By Angus Watson
LEGENDS AREN'T BORN. THEY'RE MADE.
Dug Sealskinner is a down-on-his-luck mercenary touring south to affix up with King Zadar's military. yet he retains rescuing the inaccurate people.
First Spring, a baby he reveals scavenging at the battlefield, after which Lowa, certainly one of Zadar's such a lot fearsome warriors, who has vowed revenge at the king for her sister's execution.
Now Dug's at the unsuitable facet of the thousands-strong military he was hoping to affix -- and worse, Zadar has bloodthirsty druid magic on his part. All Dug has is his battle hammer, one small baby, and one unpredictable, highly-trained warrior with a lust for revenge that would get all of them killed . . .
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Additional resources for Age of Iron (Iron Age, Book 1)
Wait,” Maric protested feebly, raising a hand. ” Gareth sighed. “We need to get you to safety, Your Highness. Loghain knows the forest. ” With a swift motion, he drew his sword. “I will buy you time. ” “You could come with us,” Loghain said to his father, his voice hopeless. “They would just give chase. ” He glanced over at Sister Ailis, who was watching with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Ailis. I had hoped for . . ” She shook her head emphatically. Her eyes glowed fiercely despite the tears.
Many saw the sister as being the camp’s leader almost as much as his father was, and certainly his father had relied on her advice for many years now. There had been a time when Loghain hoped the affection between the two of them might grow into something more, for both their sakes. Sister Ailis, however, had her calling, and his father had never been the same since they fled the farmhold. It had taken Loghain a long time to realize it, but a part of Gareth had been broken that night. Sister Ailis knew what his father needed better than Loghain ever would, and he had to be content with that.
At least he would no longer be putting them in danger. He kept his stare on the floor for some time, listening to the beat of the rain against the hut and the frenetic activity of the people outside. Men were yelling, things were being covered, children were giggling and being hustled into tents. The smell of fresh rain filled the hut, a scent that Maric had reveled in when he was young because it meant Mother might be forced indoors. But now it only made him anxious. He felt like he was waiting, waiting for Loghain to finally come and kill him, Gareth to command his release, another round of questions, waiting for something to happen.