The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  He looked down at the hand resting so intimately against his flesh. It had been a long time since he’d felt her touch, any woman’s touch. Glancing up at her with a glint of mischief in his dark eyes, he asked, “Shall I toss you down again?”

  A smile touched the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps,” she said and gasped as he did so.

  * * *

  Aiden woke when it was still dark. Carona had dressed as he slept and turned her back to him, her form unwelcoming in the dim light. He sighed and ran a hand through his sleep tousled hair. Their mating had been quick and rather unsatisfying. She’d been more yielding with him than ever before, yet her response was anything but passionate.

  Throwing back the covers, he climbed to his feet. He didn’t think he could bear the look of disgust on her face if she woke with him in her bed. She never seemed reconciled with her choice the next morning.

  Feeling petulant and out of place, he pulled on his trousers, slipped his arms into his shirt and picked up his boots. He carefully found his way to the door and opened it, grimacing when the hinges gave a loud protest.

  She mumbled in her sleep and curled more deeply in on herself, but she didn’t awaken. How she slept so deeply at night after napping all day escaped him. Aiden hadn’t slept deeply in the last seven years. Ironically the time coincided with his reluctant kingship.

  He slipped into the hall and closed her door, cringing inwardly when the hinges protested yet again. He dropped his boots to the ground and bent to pull them on. From the corner of his eyes he caught the sly smile the two guards exchanged at his appearance. Aiden bristled at it. It wasn’t enough that his every movement was watched, but the damn attendants had to know even when he lay with his wife.

  Lord, how sick he was of the entire situation. If only there was some way for him to get out, but as there was none, it didn’t do much good to chafe at the bit. He turned toward his own room at the other end of the hall and then stopped. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep now, he was strung as tight as a spring, so there was no use in tossing and turning until dawn.

  Sighing heavily, he headed down the other end of the hallway and to the stairs. He hadn’t visited Alasdair today, perhaps his younger brother was still awake, pouring over some volume or another.

  Alasdair was awake and he looked up at Aiden as the King approached the table on which he worked. He blinked at his older brother with his huge dilated eyes as if he didn’t recognize him. Then his face lightened and he rose to his feet, catching Aiden in a rare embrace.

  Aiden was startled for a moment. First Adison had shown some misbegotten concern for him, then Carona had allowed him in her bed, and now Alasdair welcomed him as he only did when Aiden had been younger and prone to wandering far away.

  “I heard about your scare of the morning, Aiden. I’m so glad you’re all right, but I didn’t expect to see you so late.”

  Aiden glanced down at the pile of books on Alasdair’s table. “You should get some sleep, Alasdair,” he said, regarding his wane, thin brother critically. “Have you eaten anything today?”

  Curses, why was it his eternal duty to look out for everyone except himself, although with Alasdair he was truly concerned.

  Alasdair’s frail health wasn’t conjured like Carona’s. He really was frail and unconscious about his own well-being. It brought out the deepest, most protective feelings inside of Aiden. The King often worried about what would happen to his absent minded brother if he died. Again he felt a stab of guilt over his carelessness of the morning. If those men had accosted him as they surely planned, where would Alasdair be now?

  “It was slavers, Aiden, sure enough.”

  Aiden grimaced and pulled away from his brother. “What are you talking about? Is that all that’s on your mind anymore?”

  “It should be all that’s on your mind, Aiden.”

  Aiden exhaled in exasperation and rifled through the books on Alasdair’s table. “As if there isn’t enough there already.”

  Alasdair grabbed his brother’s arm in a grip that was surprisingly strong. “They should be your primary concern because they’re the biggest threat to your kingdom and yet you don’t believe they exist.”

  Aiden stared at the hand on his arm in surprise, then looked up into his brother’s glassy eyes. “Evidence, Alasdair, I need some concrete evidence to act upon. Do you have any?”

  “This morning’s attack wasn’t enough?”

  “Good land, man, what would slavers want with me?”

  Alasdair stared at Aiden as if he were looking at the most simple of children. “What would they want...the kingdom, Aiden. With you out of the way...”

  “They’d get an even worse King into the bargain...”

  “Who would deliberately look the other way while they carried on their practices.”

  Aiden shook his head in exasperation. “No one has come forward to lay claim to your accusations, Alasdair. If these slavers are so abundant, they aren’t trafficking much these days. I remember when slavers were a problem in Nevaisser. Most of the slaves were Stravad and you could buy them on any corner. I haven’t seen anyone for sale lately that hasn’t wished to be sold, if you understand what I mean.”

  Alasdair blushed when he caught the gist of his brother’s words, but it didn’t put him off. “The Protectorates banded together to end the slavery of our past, but it didn’t abolish it. Now these slavers are more discrete, selling to private parties, and not just Stravad, although I don’t understand why that should matter. Slavery is slavery no matter the color your skin and eyes.”

  “On that I’d be agreeing, but on nothing more. I haven’t received a single complaint about slavery...”

  “...except from me...”

  “Except from you and no reports of missing persons in the kingdom. Please stop plaguing yourself with imagined fears. If you want to worry over something, I’ve an entire list you may peruse.”

  Alasdair sighed in disappointment. It bothered Aiden to see his brother disappointed in him for he really did value Alasdair’s opinion, but Alasdair was being completely ridiculous on this point.

  “You haven’t gone into Dorland under disguise like you promised, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t. When would you think I had the time, between being chased by potential slavers, granting hearings, fighting with Carona, or listening to your ravings?”

  Alasdair withdrew in stunned silence. Aiden immediately felt bad. He didn’t like to hurt Alasdair, but he had to somehow stop his brother’s foolishness or he’d worry himself into a fever.

  He put his hands on Alasdair’s narrow shoulders. “Please, brother, stop worrying yourself sick over insubstantials. You don’t sleep, you hardly eat. What would I do if I were to lose you?”

  Alasdair softened under his brother’s concern. “I know I’m right, Aiden,” he persisted.

  Aiden snapped. “Fine, then perhaps they’ll capture me and take me away from this joyous life I’m leading. In fact, at this point, I’d pay them. Slave in private or slave in public, it really makes little difference in the end. Good night, Alasdair.”

  Alasdair flinched from his brother’s wrath and lowered his eyes. “Good night, Aiden,” he said so softly, Aiden didn’t catch the words.

  The King’s jaw clenched in fury and he turned on his heels, stomping toward the door. Oh no, he wasn’t going to be suckered in by another person who wouldn’t speak so he could hear. Whatever was so important to mumble just wasn’t important enough for his waning attention.

  CHAPTER 4

  Amaroq and his two companions walked until dawn peeked over the edge of the cliffs, painting everything in a roseate light. Shandar suggested they halt and leave the main trail, crawling back between the rock formations to get a few hours of sleep.

  Amaroq didn’t want to stop. Every moment meant his sister might be getting further away from them, but Shandar reasoned that the elders would discover their disappearance as soon as Amaroq didn’t show up for council, then t
hey’d send patrols out after them, trying to cut them off before they left the canyon.

  It was better to hide during the day and sleep, than be overtaken and forced to return to the valley. Reason won out and they left the trail, climbing up on the rock formations where they would be hidden from the ground, but able to see any warriors coming down the trail. Shandar also chose the spot based on the angle of the cliffs overhead. He reasoned they’d have shade during the hottest part of the day, and therefore their sleep would be uninterrupted.

  Pulling out their bedrolls, they made a rudimentary campsite. Amaroq opened the bag his mother had given him and distributed the pemmican, the dried jerky mixed with berries and fat. It had been a staple of the Ancients on long journeys, or so Amaroq’s studies had taught him. Now no self-respecting Nazarien ever ventured out into the wilderness without a ready supply of it, but it wasn’t to Amaroq’s taste.

  In the bottom of the bag, he found a wooden container that held travel cakes for himself, also made from berries, but fortified with hearty grains that would stave off hunger. Emotion choked him and he realized this would be the farthest he’d ever been from his mother in his life. After they ate and sipped at the water they’d gathered from the stream, Amaroq agreed to take the first watch.

  Nakoda stretched out immediately, his hands clasped on his belly and in a few minutes, he was asleep. Shandar lay down, but he watched Amaroq for a while. Amaroq knew he feared he would set off without them if they both slept.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know my way out of the canyon,” he told Shandar. “Besides, I wouldn’t do that to you. If I leave, I leave with you knowing.”

  “Just the way you were going to leave last night?”

  “I planned to tell Nakoda, so he could tell you in the morning.”

  Shandar gave a grunt and settled himself.

  “You don’t belong out here, old man. You’re used to sleeping in a comfortable bed in a warm cave.”

  “I’ve spent my fair share of nights on the ground, boy, so don’t you worry about it.”

  “You realize I’m not a boy any longer. I’m well past adulthood.”

  “I raised you from the time you were a pup. You’ll always be a boy to me.”

  “That’s not the way I remember it, but age does make one forget.”

  Shandar swatted at him.

  Amaroq looked around at their surroundings, his arms resting on his bent knees. “How do you know where to pick a campsite? How to avoid patrols?” He reached out and picked up a fallen twig from some long dead tree. “How do you know the way out of the maze?”

  “As you keep reminding me, I’ve lived longer than you have. When you’ve lived this long, you’ll know things too. What do you read in those books anyway?”

  Amaroq sighed. “Many languages, history. We read the Norrad and the books the Ancients left in Chernow. I study maps and literature. I know how to handle every weapon man has invented.” He pointed the stick at Shandar. “But I don’t know the way out of this canyon.”

  Shandar gave a nod, crossing his arms on his chest and adjusting his head on his pack for comfort.

  “You get me to Loden and I’m your man. I can read and write Lodenian, might be able to speak it too.”

  “I speak Lodenian,” said Shandar, closing his eyes.

  Amaroq frowned. “What?”

  The older man cracked one dark blue eye. “I said I speak Lodenian. I don’t need you to translate for me, written or otherwise.”

  “How?”

  “Same way you do. I read it with my eyes, write it with my hands, and when I’ve a mind to, I can speak it with my tongue.”

  Amaroq’s gaze narrowed. “You’ve been to Loden?”

  “I was born in Loden, boy.”

  “Why haven’t you told me that?”

  “There’s much I haven’t told you. The elders wouldn’t allow it. I played along because I wanted to stay with you and your mother, your sister, but I had a life before Tirsbor, boy.”

  “Tell me. Now.”

  “I’m tired, Wolf. I’m an old man. I need my rest.”

  Amaroq slapped the stick against his leg. “You said you weren’t old. You can’t have it both ways.”

  “You can when you hold all of the information.” Shandar closed his eyes again. “Be good and stay where you are, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  Amaroq started to answer.

  “Later,” said Shandar.

  Amaroq smiled. He knew when he’d been had. Shandar knew there was no way he’d sneak off if there was information Shandar had that Amaroq wanted. He found himself curious about Shandar’s past life. There wasn’t a time when he didn’t remember the man being part of his family, but the elders talked about Shandar as if he hadn’t always been in Tirsbor. And Amaroq’s own mother made comments, talked about the time before Shandar came.

  Amaroq had never thought to question it. Shandar was a constant. Like his mother, like his sister, but now that his sister had been taken from him, he suddenly found himself wondering about the rest of his family, what secrets they held.

  “Why don’t the elders want me to leave Tirsbor?” he asked, knowing Shandar wasn’t asleep yet.

  “You’re important to them.”

  “Why?”

  Shandar rolled his head on the pack and looked at Amaroq. “That is a story for another time.” When Amaroq started to protest, Shandar held up a hand. “But I promise you, before this journey’s over, I’ll tell you. Now let me sleep.”

  Amaroq leaned back and studied the older man’s face. It was a face as familiar as his own, but it suddenly seemed foreign, strange. “Keep your secrets, old man,” he grumbled, whipping the stick against his calf. “I don’t need them.”

  Across from him, Shandar smiled.

  * * *

  Amaroq dreamed of his sister, pretty Naia, gathering flowers along the stream, braiding them into a crown to place on her hair, dancing to some internal music she would never hear. He made the signs they’d invented to talk, telling her not to wander too far away.

  She laughed silently at him and waved him off, dancing along the bank, her bare feet making small imprints in the damp soil. She was getting further and further away from him, skipping right along the edge of the water.

  Amaroq’s smile dried and he went after her, wanting to pull her away from the churning water, but she skipped along faster, avoiding him, refusing to look at him so he could signal her. He broke into a run, feeling an overwhelming need to get to her, his heart pounding in his chest. He closed the distance between them and reached out, trying to catch the trailing hem of her skirt, but his fingers closed on air.

  She stumbled and dropped over the embankment, landing in the water and sinking almost at once. He cried out, reaching for her, but she was gone.

  Something hit his foot and his eyes snapped open. Night had fallen and a million stars winked down at him from the blanket overhead.

  “That’s a large patrol,” whispered Nakoda. “Larger than I expected.”

  He and Shandar lay on their stomachs, peering over the edge of the rock cluster where they’d spent the day. The air was cool and the sounds of horses drifted up to them.

  “What is it?” Amaroq whispered, but Shandar kicked his foot again, glaring him to silence.

  He rolled over onto his belly and crawled to a spot between them, peering down. A large patrol of warriors were riding past them, headed away from the direction they’d come earlier, although Amaroq wasn’t entirely sure. Tirsbor folded back on itself at regular intervals, which is what made it nearly impenetrable.

  The sun had fallen and deep shadows crept into the folds of rock. Glancing up, Amaroq marked the moon had risen and in a few hours would be directly overhead, giving them enough light to navigate without need of torches.

  The patrol rode past them without looking up. As soon as they were out of sight in the bend of the maze, Shandar went into motion, packing away their possessions. Amaroq a
nd Nakoda followed him and in minutes, they were on the ground again.

  Shandar led them in the opposite direction from where the patrol had gone. Amaroq felt a wash of uneasiness at this. He worried they were headed back toward the valley, but he trusted Shandar and didn’t believe he’d try to deceive him.

  They walked most of the night, winding in and out, following some internal map Shandar had in his head. Finally they came to a cliff wall. Amaroq stopped walking and placed his hands on his hips. Shandar turned and regarded him. He was winded and perspiration shown on his face and throat, but he’d kept up with the younger men admirably. Obviously, now he’d made his first mistake. There was no where left for them to go.

  “Shandar, it was a good try, but we might have been better off following the patrol.”

  Shandar gave him a wry look. “You have absolutely no faith in me, do you?”

  In answer, Amaroq held up his hands, indicating the cliff face. “It’s a well placed doubt.”

  Shandar shook his head, then walked toward the cliff. Amaroq and Nakoda watched him, until he halted just before the rock, reached up and touched a strange carving on the face of it, then made a jog to the right and disappeared from sight. The younger men exchanged looks, then hurried to follow him.

  The cliff had a false front and behind it gaped the mouth of a cave. Shandar reached inside the cave and pulled out a torch, then held it out for Amaroq to light from his fire-starter kit. While he did so, Shandar gave them instructions.

  “Stay close together. I haven’t been in this cave in years, so a part of it might have collapsed. Or there might be sinkholes.”

  “Of course there might. No self-respecting cave would be anything without ways to die,” remarked Nakoda.

  “Gruesomely,” added Amaroq, but their eyes danced with delight. This was just the sort of thing the lifelong friends lived for. “How did you know about this?”