Lions of Men

Chapter 1

Summer, January 1216 A.D

Rowen Themarian fixed his eyes on the flock of crows gathering overhead. The predacious fowls lingered over him and his men like a cloud of doom, salivating for a feast. The howling wind violently whipped about sending a chill down his spine. Billows of smoke filled the heavens, blotting out the morning sun, the stench of burning rubble invading his nostrils.

The prince of the Levanite nation and his army urgently beckoned fleeing villagers to safety behind the high iron gate which separated their coveted city from the town. Rowen shuddered at the thought of those who were unable to escape the invaders of the west. He prayed earnestly to the gods that they had suffered a quick death. The alternative was too gruesome to imagine.

"Well don't just sit there, my boy," said a middle-aged man dressed in blue and gold war apparel under gold-plated armor. "Test the earth. I'm certain they're approaching by now."

Rowen wiped sweat from his forehead and regulated his breathing to still the pounding against his chest. Gathering his nerves, he slowly dismounted from his horse, and pushed his way through the stream of terrified townspeople, pressing their way into the city. He waited until the last of the villagers made it in, and the gates were shut. The prince knelt on the rocky soil and pressed an ear to the ground. His heart sank as faint vibrations penetrated the earth.

"Their coming," he said gravely. "Get to your horses! Get to your horses now!"

The middle-aged man looked Rowen up and down and nodded with approval. "You have your mother's ears son; a gift that for once works in my favor."

Rowen smiled wryly at his father's remark and anxiously scanned the hills for any signs of the advancing threat. He had been trained to fight with the heart of a lion; groomed to rage until death, to scratch and claw with an iron will to survive. Loss, loneliness, and suffering forged him to be a worthy successor to King Rashnee Themarian's throne and the defender of his homeland. But now he was being thrown to the wolves. It was trial by fire, and his reward would be his life.

The king mounted his horse, leaned down and studied his son. "Are you afraid?" he grinned.

Rowen turned to Rashnee but didn't respond.

"You were petrified of monsters when ye were a lad," Rashnee told him. "Today ye shall know they do exist. If you'd like, I can sing you one of those lullabies you used to love."

Rowen glared at his father, and Rashnee chuckled.

"Um, let's see," he hummed, tapping his chin. "What was the song your mother used to sing? Ah yes!" He put up a finger and cleared his throat.

"Hear the bells, the morning's sunrise, kiss thy fears away.

Oh, let the spring dew greet thee with blessings and give you peace this day."

Rowen stared in disbelief as Rashnee whistled the melody a second time. He peered down at his son and grinned mischievously. The army broke into uproarious laughter. Rashnee had a reputation for never flinching at the threat of danger, but Rowen couldn't fathom how he could be so cavalier at a moment such as this.

"Wherefore do ye mock the heir to your throne before the battle is at hand?" Rowen said, infuriated. "Lest ye blind me with rage to my doom?"

A soldier handed Rashnee an exquisitely decorated helmet, and the king leaned down and whispered in Rowen's ear. "Find thy strength lad. Ye bear the name, Themarian. This day you become a man. Bloodshed makes thee worthy to bear my crown. Welcome to a king's world." He winked at Rowen and turned his horse to face his army.