Page 1 of The Beautiful Blade

CHAPTER ONE

JORGE

Nine years old

The scent of damp hay and something fouler—rot or mildew, perhaps—burned my nostrils as I clung on to the back of the rickety wooden carriage. The uneven wheels jostled by every uneven groove of the cobbled road as the gredane picked its way down the path.

“Move, you lazy beast,” Uncle Maris snapped.

I jolted, assuming he was talkingto me. But there was nothing for me to do in the wagon but hold on. It was the gredane that had caught his ire.

Gredanes were relics on the planet of Lunaterra. Much like pure-blooded humans. The animal's sheer size was a reminder of the majestic beasts humans had brought to Lunaterra when they'd arrived thousands of years ago. Its coat was a checkered pattern of black and white blocks splashed across its massive body. The pattern was beautiful, even in the animal's patchy and worn state. A large black spot encircled one of its droopy eyes, giving it a look of perpetual sadness. Its joints clicked, and a tremble ran through its legs as it pulled the rickety cart forward.

Uncle Maris yanked the reins. The gredane stumbled. It howled miserably at the jerk of its master.

I hated that sound. It always made my stomach twist. My fingers curled into the edge of the splintered cart as we came to a stop.

The strap at Uncle’s waist came loose, dangling like a coiled snake as he climbed down from the driver’s seat. He stomped toward the gredane, muttering curses under his breath.

Uncle Maris raised the whip high. The gredane’s ears flattened as its large, watery eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the strike. It wasn’t the blow itself that broke the beast. It was the waiting that did it. The strike was always quick. The waiting stretched the attack out.

The whip rose in the air like a bowstring being pulled taut. My eyes darted to the worn and cracked metal shoe encasing the gredane's left paw.

“Wait.” The word tumbled out before I could stop it.

Uncle froze, the whip hanging in the air like a dark omen. He turned slowly, his sharp, beady eyes fixing on me with a look that made my blood run cold. “What did you just say, boy?”

“Something’s wrong—down there. The shoe. It’s loose. I—I can fix it. If it’s loose, I can fix it.”

There was silence except for the faint rustle of wind through the trees. The anticipation grew thick as I waited for the verdict. The bow stretched tauter and tauter. The string would snap once the blow fell across my cheek. Or the gredane's. Right now, the animal and I were both experiencing the pain of the wait, and I just wanted it to end.

Uncle Maris dropped the whip to his side, but the relief I felt was short-lived. He yanked the reins with one hand, jerking the gredane’s head violently to the side. The beast stumbled, letting out a miserable howl.

"Fix it quick. We can't be late for their royal flowernesses."

Uncle ambled to a watering hole off the main road. He unlaced his britches and relieved himself on the bark of a tree, not in the stream. This was fairy land, aplace where flowers and trees were sentient. The blades of grass bristled at the disrespect.

I scooted to the edge of the cart, trying to drop myself slowly to the ground. The moment I touched the earth, my feet were kicked out from beneath me. With my legs already weak, I couldn't mount a quick defense. Not that my gangly arms and legs were any defense to begin with.

Olric had his father's whip in his hand. He lashed out before I could scramble back. I had no time to anticipate the strike. The sting made me gasp from the pain. It was sharp and hot, a burning coal against my skin.

“Think you’re smarter than my Da, you crackling?”

He struck again. This time, the whip caught my arm. The brittle bones inside gave a cracking protest, like dry twigs snapping underfoot.

“You don’t tell my Da how to handle his own beast, you little twiglet.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. I didn't dare let any fall. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to keep from crying out. It was like a game. If I didn’t cry, maybe he’d stop sooner.

It worked. Olric dropped the strap. It fell into Dain's hand.

Dain was the taller of the two. Uncle Maris had married an orc. His spawn had gotten her strength andnothing else. Dain understood the suffering of anticipation, having met his father's blows on a regular basis. He made me wait, feinting a few times before delivering a series of blows.

Olric sneered, his boot slamming into my ribs. I curled up on the ground, clutching my stomach as Dain laughed.

“Look at him squirm. He's like a bug, he is.” Dain aimed another kick at my gut.

I was sure I’d pass out. But then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The two wandered off, laughing as they headed over to the water's edge with their father. Uncle Maris unwrapped a lunch of stale bread and bruised fruit. I didn't bother to join them. I knew I'd get nothing but scraps. And that's if I was lucky.

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