Seven Deadly Swords by Peter Sutton
Blurb
For every sin, a swordFor every sword, a curse
For every curse, a death
Reymond joined the Crusades to free the Holy Land from the Saracens and win glory for himself. Instead, with six others, he found himself bound under a sorcerer’s curse: the Seven Sins personified. Doomed to eternal life and with the weight of the deaths he has caused dragging his soul into the torments of hell, Reymond must find his former brothers-in-arms and defeat them. Riding across a thousand years of history, the road from Wrath to Redemption will be deadly...
Excerpt
Near Avignon, France, 1097
Reymond fidgeted, fingers playing with
the small burlap sack his father had asked him to fetch. He'd spotted the armed
men and a small but growing crowd as he crossed the spring market and had gone
to investigate. Amid the muck and the colourful tents selling a variety of
wooden and metal objects as well as fruit and vegetables, swine and fowl, the
assembly stood out. In the distance cows, being sold for slaughter, lowed. A
short, thin priest shouted, mid-sermon. The armed men were arrayed behind him,
the rest of the people going about their business in the marketplace. Reymond
watched the crowd, who placidly watched this sermon. A bitter wind reached icy
fingers in exposed places despite the warmth of the sun, but yet the priest
held the crowd’s attention.
The priest recounted his meeting with
the pope: God's representative on this Earth. How could that fail to move his
audience? The priest's musical voice sometimes wheedled, sometimes denounced,
using some words Reymond wasn’t sure the meaning of. He strode back and forth,
his feet slapping upon the baked clay. The honest aroma of the rural
congregation overpowered the smell of spring. The priest's voice boomed louder
as he reached the climax of his sermon.
"And the pope said to us, 'The
Holy Land has been invaded by a race alien to God, and they have attacked
Christians with sword, rapine and flame! They have destroyed our altars! They
have circumcised our men, pouring blood into the baptismal fonts!' He spoke of
the vile mistreatment of women, which I cannot repeat here for it is a great
evil. And what did he ask? He asked that all good men stand true in fidelity
with the church and take up arms against the heathen Saracen. Charles
here," he gestured, and one of the priest's armed escort, a large man with
coarse black hair and an olive complexion, dressed expensively– a lord–stood
forward, "is leading the men from this parish, and from the surrounding
parishes. If you are a good Christian he could use your sword."
Reymond gave the man an evaluating
glance. He had brought his company into the market as though there was an enemy
to be rooted out, yet his men stood meekly enough. The priest carried on
sermonising, but Reymond barely heard his words. He was afire with the idea. To
take up arms on behalf of the Lord, to aid Christians in the Holy Land
itself... he burned with the desire to join up. He wondered if his father, an
older version of himself, would have felt the same pull. His father! He'd be
wondering where Reymond was and he'd be angry at being kept waiting.
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