Vinas Solamnus PDF
Preview Vinas Solamnus
A man-sized blur, club raised, rushed toward Vinas. Solamnus whirled and, between heartbeats, struck the man’s head from his shoulders. The body slid wetly down to the ground. The hooves of the stallion trampled it underfoot.
“Down, to your knees, or the same will come to you!” he shouted. The other rebels knelt as one, so quickly and so heavily that the dry ground shook.
Vinas nudged his horse toward the spot where the man’s head and club lay. But it wasn’t a club. It was a loaf of bread, long and baked in a hard crust. A loaf of bread?
Vinas dismounted and kicked the red-speckled loaf, its crust shattered as it roiled away “Dead for stealing bread,” he hissed.
His boot tapped the victim’s head. When the gaunt, old thing rolled over, he saw and knew the eyes. It was Festas.
It was the old man, the first person to whom Vinas brought provisions that blizzard night so long ago. Festas had been stealing the bread that had been taken as tax from him. He had been bringing back food to his family’s mouths.
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