The Reckoning, page 8
The stranger peered up at Kaden, blinking. “Who are you?” the man asked, in the same language, before Kaden could speak.
“Kaden of Glen-Dorrach, Son of Farramon, Prince of the Wolfhead.”
The chief stilled as if taking in Kaden’s words and eyed him slowly from his long hair and three day’s growth of beard to his bare feet. He had lost his boots at the lake. At last, he spoke. “The prince with the cursed eyes. I have heard of you. They say you fight like a demon unleashed.” He nodded solemnly. “I am Phalae, Chief of the Blue Panther. You are well met, Prince of the Wolfhead.”
Kaden offered the chief water and a strip of dried meat. He had not known his exploits had reached so far.
Phalae groaned, and with help, rose to sit. “You are a long way from home, young prince.” He tore at the goat meat with whiter teeth than Kaden would have expected. “And it looks as if you have weathered much.”
“That I have, tribesman, but you are also a long way from your village.” He settled across from the chief and pulled on the other pair of boots. “What brings you this far north?”
“Urakians raided our village while I and my men were attending a feast with the Gray Bear. The dogs stole our children and raped our women. They took my wife and three daughters.”
“Slaves.” He cursed. “They are taking captives of every race and using them to work the mines. They harvest the precious golden metal in the Carrum-Bahl Mountains. I was able to get close enough while trying to rescue some of my men. The Urakians are using the stronger ones like pack animals to shift dirt and the weaker to dig.”
“Then we must free them.” Phalae gritted his teeth and pushed gingerly to his feet.
“No.” He stood and placed a hand on Phalae’s arm. “Now is not the time. You are weakened by your wound, and first we must recover Magus’s Cross.”
The Black man’s brow furrowed. “What is this Cross of which you speak?”
“A powerful talisman, which is told, can resurrect the God Magus. He alone can vanquish the sorcerer who is behind all this evil in our land. Sernon of Asomos wishes to enslave us all, rob the land of its treasures and take Tarlis for his own.”
“Then our prophecies are true. The Dark One has risen from his grave? Our Shaman foretold it. In a dream, he saw Tarlis covered in darkness. He said it would stay this way until the Ancient Cross of the Round-Eyes was found, and the One of Light returned to the land. Do you think this God you speak of was the one foreseen?”
“I believe so. Magus was a great sorcerer who once ruled on Tarlis. He was transformed to a God by the Gods of Creation when he died.”
“His magick must be magnificent indeed if he hopes to destroy the Dark One. They say the sorcerer has an army of demons and converses with Arahmin, Prince of the Abyss.”
“Sernon is mortal, and as far as I know, the only army he rules is the two-legged kind. However, I have heard he converses with demons. Five demons track my companion and I even as we speak.”
The swarthy warrior ran a look down Tannith’s body then turned back to Kaden. “I must not keep you long.” He fingered the stitches in his wound and inclined his head toward Tannith. “You have done well, woman.”
Tannith gave the chief a hesitant smile. He knew she could not understand the man’s words. “He said thank you for stitching his wound.”
She smiled at the chief again, this time brighter.
Phalae gave her a more concentrated look, then once more spoke to Kaden. “Although my grief for my family is deep, I must think of the continuance of my tribe. As Chief of the Blue Panther, I must have sons, and my wife was stolen. In my village, I have many fine ponies. I would buy the woman from you.”
Kaden bent and drew his ten-inch dagger from the sand and ran his thumb lightly over the edge of the blade. The look he gave the other man was deadly. “The woman is mine. She is not for sale.”
Phalae grinned, showing a full set of yellow teeth in a black face. “I meant no offense. He turned from Tannith dismissively. “She is too skinny anyway. Her hips are too slim; she will not birth well.” He stared into the blue distance. “My woman was strong.” He gestured the width of her hips with his hands. “Already she has given me three daughters.” His eyes grew sad. “She was to have my son in the Time of the Winds.”
“Fear not, we will get her back. The time is coming when the Urakians and those who lead them will pay for the suffering they have caused. I ask you, Chief of the Blue Panther, will you stand with me on that day?”
“The Gods of Sand and Water know I have no love for the round-eyes. Yet you are truly a man of honor, Prince of the Dorrachians. For the service you have rendered this day, I would deem it a privilege for the Blue Panther to stand beside the Son of Farramon and see the blood of our enemies stain the earth.”
Kaden reversed his black-hilted dagger and passed it to Phalae. “Take this blade. You will need a weapon on the journey back to your village. I shall send the dagger’s twin when I have need of you.”
“Your gift is much honored. And may the Panther always be a friend to the Wolfhead.”
Kaden passed the chief the pair of goatskin moccasins and waterskin he took from a corpse in the valley. “Also, for your journey.”
Phalae inspected the tool work in the leather waterskin, his features darkening even more. “This was Greko’s water bag. He was a fine warrior. The Urakians killed his wife. They had been wed for only seven days.” Phalae stared into the distance, a faraway look in his brilliant turquoise eyes. “Perhaps now they stand together in the land where the sun always shines, and water and game are plentiful.”
Kaden nodded, unable to think of anything to say to lessen the man’s grief.
Tannith rose and laid a hand on Kaden’s arm. “Is something wrong?”
He ran a gentle knuckle down her cheek. “No. What could be wrong? The chief promised to join us in our fight against Sernon when the time is right.”
“And?”
“He offered to buy you.” He grinned.
“I see.” She raised a brow. “And what was the knife for, a bonus?”
“No. However, he did offer me eight ponies.”
“Only eight?”
“They are fine ponies.”
“Indeed?” Her comeback was dry. “And what did you reply?”
“I told him you were disagreeable. That you would make a terrible wife.”
Tannith snatched up a waterskin and tossed it at his head, then bent to gather their belongings.
“Thank you.” He grinned, taking a swig of water from the bag as he caught it. “All that bargaining left me dry.”
She turned to look over her shoulder. “What bargaining?”
“Phalae then offered me ten ponies and a goat.”
“Could you not do better?” She straightened. Her tone dangerous.
“Precisely. I told him it was not enough.” He gave a rakish smile as he watched her face. He loved the way her violet eyes sparkled when she fought to hold her emotions in check. He turned back to Phalae. “He said you were too skinny anyway.” He smiled without looking at her.
“Too skinny?” He said I was too skinny?” She scooped up another waterskin and tossed it, and he caught it without thought and dropped it to the rug.
Tannith’s hands went to her hips. “You best watch your back Dorrachian. One night you will find your other dagger lodged between those manly shoulder blades of yours.” She stomped over to the horse to stow the supplies, and Kaden’s laughter followed her.
The chief, having watched the scene, laughed with him. “I see your woman has much fire. I prefer my women more docile. I fear that one will cause you much trouble. Perhaps you should keep her after all.”
“She has already caused me much trouble,” Kaden replied gently. “But it was a pleasure I would not have forgone.”
“I see your love for her runs deep. Nonetheless, there is a saying among my people. A woman is a lot like a good horse. First, you must show it who is master. Next, gentle it to your hand. Only then can the filly be ridden.”
Kaden grinned. “Good advice, Chief. Perhaps one day I will take it.” He glanced at the sky. Already the moons were beginning to rise in the east and the sun setting over the ranges. “It is time we took our leave. We dare not linger too long in one place.”
Phalae fingered the knife at his waist. “I fear I have slowed you down.”
“Not at all, we needed to rest. Nevertheless, I worry for your safety. You are certain you are well enough to travel?”
The Chief straightened and winced. “I have suffered worse. A blow from a puny Urakian axe will not see the end of me. I name my own time to die.” He stared into the distance. “At the river I will find Blackroot and make a poultice for the wound. It has many healing properties and will ward off a poisoning of the blood. Do not fear. My hate for those blue dogs will keep me strong. When the time comes to fight, I will be there.”
He raised a hand in a sign of farewell and Tannith returned his wave. However, Kaden reached out and stopped him before he turned. “I would know one thing. If our roles were reversed. If you had found me down, there.” He gestured to the valley. “What would you have done?”
The tribesman looked him in the eye. “I would have left you there.” The tribesman grinned.
Kaden laid his head back and laughed and Phalae joined him. Then he watched as the big man walked away, his sure stride eating up the sand. He climbed to the next ridge and disappeared. Phalae headed southeast, the opposite direction from which he and Tannith would take. By nightfall, the chief would be at Tarlis Lake, then he would cut west toward the Vagarian Desert.
Tannith touched his elbow. “Will he make it, do you think?”
He bent to wipe the signs of their stay from the sand. “Phalae is a tribesman. They are born to survive. Besides, he has much to live for.”
“His family?”
Kaden stilled his movements and looked up. “No, to see his enemy’s blood run red on his hands.”
Chapter Seven
Dannock dabbed the sweat from his brow with a lace-edged handkerchief and observed the scene spread across the valley floor. His black destrier shifted restlessly beneath him, the stallion’s nostrils quivering at the stink of death.
The priest dragged on the horse’s reins to regain control and watched with impatience as five silver-helmed warriors climbed the rise and approached him.
“So, what did you find?”
“They helped someone.” The Five answered as one. “He journeyed southeast.”
“I do not want to know where he went, fools! I want to know where they went. The princess and the Dorrachian. Cannot you do better?”
The demon warriors moved away, sniffed the air, and searched the ground.
Dannock despised the creatures. Having to speak with them, travel with them, eat with them, though they ate little. The decaying stench of their rotting flesh was foul enough, but they never tired. All day they sprinted beside his horse, never requiring food or water, never raising a sweat. He felt inferior each time he needed to sup or attend his bodily functions.
In his eyes it made him appear weak, and weakness was something he truly detested. It reminded him of those insipid priests he had been forced to live with in his early days, years he had used to study the ancient chronicles of the Old World and discover the location of Sernon’s book of incantations. The monk Arkahis had been his only friend then, and always he had thought Arkahis would come over to his side.
Unfortunately, he was wrong. It was the first time he had experienced remorse in an age. He sighed and shrugged his bony shoulders. The Abbot had preferred to be a fool, and he had been forced to take his life. Dannock pushed the morbid thoughts from his mind and stared around the campsite. Dismounting, he called to the demon warriors. “Surely you imbeciles have searched enough. ’Tis only one man and a woman. How hard can it be to read a few signs?”
“We track by scent, Master.”
“Then get your noses to the ground and start sniffing!” He began to empty his bladder over a corpse of a young tribesman at his feet. As he did so, he stared down into the man’s face—a youth of no more than sixteen summers.
“Scum of the earth,” he muttered. “You are not even worth pissing on.” He shook himself, dropped his robes into place and kicked at the corpse.
The Five stood at attention as he mounted his horse. “We have the scent, Sire.”
“Well?”
“They turned south last sundown.”
Dannock’s lips pulled tight. “South again.” He cursed. “Where on the blood of demons are they heading? There is nothing south except desolate peaks, dry gullies, and more desert. Surely the Cross cannot be hidden in the mountains?”
He grasped the reins of his warhorse and pulled it around. If Prince Kaden and the princess were heading toward the mountains, they would never live to collect their prize. He would see to it. They were only a day and a half ahead. “We will soon be upon them. Then the sport will begin.” The priest pointed. “Go!”
The Five set off at a steady pace.
Dannock replaced the stopper on his waterskin, peered out over the vast stretch of red sand merging with the crimson mountains on the horizon, and smiled. Soon, he promised. Soon he would make the Prince of Glen-Dorrach pay for the humiliation he suffered at the Dorrachians’ hands.
Perhaps before he ended the prince’s life, he would tell him of the pleasure he gained from his mother before he’d slit her soft white throat, or how his father had repeatedly begged for her life before Dannock himself had separated his head from his body. A cruel smile formed on his lips. Perhaps he would have his men hold the prince while he sampled the princess’s virgin body.
He had only seen her once, but the sight had been enough to fire his blood―violet eyes flashing like pinpoints of fire, masses of flowing white-blonde hair and breasts to fill a man’s hands. She would not be one to surrender easily, and there was naught he enjoyed more than the taming of a wild cat. He kicked his heels to his mount and rode on.
****
Kaden built up the fire and knelt beside Tannith, who was still sleeping. She was breathing evenly. He touched her face gently with one finger, stroking the soft skin of her cheek, then left to climb to the top of the nearby rise to stare out over the rolling plains to the south. The sun crested the Poniard Ranges; deep sandstone gorges, tall cone-shaped rock formations and long stretches of limestone swept into distant blue haze, as if the sky had joined and merged with the land. To the northwest, the defiant Carrum-Bahl Mountains pierced the clouds like sword points, blood red and glowing proud.
He watched as the sun’s rays hit and aligned with the left eye socket of Skull Rock and speared a brilliant streak of light directly into a distant red cliff face. It was the sign that would lead them to the pass. He memorized the coordinates. If they made good time, they could make the hidden valley by late noon.
Already the day was growing hot. Kaden drew his cloak from his shoulders and dropped it to the sand. He glanced down at the garments he wore―a white loose-flowing tunic and white wide-legged pants. The tribesman who once owned the clothes had long ago stopped caring about worldly belongings. His eyes had been put out. His throat cut.
He settled onto a nearby boulder and unhooked the leather flask he had taken from the valley from his belt. If the hill tribes were famous for anything besides warring, it was distilling good rum. He sampled the brew with a hearty swallow. It warmed his insides like a brick from the Fiery Abyss and momentarily took his breath away.
Devoid of all human life, the landscape was stark and beautiful. His thoughts drifted haphazardly, but always Tannith’s face returned to float before his eyes. Did he love her? Could love be born in such travail? Or was it only a passion felt between two people continually thrown together in circumstances of war? Would they feel the same when the quest was over? When all the pieces of the Cross were found, when Sernon had been dealt with, and their kingdoms restored?
He ran a hand over his jaw. He needed a shave and a good barber. Last evening Tannith complained about the stubble scraping her cheek. He smiled inwardly.
He looked to the east toward Dragonbane. Would he fit with her way of life…with her people? What would be expected of him? Would she want him as her consort? He laughed derisively and stared down at his callused palms. He had chosen the life of a soldier long ago. He despised the pampered dandies of the court and the way they lived, simpering nobles of all stations, vying for favor. He would suffocate in the opulence.
Tannith deserved better, someone who would revel in court life. Someone, like Etan…What was a princess doing out here anyway? What were any of them doing here? What was this madness threatening to engulf them all? He could kill Dannock-Shae—of that he had no qualms. Even Sernon he could kill, given the right circumstances. But what would it achieve? Would anything be different? Would it bring back his family? Would it take away the pain of the guilt he carried on his shoulders every morning he awoke?
He ran his hand over his eyes.
Probably not, but his fate was sealed from the moment he rescued the Elisian Princess in the forest. He knew that now.
He sensed the moment she approached.
“What are you doing?” she asked softly from behind him.
“Admiring the view.”
She settled on the boulder beside him. “It is lovely out here.” She sighed. “But should we not be leaving?”
He dropped a kiss on her nose and came to his feet holding out his hand to her. “I was waiting for you to wake.” He stared at the ruby cliffs in the distance. “If we head due south by Ohma’s reckoning we should encounter the pass before noon.”
She took his hand and stood. Shading her eyes, she followed his gaze. “There is nothing there but a steep escarpment.”
He nodded. “Then let us hope it is all Dannock-Shae sees.”
****
Fifteen leagues away, three travelers sat around a campfire, focused on the fourth member of their party. He opened his eyes, slumped back against his bedroll, and stretched as if waking from a deep slumber.
