Roads of the Righteous and the Rotten (Order of Fire Book 1)

by Kameron A. Williams

  “Ah, the man has plans,” Alyn bantered. “Grand ones.” Zar chuckled. “He is a person of purpose, I daresay.”

  “His purpose being what?”

  “To save Krii,” Zar answered.

  “Truly?” Alyn grinned and chuckled until he saw Zar’s face and realized he wasn’t being facetious. “Save it from what?”

  “Not what, whom,” Zar replied. “To save it from Tiomot, to save it from the Clan of the Condor who are planning to dethrone Tiomot and take it, and to save it from the war that would result from it.”

  “What was the man’s plan?”

  “To keep the land from war by supporting Dandil, the king of the south.” Zar shook his head as if he didn’t believe the words he spoke. “To overthrow Tiomot and cause Dandil to rule both the mainreach and the south.”

  “You’ve spoken many ill things of this King Tiomot,” said Alyn, “but of Dandil I’ve heard nothing. Would you say he is a man fit to rule?”

  “I believe so,” Zar answered. “Dandil is old and stubborn, perhaps a touch selfish—not minding the affairs of the mainreach as long as all is well in his Cyana—but there is peace in his lands. He doesn’t favor war or lawlessness. His patrols aren’t criminals. Krii would be better under his rule, I daresay.”

  “So what stopped the man from fulfilling this plan?”

  “I doubt anything could stop that man,” said Zar with a laugh. “He’s probably making an attempt as we speak.” Zar grew quiet as Tuskin’s words echoed in his mind, and Alyn read his face as the solemnity straightened his lips from a smile to grimness.

  “What is it?”

  “Before I left the continent, he asked me to help him.”

  “Yet you are here instead,” said Alyn.

  “Yet I am here instead,” said Zar as his eyes fell to the ground. He didn’t want to meet his brother’s gaze. He knew what Alyn would say—he didn’t want to hear it, but he was about to anyway.

  “You’ve spoken of nothing more since you’ve been here then how rotten the land is where you come from. I find it strange that when a man offered a solution you left instead of pausing to consider it.” Alyn’s voice was soft as usual, but cut straight to the heart. His tone was merciful, his words were not.

  “And who told you I didn’t consider it?” Zar questioned. “Of course I considered it. I considered it and decided to keep my life instead of being a hero. Tiomot wants me dead.”

  “The decision was yours alone, brother. All I say is this: you have no right to complain about the world if you won’t make an effort to change it. Men like you and Tuskin may be all your country needs. You’ve ever praised our well- being here, but it wasn’t always so. Once upon a time we were poor and war-torn. It took the collaboration of men to bring about the Xuul you so love and praise today.”

  “I wasn’t ready, then,” said Zar, meeting Alyn’s eyes and holding his gaze. “I was nothing more than a man without a place.”

  “And now?”

  “Now my place is clear. It’s not enough to leave Krii if there are people I love that are still there. If it’s in my power to change it, I will.”

  “And if you find you cannot,” said Alyn, “you bring them here. You bring them home.”

  “I’ll sail back this winter—while Leviathan sleeps.”

  “You’re a wanted man there,” said Alyn, “you should take some men with you—”

  “I’ll go alone,” Zar stated. “It will be better not to draw attention. I’ve been a wanted man most of my life—wanted by noblemen because of supposed crimes, wanted by their wives because of the allure of being wanted.” Zar smirked. “And through all the wanting I’ve managed to survive.”

  Prince Alyn laughed. “Truly, brother, you are a Prince of Xuul now. There’s no need to do this alone.”

  “I do appreciate the sentiment,” Zar replied, “but I wish for the soldiers of Xuul to stay in Xuul. The help I need will be in Krii, I daresay.”

  “So be it,” Alyn agreed. “I would go myself if I didn’t have affairs here—and if my date of return was a certain thing. You may have to wait until the next winter to find your way back, unless you want to gamble with your odds like the last time. Truly, I don’t recommend it.”

  “Your people need you here. There will be other days for traveling. I’m sure you imagine it a lovely sight seeing a land you’ve never been to before.”

  “I’ve seen Krii,” said Alyn. “When I was just a boy our family traveled over on a winter trade ship. Father said traveling to other lands and seeing new things was a luxury that wasn’t afforded to everyone, and that I should appreciate every sight.”

  “The well traveled Alyn,” Zar bantered.

  “Well traveled indeed,” the prince replied, grinning.

  “In a few weeks I’ll be traveling to Numaya in the south to court the beautiful Lady Teree.”

  “Ah, the beautiful Lady Teree?”

  “Aye, at least the last time I saw her she was. Let us pray the years have been kind.”

  “How far is this Numaya? How many days journey?”

  “Not days. Weeks, months. It’s as far south as south goes, the grand duchy of Duke Raabin. They were their own kingdom once. Now that Xuul rules all of Serradiia it is our royal practice for our sons and daughters to find wives and husbands from different corners of our country, so that the lands which we are far away from and have less influence over will remain loyal through the bond of matrimony. Our people becomes their people, and theirs ours.”

  “You’re making one big family,” said Zar impressed. “The wise nobles of Xuul.”

  Alyn shook his head. “The winter will be upon us in two months. I’ll send a messenger to the coast for the trade ship schedules. If you refuse to take men with you there’s no need to prepare a ship. There are several trade ships that cross to Krii in the winter, and you can make the journey without much notice—if that’s your intent.”

  “It is.”

  The two men were silent for a while and Alyn looked at Zar with a soft smile before speaking again. “Rhea has become fond of you.”

  “And I of her,” Zar replied. He wished to say nothing more of Rhea to Alyn. Not that she was the reason he didn’t want to leave Xuul. Not that she was beautiful, and from the first time he’d laid eyes on her he’d desired her. He didn’t want to mention the peculiar bond that had developed between them since their first conversation, an attraction that wasn’t driven by lust, but by honesty, and curiosity of one another. While Zar had nothing to be ashamed of in this situation, he thought it best to be succinct on the matter. He didn’t want to say anything he would be responsible for later, and since he wasn’t sure there would be a later, he said nothing else.

  °

  “Will you be back?” was all she asked. She didn’t care to know the specifics of his plans, plans that Zar himself didn’t yet have. All she wanted to know was would he return. He told her “Yes,” not knowing if it was true, but hoping to the heavens it was.

  When Alyn left for the south it seemed Zar and Rhea never parted. Zar loved to be with her. She made him smile just by being herself—her facial expressions, the sound of her voice, the light in her eyes. Here was a woman who chastised her own guards for following her and Zar as they rode through the countryside, telling them emphatically, “This is your prince! Do you also follow when I am riding with Alyn, or do you not trust your prince from Krii?” Here was a woman who knew she was beautiful yet was humble still, and attributed every good thing she had as a gift from the One God.

  She was beautiful in the morning, fresh from sleep in her bed robe and her hair uncombed. She rode fiercely through the woods with her hair down, her dark locks flowing through the air behind her as she moved. She looked just as beautiful in those leather riding clothes as she did daintied up in her royal gown with her hair pulled back.

  Zar had never courted a princess, and was careful how he spoke to her and what he said. He never moved to touch her unless blatantly invited,
and they had done nothing more than hold each other’s hand or arm while walking in the field.

  She intrigued Zar with her gentle eyes and cutting words, with her seeming naivety that was an illusion made apparent every time she spoke, with how innocent she looked, but how knowing she actually was. And more than this, he was drawn to her for reasons more true than her comely face or how she filled out her garments. She stirred far more than his flesh.

  After riding for hours, Zar and Rhea dismounted and rested by a brook, lying on their stomachs as they gazed towards the water. “My brother says you’re too hard on yourself, constantly remembering old mistakes,” Rhea said.

  “Does he, now?” Zar replied. “And would you also give encouraging words? I know you’re just as philosophical as he.”

  The princess giggled, and scooted closer to the bank of the stream until she overlooked the water. “I would give a warning.”

  Intrigued, Zar scooted next to her. “What warning?”

  “Who do you see in the mirror, Zar?”

  Zar looked down into the water, but knew the woman was talking about more than his reflection. So he spoke honestly, just as honest as he had been with her brother. “I see a man, corrupt and wicked.”

  “Then here is my warning,” said Rhea, turning her face from the water to look at Zar. “Take care what you say about yourself, for what you say you will believe, and what you believe you will become.”

  “I don’t wish to be that man,” said Zar.

  “Who do you wish to be?”

  Zar thought for a moment then replied, “I wish to be the man your father said I was—Zar, prince of Xuul, Leviathan’s Contender, and Patron of the Lost City.”

  “Then be that man,” said the princess. “From this day on be that man, and do not ever say you are anything else.”

  26

  THE JOURNEY BACK TO THE EAST was remarkably quiet compared to his first journey across Dragon’s Bed. He keenly recalled that eventful crossing over a year ago, when Stroan and Yuna had met their end, they came face to face with Leviathan, and Prynner’s ship had been set ablaze. Remembering all that, he marveled at how different his experience was now, huddled in the corner of a tiny trade ship, compared to all that had happened on the Lucky Dolphin. It didn’t seem that anyone was concerned with the appearance of the dragon, as if they all knew the creature slept beneath the waves. No one so much as even looked at the water, but kept to their tasks bundled in furs as the frigid air kept them awake.

  “I wonder how many times they’ve done it, Asha,” Zar remarked. The camel stirred slightly in their corner of the hold, her fur brushing against Zar’s back as she shifted. “No one is fearful of the dragon now, it’s far too cold.” Zar adjusted his blanket then squeezed together his folded arms while pushing back into Asha’s warm body.

  The three days it took to cross the Dragon’s Bed went fast, for Zar nearly slept through them. It seemed only moments after he had settled in the hold with Asha that he heard the crew above yelling for land. Zar stepped back onto Krii feeling sluggish and lazy. He had spent far too much time lying down, but the air was cold and after a brisk walk to Prynner’s cottage, his body began to liven up. After seeing Prynner liven up after placing a great bag of gold and jewels in his hands, Zar livened up even more. He loved to see good men rewarded for their goodness, especially men as humble and gentle as Prynner. It gave him solace that among all the wickedness and atrocities he had witnessed, there was a subtle fairness to the world, a few sparse moments where men actually received what they deserved.

  After getting off the ship, Zar took a long bath and changed out of his traveler’s clothes and into his royal garments given to him upon his ascension to Prince of Xuul. Prynner marveled at the crimson colored tunic with the crest of Xuul etched in its center, the hooded chainmail shirt he wore beneath it, and the fancy studded leather boots and embroidered gloves that covered his hands and feet. After Zar told him of how he had acquired them, Prynner joked with Zar the rest of the time by bowing and saying “my prince” every time he addressed him.

  Zar spent the remainder of the winter months relaxing with Prynner. It wasn’t until early spring when it had warmed up a measure that he readied himself again for travel and set his mind to his task. He traveled east towards the mainreach, planning to stop at Or to visit Ramla on the way before heading towards Blackwood Forest where he hoped to find Tuskin. He might even run into the man before then, assuming that Tuskin was still running around hatching plots for the preservation of the land. Zar also assumed that he was still very much a wanted man, and that the Condor apostates the Butcher and the Ghost would be after him, not to mention any guards that knew what he looked like. So, although he very much wanted to visit Barek and Shahla in the meadow, he decided to forgo the pleasure of a Fairview visit for fear of trouble following him there.

  As for Or, he was not concerned. He was too far off from the populated heart of the mainreach for him to be seen and followed there. He kept low on the border of Lolia, then cut north into the hills. No one could have seen him yet, not at this point. Besides his careful maneuvering, even if someone did see him venture alone into the hills of Or, he doubted they would dare follow; even if they did dare, he doubted they could find their way down to the caverns without being killed by the labyrinth of cliffs that surrounded the place.

  Navigating again through those treacherous cliffs, Zar came upon the caverns. As Asha took her usual seat outside the entrance, Zar looked into the cave’s mouth to find it completely black. There were no lit torches to guide his way.

  He took a few more steps in, hoping to see a flicker of fire to guide his steps, but he found none. He could see nothing at all, nothing but black, so he turned around and returned to the outside.

  “There are no torches to light the way, Asha. I can’t see a thing. Curious, I daresay. Well, I’ll need the flint and tender from your bag. Aye, and the torch.”

  Zar pulled his knife and scraped sparks from the flint until the tender ignited. He held the torch over it until it caught flame, and stepped back into the cavern guided by its light.

  “Ramla,” he called. “Maidens of Or. It’s Zar.”

  The silence of the place was not unusual, but the lack of fires burning in the front, the fact that there was no one to be seen, and the smell that began to haunt Zar’s nostrils was very peculiar. Far more than just being an oddity, the smell was offensive. As he moved further along, the smell grew rank and sour, and Zar’s face twisted in disgust as he breathed in the fetid scent. It smelled like death, or more specifically, a rotting corpse.

  He nearly tripped over an object lying in his path, and waved his torch low. There it was—a decomposing body, flies and maggots reveling in the flesh that rotted off the bones.

  “Ramla!” Zar shouted, hurrying along from the corpse only to find another a few paces away. He moved quickly along. The entrance tunnel ended and Zar shuffled into the first open den area—nearly running. The room was full of the dead.

  Sprawled about his feet were fetid remains writhing with worms, emitting a scent as noxious as it was horrendous. Zar looked at the mess and knew that the maidens of Or had been slaughtered. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know why, but he knew that the decaying corpses he now stood among were the curious Maidens of Or—those silent, beautiful, mystifying creatures that would now be no more than a myth or legend, spoken by men who had never truly seen them.

  Ramla! Where was Ramla? He hurried back to her dwelling and stood aghast at the entrance to her den. There were three corpses on the ground. He approached slowly. They were decomposing too badly to indentify which one was her. Zar dropped to his knees. He saw Ramla’s face in his mind, he felt her touch, and he heard her voice. It was painful to imagine her as one of the corpses that lay before him now, foul and rotting.

  Zar called out and cried.

  It was a brief moment of sorrow before the anger came. Zar searched the room. He wanted to have some things of hers—to rem
ember her by. He wanted to find a clue that would lead him to the monsters that did this.

  Zar waved his torch around the room and collected items. First, he searched a rack near her bedding where she kept personal items—a few pouches, and what looked to be some jewelry. He took them all. An arrow that was still embedded in the rotting tissue of one of the corpses he grabbed also, as well as a few more arrow shafts that littered the floor on his way out.

  Zar exited the cavern to find Asha looking towards him with concern. She knew something was awry, whether she had heard Zar’s shout or could feel his distress, she knew something was wrong. She stood watching as Zar, moving feverishly, threw all the items he had collected on the ground and examined them in the light. The arrows were unique— bright red fletching and the shaft stained the same color nearly all the way up to the point. His chances of finding the culprits had improved markedly. He nodded ardently and smirked, relishing the fact he had some way of indentifying the villains who had murdered his friend.

  “I will find them, Asha!” Zar called. “I will find them!”

  Next he looked through Ramla’s belongings, dumping both pouches onto the ground with the other items. His arms shook as he sifted through them—oracle bones, shells, two necklaces, a knife … Zar sighed looking down at them. These items were the remnants of his friend—not the rotting corpse that lay in her den. He would not remember her that way. He would remember her how she was when he last saw her—how she always was—beautiful and kind, wondrously obscure, playful, and seductive. He would remember her mystique. For as long as he lived he would remember.

  On the ground before him a necklace caught his eye.

  It had a simple leather string, but its pendant was a giant claw—a dragon’s claw. Zar picked it up and examined it. “Your brother Alyn.”

  “Asha!” Zar called. “It’s her! Asha, this … this is the Leviathan’s claw Alyn spoke of! His mother was a witch! He told me. His sister was sent away and he gave her this claw! It was her! It was Ramla!