War of the Fathers: War of the Fathers Universe: Volumes One - Three Box Set (War of the Fathers Series Box Set Book 1)

by Dan Decker

  At least my legs are unharmed. He snorted bitterly. For now.

  Kivin had wrapped Jorad’s thin blanket around little Noal, in part to protect him from the heat, it seemed, judging by the way Kivin kept looking between his brother and the fire while touching the toddler’s forehead. They would be warm enough to survive the night.

  Hopefully, everybody else would be as lucky.

  As Jorad turned his back to the flames and let his eyes adjust to the dark, he stretched out his gloved hands. The gloves hadn’t been cheap but were well worth the price. He almost hadn’t made the purchase because of Adar’s claim he could get them to Rarbon before the winter storms, but Jorad had done it anyway. He was grateful he’d acquired the leather gloves while in Zecarani; otherwise, he’d have been forced to put socks on his hands, which in this wind would have done about as much good as his woolen hat. He figured that if he didn’t keep moving it wouldn’t be long before his fingers froze. They were already feeling a little numb.

  He hoped his father was okay.

  He had yet to speak with Tere about what had happened in Zecarani, but from what he’d heard from the others, he assumed Tere had kept back vital parts of the story.

  Tere claimed Adar was alive but that had not been corroborated by Karn. Jorad would have felt a lot better if Karn had been able to confirm it.

  Adar survived the Neberan invasion and lived through Zecarani as well. Even though Jorad had always known he would be moving onto Rarbon by himself, he still wished there had been an opportunity for some parting advice from Adar on how to handle the trials. If only he could come with me. Or better yet claim his own right to the title.

  If the Rarbon Council could be convinced to accept Adar as Ghar, so much time could be saved. They could immediately open the Rarbon Portal to determine if anything of use was hidden within. Perhaps, for the first time since the Hunwei had returned, they might have even had a slight advantage.

  Jorad shook his head as the wind cut through his coat and made him shiver. He looked up at the sky, expecting to see a storm blowing in but there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

  It was more than cold enough for snow, and he was glad they didn’t have to contend with that as well.

  The Hunwei aren’t going to attack in spring, that would be too easy. Maybe they know that going into winter is the best time to catch us off guard.

  The Hunwei hadn’t seemed bothered by the rain in Zecarani, he doubted the snow would phase them either. The first winter storm was little more than a month away.

  The refugees were packed so tight that the only warmth those on the outside were likely to get would come from the person to the side or in front of them.

  Jorad shook his head while he examined the circle, spotting a shivering little girl in the back. He frowned. He hadn’t spoken to the girl—Almirya—but he’d heard her story from Kivin. The ragged cloak that was wrapped around her thin frame had enough holes it wasn’t doing her much good. If he was cold while wearing a coat, gloves, and hat, he couldn’t imagine how she was doing.

  Jorad thought of offering his coat to her when a better idea came to mind.

  Wes had approached with an armful of wood and dumped it outside the circle with a regretful look at the fire. He wore socks on his hands that had bits of bark clinging to the wool. His coat wasn’t meant for the winter winds, and while he was better off than most, it was not by much. It was only the lad’s continual movement that kept him warm. Leron and Wes had gone out into the wood to collect more fuel for the fire at Jorad’s urging. When Jorad had seen the two of them at the front of the fire, despite the fact they were better dressed than the refugees, it had been difficult to keep from yelling. Somehow, he’d managed to calmly instruct them to collect more wood.

  Leron had been sullen, but Wes had looked around and must have realized their mistake. He knew Jorad well enough to recognize when Jorad was holding back.

  Jorad approached Almirya and touched her shoulder, startling her. She whipped around as if afraid he was about to attack her. When she recognized him, some of the tension drained from her face, but not all. The haunted look in her eyes gave him pause.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  “Why? What do you—” she stopped midsentence, fear covering her face again. A different type of fear. “Please, sir. Please.” Her voice quivered as she spoke and Jorad had to stamp down a flash of anger that nobody else had seen to her needs. Why would one so young have that kind of fear?

  “I’ll get you closer. That’s all I will do.”

  It was evident she didn’t believe him, but she still followed him to the pile of branches Wes had dropped. Jorad stomped on several to break them in two, so they were easier for her to manage. “Hold these.”

  Picking up several larger pieces, he walked to the circle, careful to navigate through without knocking anybody upside the head. “More wood, make way!”

  The group opened with great reluctance. If anybody was surprised he was putting more on so soon, nobody made a comment. Almirya didn’t have to be told to follow him to the flames, her eyes lit up as she did.

  Jorad carefully placed the wood on the fire to avoid stirring up any sparks. After Almirya had done the same, he pointed at Kivin.

  “Share the blanket.”

  The young man looked up, surprised somebody had spoken to him, he’d been staring into the fire. In moments, the girl was nestled beside Kivin and Noal. The toddler didn’t look happy about the newcomer but didn’t make a fuss. Kivin had given up more than he’d needed to make sure the girl had enough but with the way he was crowded from behind, he would be warm enough.

  As Jorad walked away, once again letting the circle close around him, he wondered if they shouldn’t just start another fire. He was perplexed the refugees had been broken into seven groups and that they were spaced far enough apart that it was a walk to meet up with the next. He assumed Karn had done this on purpose and hesitated to give an order until he first understood the reason for it.

  Karn must have left before it got so cold, surely, he would have done things differently. Would another fire or two be so bad?

  Jorad circled the refugees, looking for anybody else who might need help. As he moved, he spoke words of encouragement, urging those who were too far from the fire to move in closer, telling them that body heat would help as well. By the time he’d completed his way around, the circle had tightened, and more people were huddled together for warmth than there had been before.

  A white-haired fellow had grumbled about being told to sit closer to the young man beside him, but he had done as instructed.

  Melyah! Whatever reason Karn had for this crazy layout can’t be worse than watching these people freeze to death.

  Jorad looked for Wes, intending to grill him for information—or instruct him to get another fire started—but the young man had already disappeared again.

  Jorad let out a sigh. Hopefully, he’d find somebody to explain the reasoning for the camp’s fractured organization. The clearing in which he stood had plenty of room for the whole group.

  I shouldn’t have closed my eyes, he thought, wishing he would have just put down his pack instead of taking a moment to rest. He shook his head, cursing under his breath as he did. When he’d awoken, it had been dark, and the camps had already been arranged. Karn had gone off hunting. The man could have at least woken Jorad before he’d left.

  Curse these wounds of mine! Jorad thought as his lower back flared with pain, making him wish he could spare a moment to put on the salve.

  But his wounds weren’t the problem.

  He ground his teeth, vowing he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He’d stay on his feet next time regardless of the pain.

  Jorad had taken a risk by assuming leadership of the group in Adar’s absence. He’d done so to keep Tere from doing it, but if he became Ghar, he would one day be expected to lead Rarbon. It was better to practice with a smaller group than wait until he was put in charge of an army, which a
ccording to Karn was a possibility. It had always worked out that those making a claim were also generals, but it wasn’t a written rule.

  That’s what had happened with his father, after all. As soon as Adar had made his claim, the Council had made him a general and given him one of the Radim armies. It had happened that way for Abel as well.

  The thought of taking command of men more than twice his age, with years of experience troubled him, but he would do it.

  How am I ever going to convince the Council of the urgency of our situation? He’d been hoping the Hunwei head would be persuasive, but after the response he’d gotten in Zecarani, he wondered if he would need more.

  It had taken Adar years to complete his trials. That was why being able to prove Jorad’s heritage was so vital, he didn’t want the council arguing about his lineage. He hoped Xarda, Karn, Leron, and maybe even Tarner would vouch for him.

  If not, it was going to be difficult.

  He shook his head as he stepped into the night and headed towards another of the fires, hoping to find Xarda at the next.

  He came out of his thoughts when he almost tripped on a branch hidden in the undergrowth and grabbed a nearby tree for support. He took a deep breath and forced down another right afterward, the frigid air freezing his lungs.

  The guilt ate at him as he walked into the darkness of the forest. While it might have been excusable for another of their traveling party to fall asleep, it was the last thing he should have done.

  The next fire looked to be less than a hundred feet away, but it was hard to know for sure in the thick vegetation. It also didn’t help that he wasn’t able to see much of it, so thick were the people around the flames.

  As he walked deeper into the forest, he was forced to measure his movements. The undergrowth was full, and if he wasn’t careful, he was likely to trip on a thick branch and not be as lucky to catch himself at the last moment.

  He noticed a flicker of movement and was reaching for his blaster when he saw the furry tail of a rabbit. He relaxed his hold until he thought to kill it for food but by that time it was already gone. He let go of the blaster’s strap. A blast would have incinerated the animal. Not for the first time, he wished to still have his bow and arrow.

  It was an impractical thought. The sword and blaster, combined with his pack were already enough to carry. He rubbed his shoulders where the straps of his pack had rubbed him raw. He was glad to have left it back at the first campsite, hidden in the trees, hoping the cold kept anybody from stumbling into it. It was the first time in years that carrying a pack had been onerous. His wounds made him weaker, and he didn’t have the time he needed to heal.

  He shuffled forward, trusting to touch more than sight. The moons were all but hidden by the thick canopy of fir and aspen overhead. The leaves and needles rustled in the wind, showing patches of stars.

  A large gust of wind tore at him, making him feel like he wasn’t wearing anything, seeming to rip into his insides.

  A crack rang out and a branch as thick as his head broke from a close tree, falling to the ground. As he moved around it, he was glad he hadn’t been forward ten feet when the gust had come, or it would have landed on his head. It was thick enough to have knocked him unconscious. Or worse.

  He breathed a little better when he stepped out into the next clearing.

  The fire was the same pitiful size as the last, with even more people crouched around it. He shivered as he approached. It helped to have his hands warm, but the wind cut through his coat like a thousand tiny icy knives.

  A figure broke from the crowd. Jorad almost turned when he saw who it was, even though that would have sent him back into the forest.

  Tere had a resolute look on his face, or at least that was what it looked like. As he approached, the moons came out from behind a quick moving cloud, bathing the clearing in light and showing the malice on his face, which disappeared as he got closer.

  “How’s the shoulder?” Tere’s voice was light and airy, but at odds with his eyes. “And the back?”

  The questions took Jorad off guard because it almost sounded like Tere cared, and Jorad didn’t believe that for a moment. The more he’d gotten to know the man, the more convinced he had become Tere only cared for himself.

  “Well enough,” Jorad said, struggling to keep his voice even, not wanting to reveal he didn’t believe what he’d heard of Tere’s story. This wasn’t the right time to confront him; he was half-frozen and had people who needed help.

  While he and Tere had spoken a few times, Jorad hadn’t had the right frame of mind to ask for the story. Tere hadn’t volunteered anything, something Jorad held against the man.

  “How are your wounds?” Jorad asked.

  The question surprised Tere, but he quickly wiped the expression from his face. His cuts and bruises were covered by his shirt, he wasn’t aware Jorad knew of them.

  “I’m making do,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t get them from Adar if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Then why hide them?

  Wes had stumbled upon Tere tending to them when he thought he was alone. Tere had betrayed his oath to Adar, of that Jorad had little doubt. It was a pity Karn had been separated from them. Otherwise, things might have happened differently. Tere would not have attacked Adar if Karn had been with them.

  Was this how my father felt when he saw Tere after fifteen years? Jorad wondered as he looked at Tere, the chill in his heart couldn’t touch the wind beating against his face. The two were said to have been fast friends, but Jorad had a hard time believing it, even after Adar had confirmed the rumor. If it had not been obvious Adar was the more skilled of the two, Tere wouldn’t have rested until they’d fought it out.

  “If I’m thinking it,” Jorad said, his words a match in temperature for the wind, “others are as well.”

  Adar had never been willing to talk much about Nelion’s death, but he believed Tere knew more than he’d let on. Adar hadn’t ever accused Tere directly, but he didn’t need to.

  “Think what you want.” Tere shrugged, as he reached for the hilt of the sword that peeked up over his back. “But I would be careful, boy. I don’t want to hurt you…” He trailed off as if realizing what he was doing.

  “Tell me about the tablet,” Jorad said. Tere paled as his hand moved several inches closer to the hilt of his sword. The other hand looked as if he were about to reach into his coat pocket but he stopped at the last moment. Was he going for a dagger?

  Jorad made a point of folding his arms in the same way Adar had been fond of doing when he wanted to make Tere realize he wasn’t afraid of the man.

  “There’s nothing to say,” Tere said at last. “Adar couldn’t get it. I told the fool it was a waste, but he didn’t listen.” He pointed a finger at Jorad’s chest and took a step closer. “Your father’s pride will be his downfall. If you’re not careful, it will be yours.”

  Jorad struggled to keep his arms where they were, he wanted nothing more than to grab his blaster and make a hole in the man’s chest. It was no less than Tere deserved.

  “Your lies will do you in. You may have fooled some, but it’s less than you think. Not even Xarda has been taken in by all of them.”

  Tere’s eyes burned. “My niece knows the truth, even if she doesn’t want to see it.”

  When he reached into his pocket, Jorad flinched and tried to cover it. His eyes narrowed. “Going for a dagger?”

  Tere looked startled as if he hadn’t realized what he was doing, he tried to mask his surprise, but it was too late.

  “I’ll leave the daggers to Soret’s father.”

  The words had been spoken to make Jorad angry, and even though he knew that was what Tere wanted to accomplish, it was hard to keep control of his temper.

  Jorad fought it down, his fingers digging into his ribs as he did. He let out a breath and pushed past Tere.

  “If you see Karn, tell him that I’m looking for him.” He didn’t look back even thou
gh he felt Tere’s eyes boring into his back.

  Where is Karn?

  As if in answer to Jorad’s unspoken question, Karn ran into the light of the flickering flames.

  “Put out that fire.” He pointed to several young men shivering on the outskirts. “Pass the word to the others.”

  Chapter 2

  Sparks flew as a gust of wind licked the flames of the bonfire. Nobody moved while they processed Karn’s words. Somewhere a baby cried, but Jorad couldn’t tell which direction it came from.

  Jorad flinched at the increase in wind, afraid a Hunwei ship had found them and was about to land. He looked to the sky as he grabbed his blaster, wondering what it would do to a ship. Would it even harm it? He’d seen blasts go through flesh and wood alike, but he had to believe the ships would be a different matter altogether. But then again, not even the Hunwei’s armor protected them from their own blasters.

  He spun in place, looking for the slightest sign of the Hunwei but came up with nothing.

  Perhaps, there was a ground force nearby, and Karn was afraid the fires would be seen. Maybe this was why he’d wanted the camps spaced out with the fires kept as small as possible. Jorad should have thought of that sooner.

  Just because we traveled thousands of miles in a single step, it doesn’t mean the Hunwei aren’t here too.

  He swallowed. What if they found Rarbon in ruins? The glimpse they’d caught of the city the other day had been far enough away that if anything had happened, they wouldn’t have been able to tell.

  “What’s going on, Karn?” Jorad asked. Karn didn’t appear to have heard him over the chorus of complaints from the refugees and Jorad didn’t want to yell. They were loud enough as it was.

  The wind gusted again. On instinct, he whipped up his blaster, pointing it at the sky, still convinced a ship was about to appear.

  One of the two men to whom Karn had given the order blinked, his mouth open but no words coming out as he looked away from the comfort of the fire and into the cold night.