Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One)

by Julian Saheed

Sergeant Hanlit brought his horse to a stop just behind the stone wall at the foot of the bridge. The only spot that he could see through was at a small opening in the middle, designed to allow a few archers room to fire through the wall. He looked back to the high eastern wall and saw the entire army watching him, hoping that through some turn of luck he would manage to succeed in deterring the enemy.

  "Why me?" he whispered to himself. He had never done anything special to be worthy of this task. Though now that he thought on it, it wasn't a task one needed to be worthy of. He was just a Sergeant, the second lowest rank in the army. Now, he had been chosen by the General to listen to Dargon's terms. When the order had reached him at the gate of Precedin's famous wall, he had almost fainted.

  Hanlit lowered himself from the saddle and walked nervously up to the opening in the wall. Peering through, he could see a rider approaching from the other side. The rider wore a scarlet robe, marked with the eight sided star of Gushkall and held a white banner over his shoulder. He slowly made his way to the wall and slide from his horse. Hanlit studied the man's face, it was as pale as the snow that covered the Dargonian nation.

  The man bowed lightly and then spoke with a loud voice, "My General is pleased that you would meet to discuss the terms of your surrender." The tone he used showed no sign of ridicule. He believed that the Feldonians had no choice but to give up.

  "My General has sent me to hear your terms," replied Hanlit, trying to sound strong.

  This comment brought a slight smirk to the Messenger's face. "Our Lord demands that your army leave the city and that your General hand himself over to us, to be justly punished for his crimes against Dargon."

  "And what crimes has our General committed?" he asked aggressively.

  "King Zephra has judged that any officers standing in the way of his armies are to be tortured and publicly executed for their insolence."

  "Your King must think himself great indeed to believe that he has already won this war," replied Hanlit, enraged. "Tell your General that the City of War has never fallen into Dargonian hands, and as long as a single soldier lives, it shall remain that way."

  The messenger began to laugh. "Excellent," he said. He then walked back to his horse and tossed the white banner into Lake Moonsong. A great cheer erupted from the Dargonian army and they began to chant. Soon the city was filled with the song of battle from the hungry troops on the other side of the lake. Hanlit's heart sank as he moved to the fortifications on the lake, to take his new position in command of the Militia archers.

  He had just stared the war.