The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  Lifting his hands into the light, he frowned at the faint glitter of dust across their surface. He scrubbed it on his pants and continued hiking. Gradually the tingling stopped. Very odd, he thought. I’ll have to avoid that from now on.

  A few more minutes of steady climbing brought him to a break in the trees. He stood on a ridge, looking out over the island. His boat looked like a toy and beyond the boat was an unbroken expanse of blue. Shifting the other way, he realized he was within a few paces of the summit.

  Hitching up the pack on his back, he lowered his head and started walking again. He crested the summit a short while later and strode through the grasses at the top, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. The summit was a flat meadow, filled with birds and insects. A few straggling flowers in yellow and orange dotted the landscape.

  He crossed the meadow and halted on the other ridge, staring down into a vast valley that stretched away before him. It extended as far as the eye could see, disappearing into another thick forest of trees and gradually climbing into a set of foothills on the opposite side.

  Jax glanced at the valley, but his attention was riveted on the strange dome that rose from the valley floor, its hexagon shaped windows reflecting back the sunlight and glittering like lodegems.

  Jax caught his breath and felt the hair on the nape of his neck rise. Brodie had told him tales of alien creatures living on this island, but he’d thought they were bedtime stories used to frighten children into going to sleep. The fishermen called this place Delure. Jax had been intrigued just enough to try finding it. Mostly he’d wanted to prove to Brodie that he was a good enough sailor. Even though Brodie had taught him himself, he was skeptical. Jax had taken the challenge. He hadn’t really expected to find anything here.

  He fingered the hilt of his blade. He’d never been one for carrying a sword. He hated to be encumbered, but he could do some damage with the dagger. And yet, he didn’t know what sort of creatures might have made the hexagon building in the valley below him. There was no movement around it, no indication that anything alive lived inside. Perhaps it was abandoned.

  Never one to flee a challenge, Jax started down the other side of the hill.

  He’d left Temeron five years ago to see Kazden…well, to see the ocean. His friends had told him that it was a stupid venture to take. However, looking at the ocean hadn’t been enough. He’d watched the boats troll in and out of the harbor and he’d known that he had to learn to sail.

  Enter Brodie and the strange friendship that had occupied the next five years. Brodie was an old, gnarled fisherman, who scraped out a meager living through the siege and after. Brodie Daegan had more stories to tell than Jax had ever heard. He suspected half of them were lies, but Jax didn’t care. Brodie knew how to sail and Jax was a willing pupil. Beyond that, Brodie didn’t mind taking Jax’s Lodenian coin either.

  Jax wasn’t sure if Brodie considered him a friend, but it didn’t matter. Whenever they shared a pitcher of ale in the tavern or went fishing in the bay, Brodie didn’t seem to mind his company, and he even shook his head in fond bemusement when his Stravad client did something incredibly stupid.

  Jax hoped this wasn’t one of those stupid things. When he thought about it logically, it didn’t make much sense to go marching toward that hexagon without knowing exactly what he faced. He wasn’t even sure he knew what he intended to do. He didn’t think he intended to knock on the front door, but sometimes even he couldn’t predict what his impulsive nature might cause him to do.

  Caution won out and he paused at the bottom of the hill, hiding behind a tree on the edge of the valley. From here, he could see the hexagon and the area directly in front of it. It still appeared to be abandoned, but no one had ever died from being too cautious – at least he didn’t think they had.

  A rustle in the tree branches distracted him. He whipped around and looked over his shoulder. He couldn’t see anything, but more rustling followed the first bout. He eased back into the trees and crouched down, moving in the direction of the sound, shuffling forward in an undignified squat. Some hero, he thought.

  He saw a number of the glittering rocks and circled around them, avoiding any contact with his skin. The bark of the trees was rough and brittle beneath his fingers, flaking away as he clung to it.

  The forest jutted out at the base of the mountains, then sloped back. He eased his way to the farthest point, which afforded him a clear view down the entire line of foothills. He caught his breath and gripped the trunk. A short distance away stood a group of strange creatures, pulling low-hanging branches from the trees and piling them on a tarp.

  There were three in all – man height, wearing long tunics and loose fitting trousers. Their feet were covered in a soft-soled shoe and they wore protective gloves on their hands. Their skin was an opalescent green, so pale he wouldn’t have noticed the greenish tint if the sun hadn’t been shining directly on them. From the crown of their forehead to the nape of their neck ran a thick band of white hair. Two of them had the strip of hair tied up in a horse’s tail.

  The creatures didn’t notice him, didn’t sense him in any way, but Jax felt a sudden wash of anxiety. Something was making him squirm and he brushed a hand across his ear as if to dislodge an insect. He stopped in mid-motion. The sound in his ear wasn’t the sound of an insect, it was the sound of voices – thoughts, humming at a frantic pace.

  At the same moment, the creature closest to him looked up. Jax felt its gaze pierce him. Its eyes were like two onyx spheres, larger than a man’s and round. Jax was torn between the strange beauty of the creature and the annoying buzzing in his head.

  Then something landed on his shoulder. He jerked around and reared away, dislodging the long-fingered hand that gripped him. He landed on his backside and scrambled back. The creature looming over him was at least eight feet tall with a long, sloped forehead devoid of hair and skin so pale it glowed in the sunlight. Its eyes also glittered like onyx, no pupils distinguishable in the iris.

  Jax narrowed his eyes as the buzzing increased, hammering against his eardrums and vibrating in his skull. He covered his ears with his hand, curling in on himself, but his head jerked up a moment later.

  The buzzing wasn’t in his ears, it was in his skull, pulsating in his brain. Thousands and thousands of thoughts, questions, exclamations.

  “Stop!” he shouted, clutching his head, but the buzzing only increased in alarm.

  The creature held out its long fingered hand, but Jax had seen enough. He scrambled to his feet and bolted, crashing blindly into the undergrowth and climbing with both hands toward the summit.

  He fell and slid downward many times, scraping his hands on the brambles, tearing holes in his clothes. Once his pack caught on a branch and he swung wildly to be free, afraid they’d caught up with him. The branch broke and threw him backwards. He landed on his side, catching his ribs and thigh on a rock. He rolled away and looked behind him. No one was in pursuit and the humming in his head had grown dull.

  He rolled into a sitting position, protecting his ribs, and studied the rend in his trousers. A long gash ran the length of his hip and outer thigh. He grimaced and shrugged out of his pack, opening it and reaching for his medicinal kit. He pulled out a roll of bandages. The glittering dirt from the rock had gone into the cut, so he didn’t feel any pain, but he worried it might become infected. Using some of his precious water, he washed the dirt away, then bound it with the bandages. Taking a sip, he capped the water and put it away, then climbed gingerly to his feet. The leg bore his weight. Actually, it was numb. This alarmed him, but he reasoned it was probably for the best. He had a long hike ahead of him to get back to the shore, and then a swim out to his boat.

  With a final look behind, Jax Paden began his long climb once more, grateful when the hum of thoughts finally faded entirely and he was left with only the single thoughts of his own mind.

  * * *

  Brodie Daegan was a wiry, weathered old man. The sun had baked his s
kin a brown as dark as any Stravad. It had created craters around his eyes and mouth. It had made the skin on his hands like leather. He stared at himself in the mirror over the bar and smiled. He was proud of his face. It was a like a map to all the lands he’d ever visited.

  A motion in the mirror over his shoulder brought him around on the stool. Jax Paden was limping into the bar, a crutch under one shoulder. Jax was the only person Brodie knew who made him feel old and wrinkled.

  Jax had that flawless regality of a full-blooded Stravad, a perfection of features and form that few Humans could ever claim. But right now, Jax looked like hell. His once lustrous brown hair looked limp and unwashed, and his cheeks were sunken.

  Brodie climbed off his stool and pushed one out for his friend, eyeing him critically. “Greyburn, get Jax a tankard of ale,” he called to the bartender. “Sit down. You look awful.”

  Jax gave him a painful smile and sank onto the stool. He was a good six inches taller than Brodie.

  “What’d you do to your leg?”

  Jax leaned heavily on the bar. He held up a hand and closed his eyes, tightening his lips against his teeth. After a moment, he straightened a little and shot a weary smile at Greyburn as the bartender put the tankard in front of him. “Thanks,” he muttered, reaching into his pocket.

  Brodie stopped his hand and threw a few coins on the bar himself. Greyburn gathered them, then moved away, his eyes fixed on the Stravad as well.

  Taking a swallow of the ale, Jax placed it on the bar. Brodie noticed his hand shook. Shifting toward the old man, the Stravad forced another smile. “I found it, Brodie.”

  “You found it? What did you find…” Brodie’s voice trailed away. He leaned closer to Jax. “Delure? You found the island?”

  Jax nodded. His eyes seemed unnaturally bright, glittering in his gaunt face. “I found Delure.”

  Brodie dropped his eyes to Jax’s leg. It was splinted and heavily bandaged. “What the hell happened?”

  Jax shrugged the concern away. “I fell. Listen, I saw them. The aliens? I saw them.”

  Brodie sank back in his seat. “Really? You sure?”

  “As sure as I’m sitting here talking to you. They were strange, so odd, I’ve never seen anything like them.”

  “Tell me,” said Brodie, forgetting his own tankard.

  “There were two kinds. One was pale green with white hair. The other…” He paused and gave a theatrical shiver. “Tall as a sapling and pale, so very pale.” Jax leaned closer. “It touched me.”

  Brodie blinked a few times, then shut his mouth. He hadn’t realized he’d had it open. “It touched you?”

  Jax nodded and reached for his tankard again. He took a deep swallow, then closed his eyes, letting the liquid flow down his throat.

  “What’d you do?”

  Jax let out a weak bark of laughter. “Ran. Ran like hell. That’s how I tripped. Cut my leg and got dirt in the cut. This odd glittery dirt, looked like ground up lodegems…or, pycantra as you call it.”

  “Did the aliens follow you?”

  Jax shook his head. “No, didn’t seem too concerned about me at all, except…”

  “Except?”

  Jax glanced at Greyburn. Brodie did the same. The bartender was trying not to look like he was listening, but it was obvious he was interested. Jax motioned Brodie closer. “I could hear them.” He tapped a finger against his temple.

  Brodie tapped a finger against his own temple and frowned. “Hear them? They was speaking?”

  Jax licked the ale off his upper lip and shook his head. “No, not speaking. Thinking. I could hear them in my head.”

  Brodie leaned back. “Like some Stravad can do – you know, talk with their minds?”

  “Yeah, but this was many voices, hundreds. Like a hundred people speaking all at once.” Jax narrowed his eyes in memory. “It hurt. It hurt like my head was gonna explode. That’s mostly why I ran.”

  Brodie sat in silence for a moment, thinking. He wasn’t sure what to make of Jax’s story. Not that he didn’t believe him, but it seemed so incredible. He rotated on the stool and picked up his drink, sipping thoughtfully. Emptying his tankard, he nodded at Jax’s leg.

  “You been to see a healer?”

  Jax exhaled.

  Brodie shifted and eyed him closely. Jax sure did look bad. He looked like he hadn’t been eating regularly and there were faint lines around his eyes. “Jax?”

  Jax blinked and looked up at him as if he just remembered Brodie was there. “They can’t help me. It’s too far gone. They wanted to cut my leg off, but I wouldn’t let them.”

  Brodie made a face. “That bad?”

  “You don’t want to know.” Jax shook his head. “No, the only thing I can do is go home.”

  “Go home? You gonna travel all that way with a bum leg?”

  Jax nodded. “I met some kinsmen at the market who promised they’d see me home. I don’t have any choice, Brodie. I’m not gonna let them cut off my leg. Besides, I started coughing up blood the other day.”

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah, I think some of that glittery dust got in my lungs too.” He exhaled again. “Nope, I’m going home to the best healers on all of Samar, the best healers in the world. I’m going home to Temeron, Brodie.”

  CHAPTER 1

  The boy was fifteen, not yet a man. His ceremony for manhood would take place the coming Valhall and then he’d be expected to execute the role of a full Nazarien warrior. Since his tenth birthday, he had trained for this role in Chernow. It had never been questioned that he would be a Nazarien warrior. His father had been Nazar and his brother was Nazar. Should his brother die in battle, Tyne would be expected to fill his place.

  Tyne was proud of his pre-warrior status; he was proud of the single medallion that hung from his left earlobe -- the scythe of the Nazarien. He’d be even prouder after the coming Valhall when a second hole was punched in his lobe and he was given the Star of Eldon medallion to wear, marking him a full-fledged warrior and a man.

  His father had made the first hole in his ear when he was ten, when he’d first officially joined the order. His father had been Nazar then. During the same ceremony, his father had punched a fourth hole in his brother’s ear, adding the Falcon medallion to the other three, marking his brother as the Nazar and releasing himself from the office.

  Tyne’s brother would make the second hole in Tyne’s ear during the ceremony of manhood. Then he’d be expected to take a young Nazarien woman and attempt to implant a child in her womb. Although the Nazarien were primarily a celibate order, procreation was extremely important and the strength of a warrior was often marked by his ability to impregnate a newly made woman the first time they attempted procreation.

  Although it was wrong for a Nazarien to admit he looked forward to such acts of procreation, Tyne was excited. He’d never been with a woman before, he’d never even seen one unclothed. Something inside of him told him it was time.

  He couldn’t understand why a man as powerful as his brother declined all procreation ceremonies, going into seclusion instead, fasting and praying for days. None of the Nazarien questioned his brother’s ways, none of them ever remarked that he ought to have at least one son by now, if not many, and his brother never seemed to notice anything was wrong. Still Tyne worried.

  The Nazarien expected a Nazar to spread his seed freely among the Nazarien women, having a multitude of children to follow him. Tyne’s own father, Tomlin Trauner, had unfortunately only produced two before he died. Tyne had been chosen to follow his brother, if his brother should die before he passed leadership on to a son of his own blood.

  Tyne lifted his blue eyes to his brother’s face. He placed the broken bow down beside him and moved forward to stir up the fire.

  The Nazar looked at him from across the fire and his eyes glimmered in the dancing light. “How are you coming with that bow?” he said, nodding at the weapon beside Tyne.

  “The sinew keeps slipping through my fing
ers. I don’t think I’ll ever get it right...” He caught himself. A Nazarien warrior never admitted defeat.

  The blue Stravad eyes of his brother glinted in amusement, but his face was stern. “Keep trying,” he said and laid the arrow he’d been working on aside.

  Tyne picked up the bow and tried to draw the new sinew down to the other end of the wood, but it slipped through his fingers again. He sighed and grasped it, determined that he wouldn’t disappoint himself or his brother by failing.

  The Nazar watched him from the corners of his eyes as he fixed the feathers into the shaft of the new arrow. The sinew escaped Tyne again, but he took hold of it once more. A smile tugged at the corners of the Nazar’s lips, but he suppressed it, laying a second arrow beside the first.

  “There!” said Tyne, exhaling his held breath. He lifted the bow for his brother to see and the Nazar nodded, looking down at his own work again.

  Tyne laid the bow across his lap and watched his brother handle the arrows. He didn’t expect praise. The simple nod was enough, more than he’d ever received from his father. In fact, if Tyne had been bold enough to admit it, his brother had been more of a father to him in the last ten years than his own father had. Yet it wasn’t fair of Tyne to expect his father to take more than a passing interest in him. The only son that truly mattered was his first, born through the joining of pure Nazar blood -- his grandfather having been Andoloshian, the Nazar of Talar Eldralin’s time, and his father being Tomlin Trauner.

  Tyne glanced up at the stars overhead. Dawn was coming, a faint pink touching the edge of blue. A week ago, Tyne and his brother had entered Loden. He’d never seen the verdant land far to the west, but one thing he knew he wouldn’t soon forget was the beautiful, warm dawns. In Nevaisser, the sun simply rose, but in Loden, the sky paraded before the sun, enticing her into rising.