Echoes Of A Gloried Past (Book 2) by Ken Lozito Page A

droplets of blood flecking into the crowd, with some hitting Nolan’s cheek. Anson wouldn’t make eye contact with him now. When they had first left the station, Nolan had ordered the men to drive the miners along using the whips to crack the air. More of a theatrical display than anything else. He had hoped that the display would satisfy the Elitesmen, but he had been wrong. Dead wrong, and five of his guards had paid the price with their lives. The side of his head still throbbed from where the Elitesman had thwarted his attack, while another raised his hand, sending a searing blue orb into his chest. His chest still burned from where the orb struck. A warning, the Elitesman had said. The next one would not be aimed at him, but at his wife and daughter. His son, Jason, was too valuable an asset to waste. Jason they would simply take.
    Nolan spat the blood from his mouth where he had bit his cheek. The remainder of his squad hardly glanced back at their captain, who had failed to protect five of their number. Though Nolan had only been their captain for six months, he had made it a point to know the men under his command, and he knew that there were some with families whose husbands and fathers would never again come home. His hand lingered upon his sword. How he wanted to lash out and kill the Elitesmen in a torrent of righteous fury, but deep down he knew he would only hasten his own death and doom his own family. He buried his emotions and continued to drive his men forward mercilessly. Let them hate their captain if they could. He would bear the burden of what the Elitesmen had done to all of them in this display of barbarism. Deep within the foundations of his inner core, Nolan knew that he could never absolve himself of the actions taken this bloody day. He turned back to the Elitesman who stared back at him impassively. 
    Nothing. There is nothing I can do to stop this. 
    Nolan’s hand drifted toward the knife in his belt, toying with rebellious thoughts.
    Throw it! A voice in his mind ordered. At the same moment, Anson glanced his way, noting where Nolan’s hand had strayed. Nolan looked back at his friend, and Anson nodded back with his own hand tapping his knife.
    I’m sorry, Arienh.
    It would be a good death. Nolan pulled his knife free and hurled it at the Elitesman, with Anson matching his movements in perfect unison.
    The Elitesman’s movements blurred, sending both his and Anson’s knife harmlessly to the side. The Elitesmen growled and drew their swords, and Nolan did the same. Behind him, he heard the sounds of numerous blades hiss free of their sheaths, and he risked a quick glance to see that all his guards had drawn their swords, grim faced and determined. It appeared he would be testing the Elitesmen’s mettle this day.
    A dark figure slammed upon the ground between them, startling the advancing Elitesmen. The figure stood tall in silent waiting as a hush swept over the crowd. The Elitesmen lashed out with their blades in a blur, and the dark figure moved equally fast, whirling his staff and blocking their attacks. 
    Aaron squared off against the two Elitesmen. The bladesong coursed through him, but he did not draw his swords. He held the rune-carved staff steady in his hands and patiently waited for the arrogance of the Elitesmen to win over. They fed upon the fear of those around them. They would contend with someone who could stand against them today. 
    The Elitesmen attacked as a pair, perfectly coordinated with lethal accuracy, their blades racing to meet him. Aaron shifted through their attacks, drawing upon the energy around them and moving faster than they ever could. In a quick burst, he sent one of the Elitesmen to the ground with a blow from his staff. The other Elitesman, lighter on his feet, danced deftly out of reach, coming to a stop in the middle of the rabble of men the guards had been trying to clear out of the way. Aaron’s eyes caught the captain’s as they flashed in