“Years ago I came to Tirsbor. We had to escape the Sarkisian army and the Tirsbor warriors led us through a tunnel into a massive cavern. I figured where there was one tunnel, there had to be others. When I came to live with your mother, I found this one and marked it.” He motioned to the false wall. Amaroq remembered the mark he’d touched before going inside.
“All of Nevaisser is built on lava tunnels. When I was in Dorland, they did their farming underground. It was amazing.”
“What did they use for sunlight?” asked Nakoda.
“Lodegems,” said Shandar, taking the torch from Amaroq. “Now, follow close.”
They did. The cave led into a lava tunnel as Shandar had said. It bent slightly once they left sight of the outside, but it was clear and straight beyond that. Amaroq marveled at the way the ceiling curved over their heads, the black volcanic rock. He’d studied volcanoes with the elders, but this was different. This was feeling it, seeing it with his own eyes, experiencing it as he never had in the pages of his books.
Emotions crowded inside of him, making his temples hurt. He sensed Shandar’s emotions and Nakoda’s, but mostly his own. When the light from the outside appeared again at the end of the tunnel, he stopped, bracing a hand on the wall, fighting to control his hyperventilating. His ears rang and sweat peppered his chest. He couldn’t get enough air.
Shandar and Nakoda stopped and Shandar came back to him, bracing his shoulder. “Are you all right, Wolf?”
Amaroq shook his head. “I’ve never been beyond Tirsbor before. What if it’s too much?”
“You need to use the meditation exercises the elders taught you. Center only on yourself, not everyone else.”
“I’m the problem!” he cried, slapping a fist against his chest. “I’m the one panicking here!”
“Oh, well, then stop.”
Amaroq tilted his head at him. “That’s your advice? Stop!”
Shandar took him by the shoulders. “You won’t be alone. We’ll be with you, but there’s a whole world to explore, Wolf, new adventures to be had. Isn’t that something? You deserve to see the world, experience it.”
Amaroq forced himself to take deeper breaths and the buzzing eased enough to allow him to continue. He walked to the mouth of the cave, staring out at the landscape beyond. Before him was a meadow of strange, tall grasses that waved in the breeze, danced in the full moonlight. They were on a small incline, but everywhere he looked he could see open land. It made him panic again and he ducked back into the cave.
He caught the look Nakoda and Shandar exchanged, and he bristled at it. They didn’t understand. Shandar had apparently wandered the whole of Samar in his life, but Amaroq had never left Tirsbor, never wanted to leave Tirsbor. The world outside was terrifying. It was hard enough to live in the canyon with the feelings of so many people around him, but this...this was the world.
Shandar curled an arm around his shoulder. “Just step out and sit down. We’ll go slowly.”
“We can’t go slowly. My sister’s out there. We need to find her trail.”
“We can take a few minutes for you to adjust.”
Amaroq stepped out beside the older man and sank down on the grass, bracing his arms on his bent knees. Closing his eyes and drawing deep, slow breaths, he calmed himself, except when he opened his eyes again, the world was still there.
“I’ll scout around,” said Nakoda, then he moved off into the meadow.
“I’m sorry,” said Amaroq to Shandar, feeling ashamed.
Shandar sat down beside him. “Sorry? This isn’t your fault. They should have done more to prepare you for this, but they were happy to keep you in the canyon.”
Amaroq looked around. “There’s so much. How will we ever find my sister?”
Shandar pointed to the far distance, where a band of darkness marked the edge of what looked like a road. Amaroq guessed the dark line indicated trees. “We go to Raimondi.”
“Raimondi?”
“It’s the closest Human town.”
Amaroq shook his head. “No, Shandar, I can’t go to a Human town. I’ve never even seen Humans, except in books.”
“It’ll be all right. I promise you. They aren’t so different from Stravad.”
Amaroq couldn’t answer. He just stared in horror at the line of trees. Something filtered through the panic in his brain. “Hold on. Why are we going to a Human town? We need to find my sister’s trail.”
“We need horses and supplies and information. We’ll get that in a Human town.”
Amaroq narrowed his eyes on the older man. “What aren’t you telling me?” He could sense Shandar’s evasion.
Shandar looked away. “I’m telling you everything.”
“You can’t lie to me, Shandar. What have you left out?”
Shandar shifted and met his gaze. “Your sister was captured by slavers. Some of the warriors saw the slavers’ brand on their mounts.”
“Slavers?”
“They’ve become a problem in recent years. They operate in Dorland and through the south-western part of Nevaisser where Kalas Eldralin’s power doesn’t extend.”
Amaroq shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why hasn’t Dorland done anything about them?”
“They prey on Stravad, Wolf. Women and children, mostly. Dorland probably isn’t even aware of the extent to which they operate.”
Amaroq felt his heart sink. Nausea pressed up inside of him. How would they ever stop slavers if a kingdom the size of Dorland didn’t know how to do it?
“Kalas Eldralin?” he said. He knew of Kalas, had read stories about him, heard reports the council received. He was a good King, a strong King, a fair King.
Shandar regarded him for a long time. “Yes,” he finally said.
Amaroq looked away, watching Nakoda as he loped back toward them, his long stride eating up ground.
“Wolf…” began Shandar.
“Leave it,” he said firmly. “I don’t have time for that now.”
Shandar ducked his head, but he didn’t press.
Rubbing his hands over his face, Amaroq knew he’d have to brave the Humans’ town if he wanted to find information about his sister. That’s all that mattered. That’s all he could concentrate on. He had to get his sister back, no matter what.
“You know you can ask. I’ll tell you. Whatever you want to know,” said Shandar. It wasn’t the first time he’d made the offer, but Amaroq had never wanted to know, had never wanted to hear.
How did you miss what you’d never had? Shandar, his mother and Naia were all the family he’d ever needed, more family than most Nazarien got. It was enough.
“I’m content.”
Shandar gave a lift of his chin, but didn’t respond.
Amaroq focused on him. “I am content, Shandar.”
“As you will.”
Amaroq considered something else. “How will we pay for horses and supplies? Don’t the Humans want coin, not trade? Besides, we have nothing to trade anyway.”
Shandar patted his pack. “I have coin. Plenty of it. I haven’t exactly had cause to use it for years, so we’ll do fine.” He shifted and studied Amaroq. “As soon as we enter Raimondi, Wolf, you need to be prepared. You need to block as much energy as you can. Humans are far more emotional than Stravad.”
“I’ve been told.”
“But you’ve never experienced it.”
“I’ll be all right. I don’t have any other choice. If they know how to find my sister, I have to risk it.”
Shandar gave a short nod, then he studied Amaroq again. “But there’s more.”
Amaroq felt the blood drain from his features. What more could there be? Shandar said they looked like Stravad. What if they didn’t? What if they had some strange abnormalities that he wouldn’t be able to ignore?
“They’re going to be drawn to you.”
Amaroq frowned. “What?”
“I’ve seen it, lived it. They’re going to take one look at you and want to follow you.
You have that indefinable something that will draw them.”
“Like the women in Tirsbor?” he said with a wicked smile.
“Yes, but men too.”
Amaroq’s frown deepened. “Men?” He considered. “Interesting.”
Shandar gave him a wry look. “Not for the same reasons... well, some for the same reasons, but most will want to follow you because…”
“Because?”
“Because you’re you.”
Amaroq shook his head. “You don’t always make sense. Do you know that, Shandar?”
“Well, just trust me on this. Stay close to Nakoda and me.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I really thought I wouldn’t have to go through this again, but here I am.”
Amaroq didn’t answer; he wasn’t sure what Shandar wanted him to say.
Shandar touched him in the center of his forehead. “Keep your wits, you hear me? And whatever you do, don’t go following the first pretty wench you see.”
That gave Amaroq pause. What exactly did that mean? He hadn’t heard the Humans had procreation ceremonies. In fact, the elders had often scoffed at the Humans, saying they mated like bunnies.
Amaroq’s eyes widened. “You mean Human women would be willing to…”
“No!” Shandar shook a finger in his face. “No, they won’t! You just stay with us.”
“But Shandar…”
“NO! Human women are forbidden.”
“Why? Are we incapable of mating with them?”
Shandar threw up his hands and paced away, grumbling something about why me?
“It’s just curiosity, Shandar,” he said, rising to his feet and picking up his pack. “Academic study.”
“No academic study, no curiosity, no experimentation. You stay with me and Nakoda and that is all.”
Amaroq gave him a mischievous smile. “If I remember right, you were the one who told me this was my chance to experience the world. Do you really want to put a tether on me just when you’ve set me free?” He passed Shandar and headed down toward his friend. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled. “You wouldn’t want to do that, would you?”
Shandar gave a laughing exhalation and rubbed at his forehead. “I’m too damn old for another one,” he grumbled, but he followed.
CHAPTER 5
Aiden finally fell asleep a few hours before dawn. His dreams were troubled by Adison’s wicked grin and Alasdair’s whip thin body. He dreamed about being pursued from one end of the castle to the other, always by people demanding his attention. Finally he dreamed of horses’ hooves, galloping down his very hallway, coming right for his door.
He woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat, and he knew that something was very wrong. Before he could even roll out of bed, a heavy body dropped on him, a hand clamping over his mouth. He struggled violently and nearly threw the assailant off.
Aiden was a large man, heavily muscled despite his sedentary life as King, but he was no match for the two figures shadowed in moonlight struggling over him. Still fear was on his side and he kicked and thrashed in the bed clothes, finally sending the trio to the floor.
Thankfully he landed on top and wasted no time. Leaping to his feet, he made for the door and the guards waiting just outside, but one of the assailants caught at his heels and tripped him up. He went down with a grunt of pain, the air whistling from his lungs, and before he could move, they were on him, grabbing his arms and forcing them behind his back.
He kicked and twisted, then he thought to cry for help. The guards waiting beyond his door would have to hear him. The thought registered only briefly before he felt a sharp pain in the back of his skull and then fell headlong into darkness.
Aiden woke to a splitting headache. Reflexively he lifted his hands to brace his temples, but his arms were heavy and rang with the sound of metal on metal. He opened one eye and looked at his hands. He was bound.
Panic welled within him. Where was he? Why was he bound? Memory failed him. He sat up, but that was a mistake. His head exploded in pain and he groaned, pressing it into his manacled hands.
Movement beside him caused him to peek out from beneath his fingers. A young boy, no more than twelve or thirteen, stared back at him. He had dirty red-orange hair and huge green eyes. He met Aiden’s gaze and for once Aiden felt the urge to look away. Instead he looked down at the boy’s hands and feet, bound as were his own.
“Where am I?” he asked, squinting into the gloom.
“Slavers’ quarters, deep in a cellar somewhere,” the boy said, motioning to the tree roots that pushed through the roof of their prison.
Aiden’s eyes snapped back to the boy’s face, his heart pounding. He felt for a moment as if he were going to be sick. “Slavers?” he repeated and everything Alasdair had said came back. “Slavers?”
“Aye,” said the boy, his huge eyes seeming larger in his filthy face. “We’ll move out soon though, always do before the local government catches on. You’re lucky. Aren’t many grown men in the slavers’ holds.”
“Lucky?” said Aiden. “You said slavers?” He understood the word, but he couldn’t understand the concept. Certainly not the concept that he himself was a hostage of them. Panic overwhelmed him and he pulled at his shackles.
“No use,” said the boy, “they’re bound fast as we are, one to another.”
Aiden’s eyes followed the boy’s raised fist in horror. They were bound together. Whatever he did on his end also affected the people on either side. He collapsed back against the damp, earthy wall and began laughing, a sharp hysterical laugh. The boy’s eyes widened even further in shock and he fluttered his hands before Aiden’s face in anxiety.
“Nay, you mustn’t draw their attention. They’ll beat us. Stop! You’ve got to stop!”
Aiden’s eyes snapped. “Beat us! I’m the King of Dorland, boy!” He knew he sounded hysterical. “I’m the damn King of Dorland! Free me at once! Do you hear me, I command you to free me!
“A noisy assed idiot is what you are,” came a voice from the top of the twisted staircase that disappeared in the rooted ceiling. “Shut your mouth or I’ll do so permanently. I don’t want to hear your yowling.”
“Damn you, you release me at once!” cried Aiden, surging to his feet, unaware that he dragged both the boy and a woman on his other side with him. “I’m Aiden Cerik, King of Dorland…”
“Aye, and I’m Eldon himself. Shut up or I’ll make you, Your Lordship!”
The boy tugged on Aiden’s manacles. “Please, don’t do this. Please, I’m begging you!”
“To hell with it,” said Aiden and again lifted his head. “Release me! I command you!”
“Command my ass,” answered the voice and the door closed upstairs with a thunderous shudder.
“Please,” begged the boy. “The chains are cutting into my wrists and Naia’s too.”
Aiden looked down into the boy’s eyes, feeling perilously close to madness. His head throbbed as did his wrists where the metal chains bit into them. “What?”
The boy motioned to the figure in a half-crouch by Aiden’s feet. Aiden looked down into the face of a woman, a Stravad woman no less. Her hands were raised above her head, held there by the taut pull of his own chains. When he realized what he was doing, he immediately dropped to his knees.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I don’t understand what’s happening and...” he said.
The boy touched his shoulder and shook his head. “She can’t understand you, and she can’t read your lips in this half-light.”
Aiden stared at the boy. “What do you mean?”
The boy motioned toward his own ears. “She can’t hear or speak, been that way since she was caught. I learned some of her language so’s we could speak and she can read lips when the light’s bright enough.”
“Can’t hear or speak?” repeated Aiden, staring at the woman huddling in the darkness beside him.
She was small and as filthy as the boy, but as she looked at him, Aiden sensed a calm prid
e in her bearing. Her hair was black and straight, her eyes Stravad blue. He couldn’t see the tone of her skin, but he knew it must be dark for he was having a difficult time making her out at all. He suppressed another burst of hysterical laughter and shook his head.
Slavers had him bound like a trussed-up pig. How had this happened to him? He was the King of Dorland. He might not be a good King, but he was King, no one disputed that – except of course Adison, but Adison wouldn’t have sold him to slavers. Killed him outright perhaps, but nothing as diabolical, as horrendous as selling a born King into the hands of bondage.
His body trembled violently. He could feel every muscle bunching, gathering in denial. Slavers – this had to be some insane nightmare. Not reality. He pulled at the shackles again, mindlessly, frantically. No, he couldn’t be bound. They wouldn’t dare. He’d held kingship of Dorland undisputed – supported by even Sarkisian itself, a kingdom once at war with Dorland for her lands.
He grabbed the shackles on his left hand in that of his right and began pulling, twisting, trying to force his left hand to slip through the tight opening. Even when blood began to ooze over the manacles, he still pulled and twisted. He felt the boy and woman on either side of him staring at him with terrified eyes, but he ignored them, his panic growing. A feral cry escaped his lips, a cry so animal-like it startled him into stillness for a moment.
Then he felt the woman’s hands on his bloodied left arm. He shuddered, his breath panting out in a strange hitching sound, but he didn’t try to pull away. Her hands travelled up his arm and across his chest, then her fingers skimmed over his lips silencing his hysterical sobs.
As her fingers slipped behind his head, her manacles sliding onto his chest, he stopped breathing completely, aware only of the odd tingling path of her fingers, once over the lump where he’d been struck, then down to his neck. He went with the pull of her arms, his face coming in contact with her shoulder. He shuddered again, giving over to the exhaustion and terror that possessed him, sinking into the warmth of this strange woman, allowing her to rock him. He realized in a detached way that he couldn’t move, didn’t want to move, only wanted to seek the comfort of her slight form in the dark, dampness of his prison. She smelled of the earthen floor, but also something deeply feminine and comforting, a scent he only remembered when he was a child and had climbed into his mother’s lap for her attention.
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