by Robert Day
Ashar’an Rising
Book 2 of the Nexus Wars Saga
By
Robert Day
Published by Robert Day at Amazon
Copyright 2011 Robert Day
Other titles by Robert Day at amazon.com:
Demon Gates: Book 1 of the Nexus Wars Saga
Amazon Edition
Cover Art by:
Dale Ziemanski
http://d-alien.com/
Ashar’an Rising
Map of Kil’Tar
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
END
Map of Kil’Tar
...then the son of the Lion shall travel to the sylvan ocean,
and within find the daughter of the long-lived,
so shall they unite their people as one to follow the river of blood
that the Skymaster has ridden.
: Chronicles of Yas, T.E. 1105
Chapter 1
With the early morning sun rising with steady warmth against his back, Valdieron rode slowly away from the city he had never called home. He wore a solemn expression, however, for he had left behind many things he desired to see again some day, not the least being the Princess Kitara and her brother, Andrak.
Ahead, the unknown land stretched out before him, and its vast mystery drew him forward. What wonders this land held for him he could only guess at, yet he felt homesick already, though he had no home to which he could return. With a heavy heart and hopeful dreams, he spurred Shakk forward, hoping a brisk ride might help free his mind of the thoughts and doubts that plagued him. The big sorrel stallion surged forward, feeling his rider's need, while at their side, the sleek brown form of Kaz dashed by, always thrilled to run. Shakk had been wary at first of the young Moorcat, but was not alarmed by his presence now as he ran, even trying to keep pace with the cat. Though big, Kaz loped along with strides that barely touched the high grass beside the road, while Shakk's hoofs beat at the packed dirt road, throwing up dust.
Like a foreboding trap, the distant horizon loomed darker and more menacing as the morning passed. A breeze picked up, not brisk but enough to whip his light mantle about him and tangle his long hair.
It felt good to be on the road again.
For the first few days he made good speed, covering four to five leagues in a day without pressing Shakk into anything greater than a gallop. They encountered a few towns and villages close to Thorhus, dependant upon its presence for commerce and trade. Valdieron considered steering clear of them when he could, but decided to use them for food and rest whenever he could, rather than use up his own rations early and sleep on the ground.
He quickly discovered his name was known at most places, as were the details of the Tournament, and he wondered how far he would have to travel before news of it was not known. The attention it sometimes brought him from awed people was a little embarrassing.
Erat was a small town eight days out from Thorhus. It was a farming community, with vast flocks of sheep scattered around the town. He spent a dull, rainy night at an Inn there, where news of Llewellyn's death was the most common piece of conversation, and he soon tired of hearing about it and went to his room. He could hear the light rain on the thin roof above, and hoped it would pass before the morning. He needed to get south quickly, but not by pushing himself or Shakk. Downstairs, a poorly tuned Harp could be heard over the boisterous patrons, and he slept fitfully on the hard pallet. He was more than glad when the morning dawned bright and clear and the town was soon but another memory for him.
His journey continued for the most part uneventfully, though one night the not too distant howls of Wolves woke him in his hammock set high in a towering holm. Below, Shakk stomped anxiously and Kaz shifted uncertainly on his perch opposite Valdieron, growling menacingly. The howls remained distant however, and he drifted back to sleep without worry, though the following day he spotted a line of light tracks in the muddied dirt road less than a hundred paces from the camp.
Garthtown was one of the last small cities in southern Ariakus, thirteen days south of Erat. It was situated in a low valley, and was nowhere near the size of Thorhus, yet it appeared tidy and well kept. Circling it was a high wooden wall, coated with a resin to protect it against the ravages of weather and time, and perhaps fire. Two large gates were set in the North and the Western walls, both lightly guarded. What surprised Valdieron was the square palisade of ten foot stakes at an arrows-flight distance from the walls. Metal lined holes in the hard road before the gate suggested stakes could also be placed there at need. He guessed that being so close to the Darishi Plains, the spikes were set for effect against horsemen, as any attacking Darishi would be. Grimly he wondered if the defense had been used in the recent history of the city.
The guards at the North gate asked him a few cursory questions, and he gave his name as Valdar so as not to draw attention to himself. Telling the guards he was merely passing through brought him no unusual glances or questions, and he was allowed to enter.
The packed dirt streets were wide, and it seemed the city was set up for fighting against mounted soldiers also. He passed under countless low arches set across the road between buildings, providing both a hindrance for riders and a high position for archers or spearmen. The houses were erected close together so a horse would have trouble fitting between them, while numerous posts flanked the road, with brackets for long ropes or poles to be slung between them.
He led Shakk past a few dirty and dilapidated Inns, not for their perdition but for the likelihood of less likeable figures within. He finally settled on a small but well kept Inn without a name, but with a sign outside showing a foaming tankard. He followed a small laneway along the side and found a small barn. A young boy worked there in grimy grey coveralls, on which he wiped his hands as he spotted Valdieron and skipped over. He had short dark hair and many freckles on a round face. He was not tall, but showed litheness gained through youthful exercise. He eyed Valdieron warily, and stepped cautiously away from Kaz, obviously not knowing what to make of the Moorcat.
Valdieron unhitched his bow from the pommel of the saddle and threw it over his shoulder. He drew out a bronze mark from his purse and tossed it to the lad who fumbled but caught it before it hit the ground. Valdieron removed his two bulging saddle bags and draped them over his shoulder also.
“Make sure he is fed, please.” The boy studied the coin briefly before tucking it into a large pocket and caught Shakk's reins, keeping well clear of the big stallion. Valdieron could see through the large opened doors that the barn was clean, but held few other animals. The boy led Shakk to the first stall and pulled the tentative stallion inside, where he began removing the saddle and reins.
The back door to the Inn was open, and he entered into a large taproom. To the right was the small bar set before twin doors most likely leading to a kitchen and storeroom area. Across from
the bar, a short corridor provided access to a row of rooms. A round hearth was set in the center of the room, lit more for the light rather than warmth, as few lanterns hung elsewhere. Rough circular and square tables were set around the room, at which a few people were already seated, and he dropped his gear at a vacant one near the hearth and took a seat.
“What'll it be, lad?” He looked up at the sound of the harsh voice and almost choked when he found the figure before him was a woman, or as near as he could tell, it was. She was not tall, and nearly that around, with a large apron stretched across her ample bulk. Her face reminded him of a breed of dog he had seen in Thorhus, with a large nose, huge round chin and a brow which threatened to overhang her dark eyes.
“Food please, ma’am, for my cat also.” If she noticed his awkwardness it did not show as she eyed Kaz down the length of her bulbous nose. “And some milk also, if you have any.”
“One silver for the food, and make sure that creature doesn't hassle my guests.” She turned quickly despite her bulk and left after Valdieron fished out the Silver Crown. He almost sighed with relief when she skirted the bar and disappeared into the kitchen. He bent down and patted Kaz roughly as the cat dropped at his feet. Valdieron could only marvel at the cat's temperament, as loyal and timid as any house cat, and twice as intelligent at times. Kaz purred throatily, his large orange eyes lilting closed with pleasure.
Valdieron shifted as he sensed movement behind him, and his hand whipped to the hilt of his sword, but he halted as he saw two men standing a few paces away, regarding him with dark eyes. He felt suddenly uncomfortable under their gazes, and he straightened defensively. There was something about them that made his senses whisper warning.
The man on the left shifted, stepping forward to peer at him intently. He sneered arrogantly, his worn face making him look in his middle years, though he was probably younger. He was dressed in cut and torn clothing, and his face was unshaven, while his hair was thick and unkempt. He held a tankard in one hand, hanging loose, while his other held three small balls of cloth. “That's a nice sword you have there, young stranger. May I see it?”
The second figure snickered softly then and Valdieron turned to him, his face blank as he considered what this strange encounter was leading to. The second man was young, with long flaxen hair curled up at the base. His face was long and slender, with a high forehead and a hawkish nose. His large pale-grey eyes were set wide apart. Unlike his friend, his clothes were of excellent cut and quality.
Valdieron shifted his chair slightly so he could stand easily if need by. His Rapier hung at his side, within easy reach, and he measured distances between them as he began working on actions he could take if necessary. “Perhaps later, friend!”
The young man laughed then, a hollow sound that had no humor in it, and sounded almost mocking. The other man scowled and his eyes darkened even more, though he recovered quickly. “Are you expecting company?”
Valdieron shook his head as he gestured towards the other chairs at the table, but another voice answered for him.
“No, and he doesn't need yours!” Both of the strangers shifted their gazes lazily at this new voice, and Valdieron cursed silently as he had not heard anyone approach. He shifted slightly, expecting the bulky woman's return, and if he gave a start at the woman's sight before, he almost fell off his chair at the sight before him now.
The woman was dazzlingly beautiful, even in the stained apron and black clothing she wore. Dazzling platinum hair hung past her shoulders, and her enrapturing eyes were emerald green, wide and large. A shapely mouth revealed sparkling teeth as she smiled, regarding the two standing men like children playing a game not as enjoyable as before. Both stood regarding her as if about to speak, but she narrowed her eyes and pressed her pale lips together in a frown.
Grumbling, the older man turned with a motion to his friend and they returned to their table across the room, the older man never losing his arrogant sneer.
The woman's smile returned in full and she turned to Valdieron with almost an apologetic sigh. “They aren't that bad, really, just a little tentative about strangers. Here's your food.”
A heady scent overwhelmed him as she leant past him to place the tray of steaming food on the table, though why she couldn't have done it from the side he did not know. Maybe she was wary of Kaz, though the cat had hardly shifted at his feet.
He was barely able to stammer “Thank you,” as she removed the plates from the tray, taking one broth filled bowl and leaning down to place it in front of Kaz, who sniffed at it briefly before lapping hungrily at it, though he did not rise. As she straightened, Valdieron could not but admire her figure, despite her loose clothing and apron.
She recovered the tray and took a step back, but made no move to return to the kitchen. She stood with one hand resting against the table and regarded him with her head leaning to the side in a gesture that only accentuated her alluring beauty. As if sensing his discomfort, she smirked slightly and turned to leave. “If you have need of anything else, just call.”
With a swirl she was gone then, drawing his gaze with a magnetic allurement as she passed from table to table. She did not go near the two men, both of whom turned to look at him occasionally, one with a cold sneer, the other a patronizing smile.
With a bemused sigh and a frown, Valdieron turned his attention to the food, and was instantly glad he had picked this particular Inn, despite the weird patronage. The meaty broth was thick and heavily herbed, though slightly bitter to the taste. The bread also was warm and heavily buttered, with a block of cheese and a sweetly cooked apple. He ate slowly, savoring each mouthful.
In a short time the taproom began to fill rapidly, and a smoky haze began to permeate it as a muddled buzz built. The majority of the patrons appeared to be well-dressed youths, probably low-ranking courtiers or members of the Duke's court. Valdieron caught many blunt stares and looks of wonder. He moved himself to a solitary table at the rear of the room, away from the press around the bar.
The dim light mixed with the strange smoke gave him a euphoric light-headedness the longer he sat, and he found himself smiling as he scanned the room. He could hear the soft straining of a Lute or harp and wondered where the Bard was playing from, because he could not see one anywhere in the room.
The beautiful young maid appeared before him then and he reeled back with stunned surprise at her presence. He had not seen her approach. She carried a round ceramic tray of drinks: slender crystal glasses containing a dark liquid. She leant forward enticingly to place one on them on the table before him. He found himself staring at her slender fingers, delicate with long nails painted with a dark red pigment, like warm blood.
“You're new here?” He found himself nodding as she took a slight move forward, filling his gaze with her figure. He glanced up at her dazzling face as she smiled down at him enchantingly. “My name is Kaylara. What is yours?”
“Val- Valdieron!” Why he told her his real name and not the one he had given the gate guards earlier, he did not know. He shook his head slightly, but Kaylara's hand touched his chin so she could look directly at him, and he felt an almost electrical surge from the contact, which sent tingles through his body.
“A beautiful name, Valdieron.” So saying, she spun, her dress swirling. Valdieron looked after her, and then remembered he had not asked for the drink she had given him, nor had he paid for it. He began to dig into his purse, but she was gone. Dropping a Crown onto the table, he would remember to give it to her next time.
Picking up the strange chalice, he found it warm and strong, not nearly as fragile as it appeared. He sniffed tentatively at the dark fluid and found it gave off a strange but not unpleasant smell, though faintly. Taking a small sip he was suddenly overcome with burning warmth down his throat. His breath seemed to evaporate at its passing and he rasped for breath. Coughing slightly he almost threw the glass away from him, wondering what joke was being played on him, when the warmth seemed to spread to every n
erve in his body. Like the jolting touch Kaylara's fingers had produced, he felt as if lightning were coursing through him, and his eyes blurred briefly.
Almost like in a dream, he looked around the room with a newfound awareness. His body felt asleep beneath him, but his senses were alive. His normally acute vision was intensified and he began to see things he would not usually notice, like the tiny naive below a young woman's left eye across the smoky room, and the missing button on another man's coat sleeve. His sense of smell, though infused with the heady vapor, picked out the aroma of herbs and garlic from the kitchen, plus another woman's scented perfume as she swept past three tables away. Even his hearing picked out the playing of the distant Harp over the din, and he could have sworn the player had to be in the room somewhere.
He sipped more of the drink, clutching the chalice in both hands as if for warmth, eyes closed to savor the sensation. He did not know what the liquid was, and his mind was too muddled and delirious to ask or object. He drained every precious drop and whirled to look for Kaylara, and found her standing before him again.
She smiled and giggled flirtingly as he handed her the empty chalice. “I thought you might enjoy that. Here, have another!” She handed him another chalice of the dark liquid and he took it. He took another longing sip and felt the waves of pleasure roll over him. He recovered to find Kaylara still before him, nodding slightly with a calculating grin, but her face lightened and she spun away again before he could hand her the Crown. He realized the Crown was a pittance compared to the worth of the dark liquid and began digging Sovereigns from his purse. He wondered if Kaylara would sell him a bottle of the liquid for the road.
He found the other patrons avoided him like he had the plague, but their looks suggested they were fearful of approaching him, and he wondered if his reputation preceded him. Maybe rumors of the death of Nortas at his hands in the tournament made him out to be a brutish murderer? Only Kaylara gave him any notice as she returned on cue whenever he drained his chalice, and every time he forgot to give her the growing pile of sovereigns set before him.