, Reiken has to escape and survive in enemy territory.

Cold air, thick with the smell of dead leaves and new life. Bird song and the rustle of squirrels in the trees, shaking the leaves in the dew. The green was blinding, everywhere and inescapable. The green moss growing on the trunks, and the green saplings littering the ground were nothing compared to the canopy of neon green that turned the world a verdant hue. The dawn brought with it a new life, piercing through the endless green and shining on the shuffling forest.

But death lay in the forest. Perched high in the green canopy, sat a bird that whistled a tune with no beak, who gripped the bark and branch with lithe fingers instead of sharp talons. This bird could not fly. But it was not alone, this bird. Across its legs sat a fearsome bow, whose arrows were sharper than any talon, and who could fly faster than any wing. This bird in the tree was a hunter unlike any other in the canopy.

At one time, this bird had been an owl, hunting the hares and iotles that scurried in the bushes. Then it had been the raptor, plucking birds out of the air when hares and iotles became boring and scarce. Then it had become the eagle, claiming foxes and wolves and small deer with its long reaching talons. Now this bird perched over the forest, a wepwa , a beast without measure, who hunted anything that could be hunted.

This wepwa sat in wait, patiently listening as the prey approached. Below, his men and women lay in wait, capes of leaves still and thrumming with the energy of a pack of wolves hungry for battle. And high above them, their captain, their wepwa, sat. His breath puffed out into the morning as he bared his teeth. He was wolf and eagle, lion and bear, life to his soldiers, and death to his enemies. He wanted battle. His eyes hungered to see the pumping veins and corded muscles cut and tear under his talons. His nose ached to smell the scent of blood and death. He would have battle. But only when the clatter of wheels and steps of armored men got closer.

The wepwa felt each step burn in his mind, another spark as the rage of battle burned in his heart. And when the convoy got close enough, he roared out fire and fury, echoing in the trees. The squirrels stilled, the birds stopped, the leaves froze. They knew the roar and what it meant. The wepwa was going to battle, and there would be no short supply of blood.

Author's Note

Wepwa comes from the ancient egyptian god Wepwawet, god of warfare, hunting, and wolves.
Iotles are small flightless birds that don't exist.