King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  The swirling windstorm continued, driving the sand around them. Even with their scarves and hoods pulled securely around their faces, the sand still managed to get into their mouths. Kamarie was not sure how much longer she could continue. Her strength was giving out. They had been fighting their way through the storm for hours, and the going was painfully slow. Her whole body ached with the effort of walking through the gale, and the sand was beginning to sting, even through her thick cloak. Just as she thought that she could go no farther, Kamarie tripped over an unseen outcropping of rock and fell forward. She flailed her arms, trying to keep her balance, letting go of her cloak as she fell; she held out her hands and broke her fall a little when she hit the rough, uneven, rocky ground. A dull sting of pain shot through her as her exposed palms scraped against the sharp rocks, but she was too tired to notice. Her cloak and hood were blowing almost straight upward in the wind only attached to her by the ties around her neck and arms. Her scarf had also come loose in the fall.

  Kamarie pushed herself up from the ground slowly and painfully. She had scratches all along her arms and deep gashes on her palms from her fall. Blood dripped from the wounds, and she felt the throb of pain at her bruised left knee. As she stood up she yelped, having forgotten the wind and the driving sand, which had not affected her as she lay on the ground. The sand stung her cheeks, forehead, and arms. She wrestled for a few minutes with her cloak, trying to draw it back around her for protection, but the wind was too strong and she was too drained of energy to fight it. She had the brief thought that it was amazing how much something as tiny as sand could hurt; sand seemed too small and harmless a thing to be able to inflict such agony. Her scraped up arms were burning as though they were on fire as the sand hit them and caused the already smarting wounds to sting with a vengeance.

  Kamarie gave up on the cloak and dropped back down to the ground, huddling with her head buried in the rock. She pulled her arms in around her, trying to find some sort of protection from the wind and sand. She tried to pull her cloak down around her, but when she reached up the sand drove into her wound and made her cry out in pain. I am going to die, she thought, I am going to die here in the middle of this wasteland. The wind will simply continue to blow, and in less than a week I will be nothing but a pile of sand-polished bones.

  Then, for a moment, the wind seemed to stop. She could still hear it whistling around her, but it was no longer pounding sand at her. She looked up and saw that Brant, who had seen her fall, had come back to rescue her. He was now kneeling in front of her, blocking the wind. His cloak was spread out around them both. He helped her stand up and pulled her cloak back into place. Then he helped her tie her scarf around her face once more and pull her hood down tighter. She gazed up at him gratefully, wanting to thank him but not being able to find the right words.

  “Are you all right?” Brant practically had to shout to be heard.

  Kamarie nodded. “You saved my life,” she said, hearing the words fall flat in the wind. She tried to think of something that she could say that would express how much she owed him, but could find nothing.

  Brant looked down at her in concern, noticing the blood oozing from her arms through the cloak. “Can you keep going? It’s just a little farther. I can’t tend to your wounds until we get out of this wind.”

  Kamarie nodded wordlessly, then looked around. “Where’s Oraeyn?” she yelled, trying to make herself heard above the noise of the howling, hostile wind.

  Brant pointed in the direction that they had been going. “There’s a small shelter over there, not much of anything really, just a hole in the ground, but it will serve as some protection while we wait out the storm. Oraeyn found it, almost broke his neck falling into it, but the small protection it offers will be very welcome. We all need rest and some food before we go any farther. I can clean and bandage your arms there.”

  Kamarie gave a weary nod and followed as Brant led her to the cave. She kept her eyes on the ground now, not wishing to risk stumbling again. They fought through the wind and finally reached the shelter. As Brant had said, it was little more than a hole in the ground. Although the blur of blowing sand made it difficult to see anything clearly, Kamarie could still discern the outcropping of rock that Oraeyn had stumbled across. It looked as though the rocks had split in some kind of land-quake with one side risen up above the other, creating an overhanging entrance. Crawling inside, they found that the cave was deeper than they had first thought. Kamarie rushed in, thinking that the ground would be only a foot or two down. She fell further than she had expected, and for a brief moment she envisioned herself falling and falling and never reaching the bottom. She let out a frightened scream, and then two arms reached out and caught her as her feet hit the ground. Without Oraeyn’s help, her knees would have buckled under the greater than expected impact and she may well have broken her legs. However, he half-caught her and helped soften her landing. Brant leapt lightly down after her. Kamarie looked around, trying to get her bearings. It was dim in the cave, and her eyes had not adjusted yet, which meant she could barely see her companions. She found that she was a little afraid to be down in the hole, but she was relieved to be out of the wind.

  Brant’s voice sounded tired, “I want to look at your arms when I can see a bit better and tend to your wounds. We will stay here for the night, and hopefully the windstorm will have broken by morning so we can travel on again. I don’t want to go out in that storm again, but our water won’t last long.”

  “I’m sorry.” Kamarie’s voice was small.

  “It’s not your fault. The ground is uneven, and the storm is far worse than I expected for this time of year. Let me see your arms, and then we should all try to get some sleep.”

  Brant was as sparing with the water as possible, and though he was surprisingly gentle, Kamarie could not help but let out a few whimpers as he cleaned the cuts and scrapes and then bound her arms with some strips of cloth taken from his pack. When he was finished, they hurried down a quick meal of dried jerky and then huddled on their blankets trying to sleep in spite of the howling wind above. Kamarie thought that the pain in her arms and the noise of the storm would keep her from sleeping at all; however, within moments of lying down, exhaustion overtook her, and she fell into a deep sleep. Oraeyn dozed off too, and even Brant slept a little. The wind howled above them, but they were safe beneath the shelter of the rock above and the sand did not find them.

  Kamarie awoke feeling refreshed; the long sleep had been good for her. She sat up and shook the remnants of clinging sleep from her head. She sat for a moment, staring blankly at the stone wall in front of her, trying to get up the motivation to move. Her arms ached, but they were not as painful as they had been the night before. As the fog of sleep lifted and she began to remember the events of the day before and where she was and how she had gotten there, she realized what had woken her up. All night long the wind had howled and screamed, sounding like some sort of wild animal. The sand had whipped above with a steady noise not unlike that of rain, with the occasional drum beat of larger rocks rolling across the stone roof above. Now, though, the noise had stopped, and their cave was deafening in its silence. Kamarie scrambled to the entrance, and in the faint light of dawn, she saw that the drop was not so severe as she had thought the night before. Poking her head into the new day above, she saw that the storm indeed had stopped. It amazed her that, even in this vast desert of rock, the storm had left no trace of its passing.

  Kamarie rushed back down into the cave and woke Brant and Oraeyn. Brant went outside to take stock of their surroundings, and Oraeyn and Kamarie began packing up and getting ready to leave. A few moments later, Brant returned.

  “The storm has truly passed, and only a little while ago too. The sky is clear, and I do not believe that we will come across another windstorm any time soon.”

  Kamarie and Oraeyn looked relieved at these words.

  Brant smiled, and then continued, “We need to take advan
tage of this time that we have. We are going to have to travel more quickly than before if we want to use well this blessing we have been given.”

  Kamarie groaned, but said nothing in protest; instead she asked a question that had been bothering her for some time, “Do you have any idea of how to find Leila’s home?”

  “Dylanna gave me some idea of its location, and I noticed a few of the landmarks yesterday that she mentioned. I believe we are going in the right direction.”

  “How could you notice anything in all of that wind?” Oraeyn asked.

  “It was difficult,” Brant admitted, “but I had no desire to wander around lost in the desert, and I have been in the Harshlands before.”

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Yole was speechless at the sight of the Harshlands. He had expected a land blackened by the Dragon’s Eye, peeled by the driving wind and altogether dead. As he and Kiernan entered the desert, however, Yole realized just how wrong he had been. The Harshlands were indeed barren of any growing things or greenery, but there were so many other colors of reds, browns, and golds that made up more than a thousand-fold for the lack of green. The patches of light from the Dragon’s Eye, penetrating through the gray vapor, accentuated the rich colors of the rock formations in a dazzling display of artistic brilliance. Enhancing this canvas were the deep silver shadows that filled every crevice and the flashing gold swirling through the backdrop. The biggest surprise, however, was that the moment he stepped into the desert Yole discovered that the whole land was alive; it was a fierce life, a harsh and unrefined life, but it was most definitely life.

  Kiernan almost toppled off of the cart in his laughter at Yole’s wide-eyed amazement. He was so amused that it took him several moments to answer Yole’s glare and demand of, “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m sorry my boy, it’s just that your amazement at the Harshlands reminds me of myself the first time I came here. You expected the place to be dead, didn’t you?”

  Yole nodded.

  “Yes, most people do. Something about the name, I think; for some reason the term ‘Harshlands’ puts that notion of death and darkness into people’s minds. But the place wouldn’t be nearly so fearsome if it were dead, now would it?”

  Yole furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what Kiernan meant. He was certainly afraid of things that were dead, and he definitely thought that the Harshlands would be more frightening if they were the grim, dark plains that he had been picturing. Now that he had seen it, he could not understand why people were so afraid of coming to this beautiful, sparkling place that was so filled with life. After a few moments of thought, he still was not sure what Kiernan was trying to say. He shook his head in what he hoped was agreement with whatever it was that the minstrel was trying to explain, and Kiernan seemed satisfied with his answer.

  “The Harshlands have not always been feared, you know,” Kiernan went on. “Long ago, dragons lived in the Harshlands. Yes, my lad, there really were dragons living in Aom-igh. They also resided in the Mountains of Dusk, but all of them preferred the Harshlands. To dragons, this land is indeed alive. While we might think of this land as harsh and barren and colorless, the dragons could see a myriad of colors and dazzling shades of silver and gold and a most startling color of black that would astound you, er, us. It’s a pity that only dragons and creatures of magic can see it, for it is truly a sight to see... or so I have been told,” he added with a twinkle in his eye. “The dragons are the oldest of creatures, and thus their magic is the strongest. It permeates and surrounds the Harshlands, and it is that magic that even you are sensing. The very land itself moves and shifts with a life of its own because the dragon magic is so deeply embedded in this place and in such quantities that it will never depart these lands. The land before you is alive with dragon magic! What do you think of that, Yo... ian?”

  Yole was not sure what he thought of that. He was beginning to believe that nothing would ever surprise him again. He was also wondering what Kiernan would think if he knew that he, Yole, was a dragon himself. And then he frowned, although Kiernan appeared every inch the foolish, lovesick minstrel that he seemed, Yole got the strangest feeling that Kiernan Kane knew exactly what Yole was. In the face of such a frightening possibility, Yole found that he was oddly comforted by the idea that Kiernan knew the truth. He did not have time to puzzle over this strange notion, though, for the minstrel was chattering at him again, breaking into his concentration.

  “Well, my boy, we should be arriving at the wizardess’ house just in time for lunch! Does that sound as good to you as it does to me?” Kiernan asked cheerfully, changing the subject abruptly as was his wont. “As long as we aren’t lunch,” the minstrel added dolefully.

  Yole laughed, having learned to take comments like that as a joke. Kiernan’s sense of humor was foreign to the boy, but after a few days traveling with the man, Yole was beginning to understand the twists of irony hidden within the minstrel’s words. Yole may have felt uncomfortable with the Minstrel’s odd ways, but he had never felt safer in his life.

  Kiernan looked at him and frowned, as though puzzled by Yole’s laughter. “Does the thought of feeding the evil wizardess’ cats amuse you? Because it certainly does not sound like my idea of a good time.”

  Yole only laughed harder, shaking his head and holding his sides because they were starting to hurt from laughing so hard. The sight was so comical that Kiernan could not keep a straight face any longer. He burst into a great roar of laughter as well, laughing as long and as hard and as loudly as Yole. They both laughed until they ran out of breath and were left gasping for air.

  Kiernan slapped Yole on the back. “My friend Y... ian, you have certainly made this trip quite enjoyable. The road can become very boring when there is no one to talk to. I must say I am very lucky you happened to be traveling the same road at the same time that I was.”

  The youth smiled back at Kiernan. “Well, I am sure that I would have gotten lost if I had not found you, and at least now, if I am lost, I didn’t have to walk all this way.”

  Kiernan laughed and patted Yole on the head. “Quite so, youngling, quite so.”

  chapter

  SIXTEEN

  Hours had passed when Oraeyn grabbed Kamarie’s arm and pointed. “Look!”

  Kamarie peered towards the horizon and then rubbed her eyes in disbelief. There, in the distance, stood a solitary stone cottage, which jutted from the ground in generous proportions. Despite its lonely vigil, it did not seem at all out of place, for it had been built of the same red and brown stone and seemed more a part of the landscape than a home. With a cry of relief, Kamarie began sprinting towards the house as though it would disappear if she did not reach it in time. She ignored Brant’s shouts to slow down and approach the house with more caution and continued to run towards the apparition. The distance was greater than she bargained for, and when she reached the stone steps leading to the entry, she found herself overcome with both exhaustion and awe. There were four strong columns supporting the roof above and two sturdy oak doors boasting large metal rings indicating the entry to this forbidding yet charming structure. Kamarie stared up at the large doors, breathing hard. She had felt such a great urgency to get to the house, but now all she felt was fear and doubt. She suddenly realized that perhaps this was not her Aunt Leila’s home after all. She had met her Aunt Leila once before, and surely this lonely existence could not be hers.

  Brant and Oraeyn finally caught up with her, and they all leaned against the columns, panting for breath. Brant looked at Kamarie and shook his head, but he did not say anything out loud. Oraeyn asked what was on all of their minds.

  “Is someone else going to knock, or should I?”

  Kamarie shook her head as she caught her breath. “No, it ought to be me.”

  Oraeyn and Brant both opened their mouths to protest, but before either of them could say anything, Kamarie knocked boldly on the door. For one terrifying second there was no sound at all except the e
cho of the loud knocking. Then the door swung open with aching slowness.

  Kamarie felt her heart race and her body tense to run if whatever was on the other side of the door looked threatening. She held her breath and waited, her muscles coiled and ready to burst into action. Then the door swung all the way open, and Kamarie felt herself engulfed in an enthusiastic embrace.

  “Kamarie, dear! How wonderful to see you again!”

  Kamarie recognized the voice and hugged her aunt back, her fear sliding away like a discarded cloak. Oraeyn and Brant also stepped forward, seeing that it was indeed Kamarie’s Aunt Leila. Seeing them approach, Leila stopped hugging Kamarie, though she did keep one arm slung protectively around her niece’s shoulders, and with the other arm she beckoned to the others, inviting them to follow her inside.

  “You must be Brant and Oraeyn. Come in, please.”

  As they entered the house, Leila continued talking, saying something about a long journey and how they must be tired, but Oraeyn did not listen to her words; instead he focused on her voice. Leila’s voice sounded as though she was accustomed to laughter. It was not the beautiful voice that Queen Zara was famed for, nor was it the deep echoing tones of Calyssia’s voice. Leila’s voice was natural and real. Oraeyn thought that she sounded very much like Kamarie: kind and cheerful, with a tone that was natural and comforting.

  Oraeyn jerked himself out of his thoughts, realizing that Leila was still speaking. “Dylanna has told me much about your journey, I recognized you at once. She will want to see you all right away, we’ve been trying to locate you with our magic for days and she is beside herself with worry. It’s not an exact science, you know, trying to find someone when you don’t know where they are. Much easier to see them when you know their location. My goodness, you all look exhausted. Please, follow me this way, you will want food and drink and rest before you return to your quest.”