The Warrior longed for a cool, refreshing breeze. The kind that made the leaves sing and dance against the downy blue horizon. Or a stream where he could let his horse drink from the thin rivulets of current dappled in sparkling sunshine. Such had once existed. The memory was nothing more now than something like a dream. Or perhaps a nightmare.

He lifted his gaze to the blistering sun and almost cursed it. But the sun was not at fault for this once fertile land’s terrible demise. No, Predaria had been destroyed by one man’s greed.

That man was finally going to pay.

Like a wolf sensing danger, the commander tilted his head to the right; listening to a thunder from the ground so silent only his snowy white steed could sense it and bucked nervously beneath him. He lifted his hand to the small army of men behind him, halting their advance. He dismounted with animal- like grace, sending tiny tendrils of chalky dust up the thick hide of his boots when they touched the ground.

Squatting to meet the land that cried out to him, he rested his palm on the fissured ground and waited.

He wore a black mask around his eyes, painted in charcoal and ash to deflect the sunlight. When he lifted his gaze to study the distant plains beneath the glaring sun, his eyes were the color of a long forgotten turquoise sea. His nose was straight yet ruggedly sculpted. His jaw was square and strong and shad‐ owed in dark golden hair almost matching his sun-bronzed skin. His sun-streaked hair flowed to his shoulders, held away from his eyes by a thin crimson and green bandana.

He squinted under the burning fire of the heavens and could just make out the tiny distant castle shimmering in the heat like a mirage, an oasis of wealth amid the blistering hunger of the commoners. He hated the sight of it. He hated everyone in it.

“What are we waiting for, Caleb?” Mounted high on a black stallion behind him, Jonas, his second in command adjusted the thick, black leather straps that decorated his bare chest like war paint. The movement tilted the heavy broadsword further to the right against his back. He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, his deep scowl making his red mustache droop over his upper lip. “Are we taking the castle or not? The skin atop my head is beginning to blister even through my bandana.”

Caleb replied indifferently, “There are worse things than having your head fried.” He kept his eyes on the cloud of dust rising from the road a long way off. His voice lowered to the resonating echo of a primitive drum. “They’re coming.”

He turned to Jonas and nodded. His second grinned and then wheeled his horse to the men behind them.

Lifting his face to the merciless sky, Caleb’s second began a blood-curdling battle cry that must have chilled the blood of King Baltrasard’s most resolved soldiers across the Great Plains as they advanced. And, as the others joined Jonas, the sound rose up as high as the cloud of dust swiftly approaching from the castle.

Listening to the ancient cry of his men, the Warrior’s heart grew hard, but his expression remained calm, unchanged.

With a single leap he gained his saddle and lifted his face toward heaven, blending his voice with the voices of the others.

PALE MOONLIGHT SPLASHED ACROSS THE PLAINS, GIVING THE illusion of a cool, nightly breeze by the time the Warriors reached Castle Silvergard.

The Lord had been with them, for they hadn’t lost a single man and claimed a swift victory over King Baltrasard’s soldiers. Caleb knew, even before the battle had started, that the king

would not fight with his men. Baltrasard preferred to hide within the thick walls of the castle he had stolen from the rightful king of Predaria before him, or in the north, far from the horrors he’d created.

Caleb wasted no thoughts on how Baltrasard had known he was coming. The Warriors didn’t hide. They exacted justice, quick and merciless on any who broke the law. Most didn’t break it because of them. But most wasn’t all, and the lawless were particularly ruthless. If not for the Warriors, there would be no law.

“Pastor Joseph would have insisted we bury the king’s men,” Jonas reminded him. “Every soul, be it good or evil deserves to be put back into the ground. He would remind us if he were here and not looking over the foolish baron.”

As far as the burying his enemy, Caleb disagreed. There were no writings of King David of Israel doing so. Caleb also doubted the ground would have them.

Considering the baron, Caleb hoped he came to Christ before he married his sister, or no marriage would take place. He didn’t care how much Shauna fought with him. It was the only reason Caleb allowed the baron to remain in Shondravar while he was ill.

“She should be here with us,” Caleb said. “You pine over her but it was your decision to end things with her, forcing her into a life with the pompous, overpoweringly dull baron.”

Ermile Houtier, Baron of Iln in Hadvarti asked Shauna to marry, and Shauna agreed. Because of Ermile and Jonas, she lived a useless life, filling their father’s house with useless rubbish from other countries, trying to surround herself in luxury while their neighbors all starved.

Caleb wished she’d come. He missed her sword at his back.

He reached the cliff wall and fit his boot into a hole in the rock encircling the castle and pulled himself up.

They crept along the narrow ledge of the stony cliff that jutted up from a ground once covered by water. Caleb had waited for this day almost all his life, trained with the Warriors since he was a child so that one day, he could bring justice to Predaria.

His heart roared with exhilaration as it beat against his ribs. Whoever was left inside knew they were coming. The king knew it too. Caleb wanted to hurry and get to him. He’d been told that Baltrasard had ordered many tunnels built beneath Silvergard leading outside, so Caleb had stationed some of his men around the outskirts of the castle, just in case he popped up. They had orders to take him alive, if possible.

Baltrasard wasn’t an easy man to catch, preferring to live in the land of Beldar with his family nine months out of the year. But he was here. Now. The time was right. Now, the land would be avenged.

His foot slipped and dozens of tiny rocks piled down onto Jonas’ head.

Muffled curses filled the night air while Caleb rested his cheek against the stone cliff, trying to calm his anxious heart. When he looked up again, he could see the battlements lit in the moonlight and the guards that patrolled the narrow walkway. Twelve massive stone turrets punctured the dark sky, and a tower on either side of the castle cast grievous shadows upon the rocky cliffs below.

Castle Silvergard had once been as beautiful as Predaria. Caleb thought his heart might break upon seeing it again. The evil that sometimes lived within its silvery, granite walls had spread through it like a disease. Dry, scorching air and years of cool, pebble strewn night winds had corroded the mighty walls, erased the delicate carvings of dolphins and sea nymphs that had once looked out over a river so blue it rivaled the sky. Silvergard was nothing more than a haven for Caleb’s sworn enemy now.

He said a prayer and leaped off the cliff wall.