Of Blood and Bone (Legends of Fammori #1)

Prologue

"It takes a very special kind of idiot to do what you just did, my Lord."

"Alistair, you worry like an old aunt." Julian Overton removed his helmet, casting a lazy glance at the mass of bloody fur under his feet.  Black hair fell across his stern, angular face. Blood dripped slowly from the top of his sword onto the carcass of the wolf.

Alistair shook his head. Atop his horse, his eyes shifted quickly across the scene. The two could not have been less alike: Julian was tall and sturdy where Alistair was built like a whip. Julian carried the weight of his 40-odd years in his face and the streak of white in his hair, Alistair's 38 years had hardly touched his face or hair since he was in his mid-twenties. Lord Overton's dark hair and fair skin was a sharp contrast to Alistair's red hair and dark olive skin. Both carried themselves with the weight of their station: one noble and the other trained from birth to fight.

The road behind them was long and winding. Plains stretched as far as the eye could see.  The breeze blew the stench of rot into his nostrils, stirring the two black horses. Their panic was stilled by Julian's soft whistle.

Before them, the road was smoother and more straight.  The faint outline of mountains could be seen by Alistair's keen eyes as he scanned the horizon before them. "What was it doing so deep in the Plains? Surely, they know there is no food this far."

The Plains of Khalmud were known for their beautiful bluegrass and nomadic tribes.  Since the war began, the bluegrass has turned brown from lack of rain - the driest season they had seen in decades.  All the nomadic tribes had taken refuge in the cities and villages.

Though, Alistair thought with a sense of irony, the warring Lords were more likely to level a city or village than hunt down a random tribe on a whim. It was about making a point, not a tally of deaths.

At the behest of his wife, Lord Overton had abandoned the front line. He had given no explanation, no word of concern - only that he had been summoned home. Overton's militia was already quite small as the House was primarily made of farmers and horse-trainers - Julian had only taken a handful of men to take a report of the situation and two lesser would not be missed.

"We do not have time to investigate. A challenge for tomorrow."

"Not if you die before we get there."

Julian cast a chastising look at his old friend before replacing his helmet, "One wolf, Alistair." Swinging himself up onto his horse, he spurred his horse forward, tossing his words over his shoulder, "The day a lone wolf fells me... well, that is what you are for!"