The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  He fought a laugh and stepped away from the wagon. He was liking her far too much for his own comfort.

  She rose to her feet and rubbed her legs to ease their stiffness, then she climbed off the end of the wagon. As she rounded the back of it, the soldiers moved to block her. Kalas nodded at Dolan to back them off and he motioned them back to a respectable distance. Still, he kept his body between Kalas and her.

  She gave him a look, then pressed between him and the wagon, coming to a halt directly in front of Kalas. Kalas exchanged a wry look with his second. Dolan didn’t appear amused. In fact, he looked ready to blow…if he hadn’t been Nazarien, that is.

  As he turned back to Ellette, Kalas was reminded that she was nearly the same height as he was, not that such a thing was any great feat, but it made him want to back away. He held his ground instead.

  “Where would you have me?”

  Kalas blinked at her. “Say again?”

  “Where would you have me? Dolan always takes your right side and Attis has most frequently been on your left. Where should I stand?”

  Kalas exhaled. “Nowhere. Let me make this clear. You are not my guardian, Mediocre Assassin.”

  “Well, I am no longer your prisoner…” She held up her naked wrists. “What does that leave me?”

  “I don’t know. You are free to go if you choose or you may continue riding in the wagon. We lost all of our provisions, so I’ve nothing to offer you there, but I can give you transportation into Kazden. It’s entirely your choice.”

  “I choose to serve you,” she answered stubbornly.

  “It doesn’t work that way. I’m King, I get to pick and I’m not picking you.”

  “You doubt my ability?”

  “Certainly not. I doubt your allegiance.”

  “And how do I prove that?”

  “You have. You were the first assassin to strike. I need nothing more.”

  A crafty look crossed her face. “Ah, but then I struck a second time.” She took the rock from her pocket and held it up to him. “I saved your life.”

  “But you said he didn’t intend to kill me. You said you didn’t save my life.”

  “But you are King and you said I did.”

  Kalas looked down to hide his smile. He could feel Dolan’s frown. “You are free to ride in the wagon as far as Kazden. From there, you must find your own way. My debt is then paid to you for your skill with rocks.”

  She didn’t move. “The next attack will not be to frighten you off. It will be real.”

  Kalas lifted his eyes to her face. Her gaze never wavered. He took a step away from her. Sometimes her intensity felt like a force pushing him back. He reminded himself she was Nazarien and Nazarien never did anything by half measures. Never. Not even killing.

  * * *

  Tyla opened her eyes. Two things struck her at once. First, she was standing, but she was sure she’d been asleep. Second, she had no idea where she was. Fog had crept into the campsite, covering everything in a strange misty glow. Daylight must have come also because she could see clearly for a few feet on either side of her, but nothing else was visible.

  A sense of panic tightened in her chest. She remembered lying down on her cot in her tent. They had crossed the Boline Plain and made camp beside the banks of the Hottan River, waiting for the barge to take them downstream come morning. And yet, somehow she was standing outside the tent, lost in the fog off the water, wandering around without realizing she’d even gotten out of bed.

  Where were Allistar and her men? Where was Jarrett?

  She fought the panic. It didn’t do any good to be afraid. Somehow she’d fallen into a very deep sleep and walked out of camp. She’d never done anything like that before, but she’d heard of other people doing it. In fact, for a few years, Kerrin had awakened her in the middle of the night by walking around the house in his sleep.

  Someone was coming. She could see him striding toward her, parting the fog as he came. She squinted, but she didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t as tall as any of her warriors and certainly not as tall as Jarrett. She felt a moment of annoyance. Why wouldn’t Jarrett have noticed she was gone? Why wasn’t he coming after her?

  Suddenly she was aware that the emerald was thrumming with a strange sort of energy. She reached up and closed her hand around it, alarmed by its reaction. It wasn’t heating like it did when she was in danger, but it was vibrating against her skin.

  The fog made everything odd – ethereal and difficult to see. She looked around again, wondering if she shouldn’t try to find her way back, but there weren’t even any trees to use as landmarks. Maybe the man approaching her had seen the camp and could point her in the right direction.

  She turned back to him. He had slowed as he approached and she could feel the probe of his eyes. He looked confused, wary. She didn’t think she presented an intimidating figure, but the glow of the emerald might be a bit worrisome.

  “Hello?” she called. She started toward him, then stopped. He was familiar.

  An odd feeling moved through her and rooted her to the spot.

  He gave a visible shake and continued toward her. “Hello,” he said.

  Tyla’s fingers tightened on the emerald and she took a step back. “Who are you?”

  He halted before her. He was obviously Stravad, full blood, and of a singular beauty. His hair flowed in a shimmering mantle of black to his shoulders and his eyes were a blue so clear, she’d never seen their like before…except once. He had Kalas’ eyes.

  “Talar?”

  Those blue eyes searched her face, moving rapidly over every feature, then they lowered to the emerald. “Who are you?”

  Tyla tried to answer him, but the words wouldn’t come. She knew she should be alarmed by what was happening, but it was so incredible she didn’t want to lose the moment. Tears blinded her and she blinked them back. Swallowing hard, she cleared her throat.

  “I’m your daughter, Tyla,” she whispered.

  He reared back, his eyes widening. “Tyla?”

  She realized his accent was strange, part Nazarien, part something else. “What is this place?”

  He blinked, then looked around. “The mist…or that’s what I’ve always called it. I’ve never been sure.”

  “Is it real?”

  “Yes and no. It feels real, doesn’t it?”

  She exhaled and released her death grip on the emerald. “Yes, it feels real.” She drank him in, wanting to remember everything about him, the way one brow lifted above the other, the cast of his features. She’d seen so many likenesses of him, so many drawings and renditions, but none were the same when faced with the man who had become nothing but a legend to her. He seemed so real, so solid, so alive…and yet her logical mind told her it was an illusion. “Have I lost my mind?”

  He laughed. “I always thought I had, and I’m not sure I hadn’t.” His gaze lowered to the emerald again. “I always thought it was connected to the emerald. Carry it long enough and it’s bound to do strange things to you.” He frowned. “I’m sorry, but this is all so…” Words failed him.

  She took a step closer and reached out to touch his arm. She jumped when her hand made contact. He looked alarmed as well, but he lifted his other hand and covered the backs of her fingers. She felt his eyes searching her face again, then he lifted his hand and fingered a curl.

  “You have your mother’s curls,” he said in a strange, wistful voice.

  “Can I see her?”

  His expression shifted to one of confusion and he shook his head. “I don’t think it works that way.”

  “This is a dream, right?”

  “A little more than a dream. There’s a connection binding those who touch the emerald.”

  “Did this happen to you?”

  His eyes drifted away as if he were trying to remember. “I’m not sure.” He shook his head, then frowned. “I think so, but I…I’m not sure.”

  Truthfully, she didn’t care whether it was a dream or not. He
was here before her and that was enough. Elaborate trick of her mind or some odd aberration of the emerald, he was here. Tears filled her eyes again.

  “I always wished we could have a moment like this, just a moment to talk.”

  His gaze snapped back to her face. “Tyla?” he repeated. “You have your mother’s eyes.”

  “And Kalas has yours.”

  “Kalas?” His look sharpened. “How is Kalas?”

  “Well. He has done so well. You’d be proud of him.”

  “And you?”

  She smiled, blinded by her tears. “I’ve done all right. You have a grandson. His name is Kerrin. You would be proud of him too.”

  Talar absorbed this information. “So much I’ve lost, so much I’ve never gotten to see.” He fingered a curl again. “I wish your mother could see you. You look so like her.”

  She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. “I wish I could see her too, but I’m grateful that I’ve been able to see you.”

  His blue eyes narrowed on her. “Something isn’t right.”

  She felt a shiver and her smile dried. “What?”

  “I feel something. Something isn’t right. What is it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He frowned again. “You need to go back. You can’t stay here.”

  “Just a few more minutes. There’s so much I want to ask you, so much I need to know.”

  He gently pulled away. “Tyla, you need to go back. Now.”

  She let him disengage his hand and he took a step away from her. She didn’t want to let him go, she wanted to hang onto this moment just a bit longer, but he was already moving backward, letting the mist swirl around him, obscure him from her sight.

  “Go back, Tyla,” he admonished.

  “I don’t know how,” she said, clutching the emerald. She felt the chill of her own tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Think it. Will it. Go back now.”

  His voice faded away as he disappeared into the gathering fog. Tyla stared after him, wanting a final glimpse, a final look, but he was gone. She closed her eyes and drew a hitching breath. She couldn’t believe how much it hurt to watch him walk away from her.

  When she opened her eyes again, she found herself staring at the tent fabric. She sat up quickly, then regretted it. Her head ached and her skin felt hot and tight. She rolled over and reached for the glass of water on the floor by the cot, draining it. As she lay back down again, her hand touched the emerald and she felt that same odd thrumming that had been in her dream.

  Lifting it, she stared into its surface, but gradually the vibrations stopped and it lay dormant. It had been a dream, nothing more, but she couldn’t deny it had felt real. She pushed back the covers and sat up, swinging her feet to the ground. She would take some Stamerian, then go back to sleep for a few more hours. They had a long day ahead of them.

  Reaching up, she brushed back her hair, then pressed her fingers to her eyes. When she drew them away, she realized her fingertips were wet with her own tears.

  CHAPTER 8

  “What is it?” asked Jarrett, staring at the box-shaped vehicle bouncing against the dock.

  Tyla gave him an annoyed look. “A barge? You’ve never seen one before?”

  Jarrett squinted at it. “What’s it do?”

  “It’ll take us downstream where we can pick up the trail into the Groziks.”

  “Why?”

  Tyla fought a smile. “See those?” She pointed to the team of muscular oxen being hitched to the side of the barge. Jarrett nodded. “They are stronger and more resilient than our horses. They can travel for greater distances without rest and pull an enormous amount of weight. We’re going to load everything on the barge, horses and stores and men, then we’re going to sit back and let the oxen help us get to the trail head.”

  “Sounds slow. We’d make better time if we rode.”

  “We’d also wear the horses out just before the climb into the mountains. Why do that? This doesn’t really add much time to the journey, only hours, in fact.” She gave him a severe look. “You’re afraid.”

  He glanced at her and away. “Nazarien are never afraid.”

  Tyla wasn’t sure, but his tone sounded almost playful, mocking. If so, it would be the first time since he’d returned to Temeron.

  “…and certainly not of cows,” he added.

  She smiled. He was being funny. It was so delightful, she wanted to hug him for it, but she stopped herself. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to confuse the situation. Shouldering her pack, she wandered onto the dock.

  The barge master tipped his cap at her. “Stravad Leader.”

  “Ren. How are your wife and son?”

  “Well, the boy will be two this next month.”

  Tyla smiled, but when he reached to help her on board, she waved him off. “Don’t you dare. You know I can take care of myself,” she scolded.

  He laughed and backed away. “Right you are.”

  She stepped onto the barge and moved to a bench directly under the wheelhouse. Placing her pack beside her, she settled back and closed her eyes. A cool breeze blew off the water, soothing her hot skin. She wouldn’t admit it to Jarrett, but she was grateful for a day off horseback.

  She felt him sit down across from her. “You all right?” he asked.

  She opened her eyes. “Tired. I forgot how hard travel is. I’ve gotten soft.”

  He braced his arms on his thighs and clasped his hands, but he didn’t answer.

  Allistar vaulted onto the barge. “Everything’s loaded, Stravad Leader. The horses are settled.”

  “Thank you,” she answered.

  He nodded, then glanced at Jarrett. Jarrett didn’t acknowledge him. With a lift of his brows, Allistar moved toward the rear of the barge where his men were arranged on the deck. Tyla thought the exchange odd, but she wasn’t sure how to voice that observation. She studied Jarrett’s bowed head. The earrings in his left ear glimmered in the sunlight, almost mocking her with what might have been. She hated them, hated especially the symbol of the Nazarien on him.

  The barge lurched forward and Jarrett grabbed the edges of the bench, his head coming up. He looked around in alarm, then felt her gaze on him.

  “You are afraid,” she teased.

  He gave her a severe frown. “It’s unnatural.”

  “What do you think it’ll be like if we do find this Brodie person and get him to sail us to the island? We’re not talking about a river any longer.”

  “I’ll still think it’s unnatural.”

  She nodded over her shoulder. “What’s with you and Allistar?”

  Jarrett glanced toward his friend. “Nothing.”

  She let him have his secret. She could find out if she wanted, but it didn’t really matter. They’d work it out some way. It likely had nothing to do with her. “Can I ask you something?”

  His gaze shifted to her. She was struck again with how much he looked like his son. Longing for Kerrin filled her, but she forced it back. “Is it hard for you to maintain the tenants of the Nazarien faith?”

  He sat back in surprise. For a moment he didn’t speak and she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. Then he looked out over the water. “Harder than you can imagine.” With a sigh, he braced his arms on his thighs again. “I had this stupid idea that I could change things once I became Nazar.”

  “You said that before. But you couldn’t?”

  He shook his head and swallowed hard. “I made things worse. Much worse.”

  “What, exactly?”

  He lifted his eyes and pinned her with his gaze. She felt a flutter against her thoughts, a touch, nothing more. It reminded her so of what they had shared in the past. “I don’t want to talk about it, Tyla,” he said.

  She hugged her pack to her, disappointed. Even if she had wanted to change things, too much had happened to distance them from each other. They’d each led such separate lives. She forced herself to nod.
<
br />   “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She shrugged. “It isn’t my business.”

  “It’s just that I thought I would have more control, more pull, but that isn’t the case. The Nazarien are so deeply entrenched, it’s impossible to move them.” He rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “I feel like a perpetrator and I hate it. Everything I thought I’d be able to do was wrong. They reacted in ways I never could have predicted, violent, reprehensible ways.” He closed his eyes. “And I caused it.”

  She wanted to touch him, soothe him, but she didn’t. She tightened her grip on her pack and watched him struggle with himself. “Jarrett?”

  He opened his eyes and focused on her.

  “We only control those things we do ourselves. We can’t control the actions of others.”

  “I wish I believed that, Tyla, but I don’t. We ought to be able to make things better for people, not worse.”

  “That’s why we keep trying. Why we don’t give up. Why we go on insane missions that have little chance of success. Do you follow me?”

  He gave her a half-smile. “I do. You’re right. We have to try this, as crazy as I think it is. We have to try.”

  She returned his smile and leaned back against the wheelhouse, content in the moment, content just to sit here with the river breeze blowing over her and the man she once loved sitting across from her. For right now, it was enough.

  * * *

  Kalas pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it on the cot. He reached for the knife he’d placed in his boot and laid it on the camp table by the wash basin. Pouring water into the basin, he grabbed the cloth and immersed it in the water, then wrung it out and wiped a little of the desert from his body. Dropping the cloth on the table, he bent over the basin and splashed the water directly onto his face with both hands. The coolness of it felt good against his sun burnt skin.

  Reaching for the towel, he dried his face, then hesitated. A shiver of apprehension snaked its way up his spine and crawled across his scalp. He lowered the towel, deliberately placing it over the knife, then drew the knife from its sheath as silently as he could.

  Whipping around, he brought the knife up in front of him. His assailant gave a gasp and jumped back, wide blue eyes fixed on the blade.