The Wald (The Wald Chronicles, Book 1)
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Two worlds on vastly different tracks collide in the first book of Jason Born’s new series called The Wald Chronicles.
The Wald begins in 16 B.C. when the belligerent Sugambrian tribe leaves their beloved forest to cross the Rhenus River into Gaul. While on their foraging rampage meant simply to gather supplies for the coming winter, they cross paths with the Roman Fifth Legion. An ever-so brief battle ensues. Though short, this encounter will set in motion a conflict lasting more than two decades with the tribes struggling under the might of the professional legions. The outcome of these wars, in forthcoming works, will prove to have lasting repercussions. In fact, we still feel them today in the global order.
The Wald is chock full of heroism, brotherhood, adventure, wit, and even history. Read it today to find out how tribesmen Berengar and his friend Ermin will fare against the likes of Drusus, Tiberius, and Augustus.
For that task just yet.” The Cheruscans laughed at the joke. Kolman, Thusnelda’s father, did not. “You boys don’t know the first thing about war. You think of things only as earth and sky, as water and ice. You ignore the mist and the nuances in between,” called Kolman. “And Ermin, if you continue in this vein, I’ll certainly never grant my daughter to you in marriage.” He had no intention of agreeing to the match, but thought it important to keep up the appearance that he gave it careful.
The task would not fall to Manilius. He was tired of young, cocky men. As he strode to carry out his general’s orders, he thought that perhaps he would consider hastening his retirement. . . . Septimus had not slept for two nights, and it looked like another would come and go without rest. A rider had just pounded along his formation calling to the centurions that the main body of the legion was crossing the Rhenus on boats. They’d be done by morning, but until then they would be at their most.
Being too good to be true, I can’t see any treachery.” Drusus shook his head. “I was thinking the same thing. But I come to the same conclusion, tribune. They use the wedge form that nearly every one of the tribes uses for battle. It is like they do not know they intentionally create a salient for us to exploit and pinch off. The open ground here suits us, not them. The forests are far to the right and left so that an ambush, if it were to come, could easily be met with a simple wheel. Behind.
Sea change. The battled inexplicably altered in Rome’s favor. He rode to Drusus, cutting down two staggering Cheruscans on his way. “Lord, give me just one cohort. Give another to Avectius. The Germans flee not because of another feign. They flee because one of their leaders doesn’t know that the purpose of battle is victory. Allow us to crush those who would stand in our way back to the clearing.” Drusus had his blood up from the near defeat. His face was splattered with the guts of his.
If Septimus and his century would spend the afternoon slicing into fleeing men’s backs. The centurion raised his empty right hand, ready to relay the signal for javelins to be launched. Instead, Drusus called, “Hold javelins!” Septimus watched as the general said something to the Gallic brothers and Hostilius, his new camp prefect, before kicking his horse out ahead of the line, in easy range for any angry Cattan to reach with a spear. “Cattans, we come to give you full battle. Caesar Augustus.