The Golden Oath
Thorne. The name was shouted through the mud, sharp as a crack of a whip. Elias Thorne did not move. His rifle was jammed, the bolt stuck in the wet earth, and the weight of the weapon dragged at his shoulder. Around him, the border skirmish was dissolving into a retreat, a chaotic shuffle of boots and cursing. Three men were left behind, pinned down by enemy fire in a ditch to the north. They...
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