would first have to wait out the wound; a wound like his warranted no less than a week to heal. He made his way up to Dahkar and rode back to the house, where the shadowed people lay in massive pools of dark syrup. He wasted no time in heading inside and to the wall of children, and his face brooded with contempt, and his eyes became sullen and expressionless. He reached for the drawing of his little girl, clutched it in his hands and placed it inside his vest.
Before heading out the door, he stopped near a table full of candles all lined up in a row. Grabbing his long blade, he made a swift cut, sending the tops of the candles to the floor, bursting into flames and igniting the black blood. He ran outside to take in the night’s air and barked at the moon.
“Bastard child!” he said to the cosmic vagrant. “Be more like the stars!”
Time withered away as he stood in contemplation, sometimes bending in agony as a result of the wound. Dahkar walked over to him and lent him a warm body for him to lean on.
“Dahkar,” said Vohro, “the girl, my sweet child, told me to turn and walk away, but I will do no such thing.” Dahkar snorted in agreement, fully supporting his master’s wishes. “I will seek her until I draw my last breath, like a shepherd eternally searching for his lost sheep. I can do nothing else.”
He picked up his sleeveless garment which slept on the floor, safe from all the animosity that had transpired, and quickly put it on as he mounted his horse. And as the curved house stood burning in the breaking of dawn, with flames reaching towards the beginning of an orange sun, Vohro dusted off his garment, grabbed the reins of his horse and raised his head to the stars. Most had already disappeared in the blueness of the morning sky, but there were some that sat faintly against the soft horizon.
And he saw it; a phantasm likeness of that which he sought, not as strong as it once was, but nevertheless still there, skipping about the cosmos of the morning’s canvas. The tall rider’s eyes grew in width. Those eyes, who were now kin to the sun, bloomed once again with a sense of purpose.
“There she is again, good horse,” he whispered, “calling out to me. I see you, daughter, and I’ll be coming for you.”
***
AFTERWORD
Thank you for purchasing Children of a Sunless Land: The Deaf Swordsman Series No.1. I do hope that it entertained you.
If you are interested by the world of Esterra and its colorful characters, please take a look at my debut novel, Sword from the Sky here.
Children of a Sunless Land (The Deaf Swordsman Series No. 1) Page 6