Prophet (Books of the Infinite Book #1)

by R. J. Larson

  “I knew it.” Ela laughed. “I’m thankful you’ll have others to talk with after I leave.”

  It would be difficult to leave Lara, knowing everything the young woman must soon face. Hating to trouble her with yet another duty, though an important one, Ela asked, “Will you remember the prisoners after I leave?”

  Some of Lara’s joy faded. “I give you my word I will, though I wish you wouldn’t go.”

  “Don’t cry. You won’t be rid of me that easily. If the nation of Istgard misbehaves, and if I live, the Infinite will send me to scold you all.”

  “I’m so glad!”

  Ela smiled. Was it cowardly of her to not tell Lara that Parne’s prophet would die during the battle?

  Ela watched as Syb fretted and hugged Tzana in the prison’s public yard. “You be safe, my girl, and stay well. Eat all your food—promise me!”

  “I promise.” Tzana peeked over Syb’s veiled shoulder at the prison’s main doorway and giggled. Ela turned to see the cause of her delight. The warden limped outside, supporting himself with a cane and squinting in the sunlight. Tzana reached for him. “Warden Tired! I need to tell you good-bye.”

  Ela thought the man would start blubbering as he struggled to speak. “It’s Warden Ter, not tired—you’ve forgotten again.”

  Tzana kissed his grizzle-bearded cheek. “I’ll remember you always.”

  The warden and his wife burst into tears. Ela hastily turned away, just in time to see Kien stalk from the main entry clad in a basic soldier’s rough tunic, boiled-leather vest, worn sandals, and faded red mantle. He met Ela’s gaze and stormed over, avoiding the guards. “Did you know they’d plan my death with this disguise?”

  “Yes. You needn’t worry. You’ll survive the battle.”

  “I might not survive these sandals—they could have at least allowed me my boots.”

  “Yes, but the sandal leather is so battered and soft that you won’t become blistered.”

  “Stop being optimistic. I want to complain. I’m wearing used sandals!” But he grinned. Captivated by the warmth of his gaze, the appeal of his sparkling gray eyes, Ela had to look away for an instant. The rough attire certainly hadn’t lessened Kien’s charm. If she weren’t going to die, Ela quite believed she’d fall madly in love with him. Would Kien remember her when she was gone?

  “That’s all you’re carrying?” Kien drew Ela’s attention to her plump water bag and the branch in her hands.

  “For now. I’ve packed Tzana’s gear on Pet.” She’d had to gently refuse numerous gifts from the warden and Syb. Fortunately, Tzana hadn’t complained, reasoning that she needed room to ride Pet. Ela, however, was sentenced to walk to her death, as was Kien—a punishment from the vengeful Tek An.

  Kien cast a sidelong glance at the warden, then muttered to Ela, “I see someone has finally recovered.”

  “No thanks to you.”

  He smirked. “This from a girl who greets strangers by blackening their eyes.”

  “You have no intention of forgetting that, do you?”

  Kien leaned closer, his voice softening. “If you don’t know, then why should I tell you? It would ruin my fun.”

  He was flirting with her. She retreated to take charge of Tzana.

  The warden wiped his eyes, then grumbled at Ela. “Because of you, the prisoners are so fat an’ lively that I’ll spend the next year quashin’ rebellions an’ escape attempts.”

  “You’re welcome.” Ela smiled, watching Pet frisk through the gate, accompanied by a detachment of guards commanded by Ela’s former captor, Tal.

  Tzana saw the destroyer and dived for Ela’s arms. “I want to ride Pet! Please, oh please!”

  While Syb burst into fresh tears, the new commander, Tal, dropped a backpack of supplies at Ela’s feet, including dried foods, a clanging cooking pan, and an empty waterskin. Another soldier dumped an even heavier hoard in front of Kien.

  The Tracelander lifted one dark quizzical eyebrow at Ela.

  “No,” she answered before he could form his question. “The Infinite hasn’t shown me these rather large details, but I’m sure it’ll do us no good to complain. Anyway, dealing with unexpected burdens is character building.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “I do not. I sound like mine.”

  Sweat slithered down Ela’s neck beneath her pack’s wooden frame as she trudged along, amid an endless line of soldiers, horses, and carts of supplies. She felt like a pack horse. As a prophet, Ela supposed she ought to pray and not allow herself to become irritated. But irritation was more difficult to fend off as this journey stretched into several days. “Infinite . . .”

  Young charioteers drove past her on the dirt road, laughing as the clattering chariot wheels raised clouds of dust that choked Ela’s plea. Could she pray for those impudent young men to be blighted?

  Could she forgive herself if she prayed and those young men indeed rotted with blight?

  No.

  Infinite? She hated to whine, but . . . Grit rasped between Ela’s teeth. Trying to be neat, she stooped and spat into the stubbly grass alongside the road.

  “Are you ill?”

  “Thank you, but it’s nothing—just a mouthful of dust.” Ela glanced up at Kien, who had stopped beside her at this less-than-graceful moment. Dirty rivulets of sweat streaked his face, running down into his scruffy beard. She felt as grimy as he looked, though without the beard, she hoped. “I suspect the charioteers are deliberately raising dust as they pass us. Notice they’re slowing when they’re among the other soldiers.”

  “The king probably ordered them to torment us.”

  They resumed walking. Kien chuckled and nodded at Tzana, who rode Pet just ahead of them and chattered at anyone willing to listen to her. “At least one of us is having fun.”

  “Pet seems happy too,” Ela agreed. Indeed, the destroyer’s walk was sprightly. “I’d almost suspect he knows we’re going into battle soon.”

  Another charioteer drove past, roaring a battle cry and leaving a whirlwind of dust in his wake. Ela covered her face against the grit, biting back blighting wishes.

  “How do I know you won’t run away?” the guard demanded, scowling down at Ela.

  His hostile tone provoked Pet, who rumbled a threatening noise low in his throat. Mindful of Tzana still perched on the destroyer’s back, Ela reached over and stroked the huge horse to let him know she was safe. But she returned the guard’s scowl. “I give you my word I won’t run away. I simply want to go down to the river and rinse off before the sun sets. Everyone else has permission to do so—why shouldn’t I?”

  The soldier snarled, “Leave your gear and your walking stick with me! And don’t dawdle. I’ve plans for tonight.”

  Drinking and gambling, Ela knew.

  She lowered her pack to the ground and rested the branch beside it. Planning, she removed her small bronze cooking pot from the pack, a comb, a change of clothes for Tzana, and a long mantle for herself. Then she stood and beckoned Tzana and Pet. “Let’s walk upriver.”

  “To scrub?” Tzana clapped her hands. “We need to wash Pet too—his hair is all dirty.”

  “Pet first, then us.” Ela calmed herself during the walk down to the river. Listening to birds chittering in the trees, the rustle of grasses—which lured Pet to graze along the way—and the sighing rush of the current was the perfect remedy for her bad temper.

  As they approached the river, Pet’s hooves splatted against the soggy ground. Ela relished the chill of water against her toes. She didn’t need to coax Pet into the river. He entered the current eagerly, but he blocked Ela from moving into water any deeper than her waist. “Don’t fret,” she murmured. “I know how to swim.” Not well, but Pet didn’t need to know that.

  The destroyer didn’t budge.

  Ela resigned herself to pitching water at the destroyer’s glistening sides, then handing up the filled cooking pot to Tzana repeatedly, until the water ran off the giant horse’s back, sparkling
and clear. Pet’s beautiful mane and tail were rather knotted. Wasn’t she supposed to comb him? She must speak to Tsir Aun or Tal later about caring for her destroyer.

  Satisfied for now, she coaxed Tzana off Pet and gave the little girl a careful head-to-toe scrubbing with fine-grained clay from the riverbank, then doused her thoroughly.

  Fearing soldiers might see her, accidently or otherwise, Ela wore her tunic in the river, scoured herself cautiously, then ducked beneath the water. Until Pet nosed her above the surface.

  “Silly!” she scolded him. “I’m fine. See?” The destroyer grumbled his impatience. Ela sighed. “You’re right. We’d best return to our gear.”

  She waded to the riverbank, worked Tzana into a clean tunic, then wrapped herself in the mantle. No doubt she would dry quickly near a fire. Scanning the river one last time, she noticed a series of dead trees to her left. Grayed snags, their bare branches clawing at the sky as if imploring for mercy from whatever had destroyed them. Why did those snags look so familiar?

  A memory surfaced, unbidden and unwelcomed, of the rough borderlands between Parne and Istgard. A canyon of red rocks with yellow-green striations, all shadowed and garnished by snags of dead trees. Trees poisoned by a— “Scaln!”

  Now, imagery presented itself. Not just one scaln, but an ambush of five scalns. Downriver. Stealth-footed. Approaching . . .

  Ela’s feet seemed stuck in the sodden riverbank. Her thoughts froze. Until the Infinite sent her a stern mental shake. Must men die because you are afraid?

  “Pet!” Ela shrieked over her shoulder, “Stay with Tzana!”

  Run!

  17

  To die of a scaln attack just when his will to live had been restored . . . Maddening!

  Trapped between the river’s edge and five slavering scalns, Kien wielded a dead tree branch, fending off the largest, most aggressive creature.

  Flat yellow eyes narrowing in its broad, blood-red face, the scaln gurgled thickly. Venom oozed from the corners of the creature’s nonexistent lips. A muggy rotting-meat stench swept over Kien in a noxious, stifling wave.

  Kien held the dead limb aimed at the predator, waiting for it to lunge. He would attempt to fork its mouth and keep those poisonous red claws at a distance. Above all, Kien hoped one of his two guards would somehow assist him. Or at least kill him before the entire ambush descended upon him. “Throw me a weapon, you cowards!”

  “Swim!” his most distant guard urged. “Scalns don’t swim.”

  “That’s a lie!” Kien bellowed. “When they finish me, they’ll stalk you!”

  Though he dared not look away from the lead scaln, Kien became aware of another soldier warily approaching the ambush from behind, his sword raised, shield readied.

  Someone else was running toward him from the left—Kien heard footsteps spattering along the riverbank. But his would-be defender slipped and tumbled directly in front of the lead scaln. Horror washed over Kien as he recognized his fallen rescuer. “Ela!”

  Her charge startled all five scalns enough that they skittered backward. Briefly. In unison, the animals regrouped and advanced on her, their gurgling expelling fresh venom. Frantic, Kien urged, “Ela, hold still! I’ll try to ward them off.”

  Ela didn’t respond. Just as the lead scaln stepped within striking distance, she sucked in a raspy breath and cried, “By the Infinite’s Holy Name, He commands you . . . depart!”

  The five scalns flattened themselves as if they’d been smacked down on the riverbank. Almost immediately they recovered and dashed into the river as one, seeming desperate to escape Ela. Confounded, Kien watched as the whole ambush hit the rapids mid-river and was swept gurgling and hissing downstream. Who would believe such a thing? By all accounts, scalns did not retreat from prey. Ever.

  Kien lowered the dead tree limb and knelt beside Ela. “Were you scratched?”

  She shook her head, silent except for wheezing attempts to catch her breath. And she was trembling as if she’d been caught in a winter’s chill. His fingers none too steady, Kien unpinned his coarse red cloak and draped it over Ela’s shoulders. Her hair and clothes were drenched. Had she fallen into the river?

  Kien’s other would-be rescuer joined them. Tsir Aun. Sword still in hand, the soldier swung his shield onto his shoulder, hunkered down, and looked Ela directly in the face. His voice deep and solemn, he said, “Thank you. I’m sure you’ve saved more than just two lives this evening.”

  Ela nodded and looked away from the crown commander. Leaning closer, Kien saw Ela blink at tears. And her chin quivered, making her seem as young and vulnerable as her little sister. Clearly the girl had been terrified, yet she’d faced the scalns anyway. Had he ever witnessed such courage?

  Kien stifled an impulse to fold Ela into his arms and kiss her. It would be safer, and less scandalous, to tease her from that state of near shock. “Ela, thank you—though you took a terrible chance. Scaln stench alone is enough to rot a person alive. No wonder your eyes are watering. Can you stand?”

  “Not yet.” She wiped her lashes.

  Kien’s two guards approached now, both shamefaced. Tsir Aun addressed them dryly. “If our entire army shows your level of courage, we’ve lost already. Return to camp!”

  “Yes, sir.” They hurried up the riverbank with several backward glances. Kien heard them whispering harshly to each other while they departed.

  “As for you . . .” Tsir Aun smiled at Ela. “I wish every soldier in this army had your valor.”

  Kien chuckled. “I’m glad they don’t.”

  “Careful, Tracelander, or I’ll send you downriver after the scalns.”

  Fresh commotion erupted to Kien’s left. A child’s voice piped a stream of complaints amid much splashing. Pet trotted up, dangling the offended Tzana by the back of her tunic as she kicked her scrawny legs and flapped her arms like an aggravated bird.

  “Pet, stop splashing! And you’re drooling on me—Ela’s going to be mad if I’m dirty!”

  The destroyer halted beside Ela, plopped the untidy little girl in her lap, then bared his teeth in an obvious grimace before swinging his big head away with a loud huff.

  Was the monster sulking? Kien bit back a laugh.

  “Why did you run away?” Tzana demanded. She yanked a long, dark wet lock of Ela’s hair. “You should have let us come with you!”

  “Be glad you weren’t here,” Ela said, her voice low. “Pet would have died of scaln scratches.”

  “You won’t let him die,” Tzana argued. “You love him.”

  Interesting perspective. Kien longed to quiz Ela or Tzana for more details, but judged it safer to leave his curiosity unspoken. And unanswered.

  Tsir Aun sheathed his sword and broke the sudden silence. “Let’s return to camp and dry out. Child”—he held out his hands to Tzana—“will you allow me to carry you?”

  “All right.”

  Was this a strategic retreat on the crown commander’s part? Kien hoped so. He bent closer to Ela and murmured, “If you cannot stand, I’ll have to carry you.”

  Ela stood, though she wobbled visibly. Kien gripped her elbow. “That’s better,” he encouraged. “Where’s your walking stick?”

  “It’s not a stick!” She sounded almost affronted.

  Definitely better.

  The destroyer, however, seemed to disagree. As they reached the crest of the riverbank, the monster nosed his way between Kien’s shoulder and Ela’s, coercing Kien to release his hold on Ela’s arm.

  Kien complied, but glared. At least the black fiend wasn’t biting.

  “Tracelander!” A foot soldier motioned toward him. “Get over here and start setting up tents!”

  Smiling as if deferential, Kien pondered ways to sabotage the tents.

  Ela left Tzana dozing near a fire, with Pet standing guard—freed of his war collar and eating his massive ration of feed. She had to retrieve her gear. If only her knees would stop shaking. Imagine! A prophet too distressed to walk straight. Ridiculous.


  She had every reason to celebrate. The Infinite, in His mercy, had protected Kien and Tsir Aun. And most likely the scalns were dead, swept away in the river, unable to kill anyone ever again. But what if she’d hesitated an instant longer? Ela shuddered.

  Ahead, a cluster of guards hovered around Ela’s backpack and the branch, laughing and jostling one another. What were they doing?

  Ela ducked between the men and saw a soldier kick at the branch. When his heavy-sandaled foot swept through the vinewood as if through air, the soldier’s companions and Ela’s guard guffawed at his failure. They were making a game of trying to destroy Eshtmoh’s branch!

  Anger strengthened her wobbly legs. “If you truly understood what you’re doing, you’d be scared spitless—all of you! Instead of behaving like a pack of little boys, why don’t you pray to your Creator for mercy in the coming battle? You’ll need it.”

  “We haven’t gone to war to listen to a woman’s carpin’,” one of the soldiers sneered. The others cackled or nodded agreement.

  “Fine. You’re on your own. Forget your Creator.” Ela hefted the pack of gear onto her shoulders and snatched up the branch. She elbowed past the grinning soldiers and returned to her cook fire. Tzana hadn’t stirred. Good. Ela filled her small kettle with water from this evening’s allotment, then added the grim assortment of grains, dried vegetables, and meat.

  Ela’s guard sauntered up and sat before the fire, clearly amused. Did he think she would cook for him after he’d allowed his comrades to try to destroy the branch? Not likely.

  Evidently sharing her sentiments, Pet abandoned his feed and loomed over the guard, nipping at his hair and shoulders until the man stood, aggravated. He was clever enough though to keep his voice pleasant. “You need to control your destroyer, prophet-girl.”

  “What if I approve of his behavior?”

  “I hope you don’t.” The guard sneered. “I hear you chased off seven scalns.”