Read Kingsteel (The Dragonkin Trilogy Book 3) for Free Online

he stepped back, he nearly collided with several more clerics who were hauling out straw pallets piled with corpses.
    Gods, if Silwren were here—
    “If Silwren were here, she could have healed these people herself,” said a voice behind him.
    Briel turned. “Are you reading my mind, Locke?”
    The burly, smartly armored Human with unruly red hair blinked in surprise. The Isle Knight moved one hand to the long dragonbone hilt of the curved sword hanging at his side. Briel wondered if Rowen was about to attack them. Then he realized what the gesture really meant.
    Silwren was still with them, in a sense. Somehow, she’d fed herself into that sword. She awakened whatever ancient magic had been buried there, allowing Rowen to cut clean through Fadarah’s armor and win the battle.
    Too bad that sword can’t heal as well as it burns.
    Before Rowen could answer, Briel said, “I sent your damn messages, by the way. Atheion, Lyos, Sorocco, Ivairia, Stillhammer, Quesh, and the Lotus Isles. I even thought about sending a copy to Dhargoth! Honestly, though, I’ll be surprised if even half of the birds make it there.”
    Rowen frowned. “You sent birds? I told you to send messengers.”
    “Have you seen what happened to my army, Knight? I can’t spare the men. You’re lucky I risked the damn birds.”
    “How will they even know their way? I thought your people hadn’t communicated with the other kingdoms for centuries!”
    “We haven’t, but these are wytch-ravens. The Dragonkin bred them long ago. Each chick is born knowing all the routes of its brood. Trust me, Knight, our ravens know the way. But that won’t help if a predator or some hungry fool with a bow shoots them down.”
    “Thank you,” Rowen said finally. “The people need to be warned.”
    “That a Dragonkin named Chorlga has declared war on Ruun?” Briel laughed. “Even if the birds arrive, whoever reads the messages will think it’s a joke.”
    “Some will. Some won’t.”
    Briel shrugged. “I see you found your armor.” As he spoke, he scowled at the two Sylvan warriors behind Rowen, assigned as much to act as Rowen’s handlers as his bodyguards.
    “In the king’s wine cellar,” Rowen answered.
    Briel almost laughed but stopped when the gesture hurt the stitches in his cheek. “You picked a fine time to grow thirsty.”
    “I was fetching casks for your healers.” Rowen looked around. When next he spoke, Briel strained to hear him over the surrounding cries. “Haven’t your clerics ever tended the wounded before?”
    “Not like this. The clerics we had at Que’ahl had plenty of experience, but the Olgrym killed most of them. We have enough healing lore to fill ten libraries, but nobody thought to stockpile herbs and medicines.”
    “Remind me to have a word with whoever was in charge of this city’s defenses.”
    “Let’s see. That would either be General Seravin, who will likely die within the hour, or the king and his son—one of whom is mad, the other burned to death by—” He stopped himself from speaking Silwren’s name. “By your friend.”
    Rowen gave him a cold look. “I learned a few things on the Isles. Enough to clean and sew wounds, at least. Since there doesn’t seem to be anybody to kill at the moment, at least let me do what I can to help here.”
    Briel hesitated then nodded. “I can’t do much with a broken arm, but I’ll join you. Maybe we can even do some good. But take that pretty armor off first, unless you want to see it soaked in blood.”

    By sundown, Briel felt as though he had spent the entire day fighting for his life. He glanced over at Rowen, saw the Human’s face awash with sweat and splattered with Sylvan blood, and wondered if the man felt the same. With only one arm, Briel could not sew wounds, but he could still bring water and blankets to the wounded. Though he had never been one to whisper words of comfort, his presence alone seemed to hearten them. After a few hours, the cries seemed