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Savage Legion

Matt Wallace
Chapters (61)
  1. Publisher’s Notice
  2. Map of Crache
  3. Dedication
  4. PART ONE THREE SIDES OF A COIN
  5. THE MOURNING AFTER
  6. THE KNIGHT BEFORE
  7. WHERE ONLY STONE STEPS ASCEND
  8. A THOUSAND FACES AND NONE
  9. BLOOD COINS AND BLOOD COIN HUNTERS
  10. FALLING STARS
  11. CITIES BUILT IN BOXES
  12. STEEL FIELDS OF RUST AND ROT
  13. RESOLVE IS THE FORGED BLADE THAT CANNOT BE QUENCHED
  14. THE DEAD WHO REVEL IN LIFE
  15. SHAHEEN
  16. THE FIRST WEAPON WAS A STORY TOLD BY LIARS
  17. HOME STUDIES
  18. REQUITAL IS THE REVENGE OF THE WELL-READ
  19. BURIED ON THE BATTLEFIELD
  20. ON AND OFF
  21. SAVAGERY PAYS A CALL
  22. WHEN GHOSTS SPEAK YOUR REAL NAME
  23. PART TWO UNRAVELING THE EDGES
  24. THE BLACK EAGLE
  25. THE MESSENGER
  26. A PEBBLE IN A MAZE
  27. THIRTY TONGUES AND NOT A WORD SPOKEN
  28. TEARS MADE OF FIRE
  29. LATE-NIGHT CALLERS
  30. THE MATING CALL OF THE CRACHIAN WIND DRAGON
  31. ONLY FIRE AND ICE GROW IN CHARNEL HOUSE GARDENS
  32. SCATTERING THE ASHES
  33. THE JEOPARDY ROOM
  34. HEAVEN’S HOSTESS IS HELL’S HANDMAIDEN
  35. THE BONES OF THE WORLD
  36. THE GOD RUNG
  37. KNIVES SPEAK LOUDEST IN THE DARK
  38. THE INTEREST PAID IN BLOOD
  39. RIDDLES SHAPED IN STONE
  40. THE CALLING HOUR
  41. WE BURIED OUR STORIES IN THE EARTH
  42. PART THREE REVELATIONS OF THE THROAT
  43. FORMLESS, SHAPELESS, IT CAN FLOW OR IT CAN CRASH
  44. THE SPARROW GENERAL
  45. THOUGH IT BE HARSH, COME BACK TO THE LIGHT
  46. THE NEW DEVOURING THE OLD
  47. A PLOT OF CORPSES
  48. THE BLACK TURTLE
  49. MARCHING TO A HEADLESS DRUM
  50. SEEK NOT THE EAVES AT MIDNIGHT
  51. REUNION
  52. SLEEP, AND HIS BROTHER DEATH
  53. MISSIO INTERRUPTUS
  54. BORN ON THE BATTLEFIELD
  55. IN THE HOUSE OF THE IGNOBLE
  56. THE ONES WE KEEP CLOSE
  57. DAWN IS THE MOMENT YOU WAKE
  58. THE GRAY AFTER THE STORM
  59. FINAL SELECTION
  60. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  61. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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Map of Crache

Map of Crache

Dedication

For Laython Wilkerson, my original instructor in savagery.

And for Monkey Empire.

PART ONE THREE SIDES OF A COIN

THE MOURNING AFTER

AHEAD OF EVIE, DOORS OF rotting wood are flung open. The sun is a curse shouted into her eyes, and she is prodded by the impatient end of a club up the mucky membrane of the darkened tunnel and out into the light of day. She feels soft, mostly even terrain under her moccasin-covered feet. She holds up a dirty hand, saluting the void of sharp gold filling her vision, and blinking until the motion snaps the world around her into something akin to focus.

The space is vast and walled and forgotten. It must have been a training field for soldiers once, no doubt covered by green grass that is now just a memory made of yellow bladed husks. Broken wooden men slouch from their buried tree trunk bases, as if the hapless vague bipedal shapes are supplicating in defeat. Practice weapons dangle from rusty, loosened nails at the end of sticks mimicking an enemy’s sword arm.

There are stubby little men and women armed with blunt sticks prodding them along, Evie and the rest of the drunks and dregs and bandits from the Capitol’s dungeon, herding them like feed into the center of the field.

“Form a line!” a voice shouts with all the power and rage of a minor god burdened by their peers with mortal concerns. “Shoulder to shoulder and an arm’s span apart! I don’t care how you stand, but stand! Stand, I said, you miserable pickled jars of skin!”