Mark of Fire (The Endarian Prophecy Book 1)

by Richard Phillips

  When Arn emerged to stand on the bank, he found that he felt much better than he had in days. He lay his clothes on the grass and set to work wringing the water from them. He then slipped back into his wet trousers, carrying the rest of the garments back to camp, glad to see a big campfire. A leg of deer hung suspended on a stick over the flames. The smell set his stomach to growling.

  “Hungry, are you?” John asked. “Try my special recipe, then.”

  Arn cut himself a large slice, the juice hissing where it dripped into the fire. He ate silently, ravenously. When he finally stopped and looked around, he saw the Endarian standing by a pine tree, looking at him with a smile.

  “Kim has never seen any non-vorg with such downright barbaric manners,” Ty interjected. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think I have, either.”

  “Kim, is it?” Arn asked, ignoring the rest of the comment.

  “Princess Kimber,” she said, walking over to join the group, wearing fresh buckskin. “It has been a while since I found myself in the presence of three gentlefolk. I thank you all. Since we will continue to be traveling companions for some time to come, addressing me as Princess Kimber will quickly become annoying. My friends and family call me Kim. Please do the same.”

  “Thank you,” Arn said.

  From the regal way that she carried herself and the self-confident sparkle in her eyes, Arn could see that if the princess had not fully recovered from the trauma of her enslavement, she was well on her way. He assumed that she had tanned her crisp attire, as he imagined John and Ty lacked the vision and skill to complete such a feat. He took her hand and bent to kiss it.

  “Kim it is, then,” said Arn. “Are you all in the mood to discuss our plan going forward?”

  “I traveled through this country as we made our way southeast from Endar Pass,” said Kim. “The country on the other side of those mountains is much like what we have passed through these last few days. However, it drops off gradually until it reaches a great desert.”

  “If there is a desert to our west,” Arn said, “we’ll need to locate a town where we can purchase supplies and find a guide to lead us across.”

  “I don’t intend to go west,” Kim said. “I came in search of a particular human nobleman, and I will complete my mission. When we reach a town, I will find someone to accompany me to my journey’s end.”

  Arn and the other two men stared at the Endarian princess. She stood with her arms crossed, her head held high.

  “You can’t be serious!” John said, clearly just learning of Kim’s intent.

  “I am quite serious.”

  Arn watched as her remark precipitated a heated argument between Kim and John. Despite the logic John offered, she steadfastly refused to budge from her decision to complete her search.

  Finally, John threw up his hands in disgust. “If you’re determined to get yourself killed, then I’ll go with you.”

  “Get a rope, Arn,” said Ty. “Let’s tie up these two before they injure themselves.”

  “Hold on,” said Arn. “Kim, if the nobleman still lives in Tal, I will know of him. Whom do you seek?”

  Kim’s brown eyes softened as she stared at Arn. She took a deep breath. “Years ago, during the Vorg War, King Rodan of Tal sent an emissary to my mother, Queen Elan, proposing an alliance. That man’s name was Jared Rafel, and over the weeks that passed as the queen gathered her army of the North, she and Lord Rafel grew close. But when Lord Rafel was recalled to take command of the army of Tal, they parted. Now my queen, my mother, has sent me to seek him out to deliver a personal message.”

  “What?” Shock flooded Arn’s body. This Endarian princess was seeking Rafel, his adopted sire, who was likely fleeing into the west at this very moment.

  “And,” Kim continued, “although he does not know it, Jared Rafel is my father.”

  Her statement rocked Arn. Even though he had betrayed King Gilbert to warn Rafel, leaving himself a hunted fugitive, his debt remained. Now he had stumbled upon a daughter Jared Rafel did not know he had. Apparently the fates were not ready for Arn to separate his lot from that of the high lord.

  An old rhyme filled Arn’s mind.

  Our fates intertwine

  And we are granted no rest

  Much as Landerthel dew

  Seeps from the Krel nest

  And though we do struggle

  To burst from these bonds

  The master, Jalsathoth

  Arises and dons

  His armor and weapons

  And all his war things

  Forward he drives us

  To see what fate brings

  The wise know ’tis useless

  For none may e’er change

  How the gods they do move us

  While playing their games

  Hope lit Kim’s face. “You know Jared Rafel?”

  “I do. But you won’t find him in the east. Tal’s young king has branded Rafel a traitor. The lord leads his legion into the west as we speak.”

  This last part was an educated guess, but Arn believed what he said.

  Seeing the pain in Kim’s face, he hesitated. Despite his reluctance to believe in fate, he felt its weight on his shoulders. “If you’re determined to find High Lord Rafel,” he said, “then I will help you.”

  “As will I,” said John, his voice thickening.

  John and Arn stared at Ty. “Okay. I guess I’m in, too. The gods only know what sort of trouble these two would lead you into without me along.”

  Kim’s gaze wandered from one to the other, tears filling her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “There is no debt, Highness,” John said. “While I live, my life is yours.”

  Ty cleared his throat. “If you two are done mooning over each other, I suggest that we get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and I want to get an early start.”

  John turned toward the Kanjari. “I’ve had it with your snide comments.”

  “The mush was getting so deep that Arn and I had to stand on our toes to keep our noses clear.”

  “I’ll take first watch,” Arn said, wanting no part of the empty chatter. Upon Kim’s revelation, he yearned yet again for solitude. “Ty, I’ll wake you at midnight.”

  With that, he turned and walked up the hill toward the scarlet sunset that boiled above Horse Head Rock. He reached the crest just a hundred feet from the camp, a position that presented a commanding view of the valley and their camp.

  For the next several hours, he sat watching and listening as the moon rose in the east, ignoring the ache in his injured arm. As the evening waned, a strange trick of the high-country atmosphere carried scraps of conversation from the camp to Arn’s ears.

  “I’m not saying we can’t trust him, John; I’m just pointing out that if he’s Blade, he doesn’t need us. To a man like that, friends are a hindrance.”

  “You’re wrong. I sense something about him that doesn’t fit his reputation.”

  “I’ll admit we owe Arn a lot,” said Ty. “But we need to go slow with him. Just think about the last couple of weeks. He helps you escape with Kim, staying behind in a whole room full of hostile vorgs, and then he shows up again, unscathed. Then he leaves to attack the vorgs that are chasing the princess. And here he is again, horribly smelly at first but still mostly unharmed. I’ll stand by what I said before. Arn doesn’t need anyone but himself.”

  “Normally, I’d agree with you. But not this time.”

  “Did you see Arn’s face when Kim mentioned Jared Rafel?” asked Ty. “I don’t like coincidences.”

  “Arn didn’t have to risk his life to save ours. I think he’s earned our trust.”

  “I’m only saying we should add a pinch of caution.”

  Arn smiled as the wind shifted and the conversation faded. In a way, both were right about him. He had never allowed himself to become so closely tied to anyone after his parents’ murders, except High Lord Rafel and his family. But that was different.

  Arn lost
himself in the sounds of the night, from the shrill chirp of crickets to the sough of the wind in the trees. At midnight, he walked back down to camp and aroused Ty for his watch. Seconds later he was asleep, wrapped in a dead vorg’s coat.

  Long before dawn, the group had eaten, packed, and begun riding west across the valley. By their ongoing banter, John and Ty seemed to have found the old humor that had been somewhat missing in the days since they had rescued the Endarian princess. Even the weather seemed to reflect their improved attitudes. A noticeable warming had occurred. Flowers bloomed, not just on the valley floor but also in the higher meadows. Evening found the travelers in one of those high meadows, well away from Horse Head Rock.

  For the next several days, they traveled steadily westward, first climbing into the mountains and then beginning the gradual descent toward the yet unseen desert. One morning, they caught their first glimpse of the wastelands. From the crest of a hill, Arn saw it, a vast terrain, treeless and barren, but spotted with dark splotches.

  Kim responded to Arn’s questioning glance. “It’s only thorn brush, growing on the tops of the dunes. From here, the brush looks rather green, but up close it’s as harsh as the desert itself. Every plant that grows out there has spines of one sort or another.

  “The desert is filled with all types of cacti. The rocky hills are covered with the plants, giving them a silver sheen. The needles have a mild poison that hurts terribly and barbed ends that break off beneath the skin when you try to pull them out.”

  Ty snorted. “John, I take back what I said about you two not mooning over each other. Get her talking about the moon and stars before she gets me depressed.”

  Kim frowned at Ty and kicked her horse on down the hill.

  Feeling his oats at this success, Ty started in on John. “I’ve had a yearning to hear some love songs, myself. How about singing one for us while we ride along, John?”

  “I’m going to set your head to singing if you don’t shut up.”

  “Arn, don’t you think John’s getting a little touchy? Here I make an innocent remark about my love of music, and he gets upset.”

  Apparently not wanting to hear any more, John kicked his horse and trotted ahead of the others to ride beside Kim.

  A disappointed look settled on Ty’s face as his tongue’s targets withdrew from the onslaught. If there was one thing he hated more than having no one to argue with, it was winning the argument too quickly. He glanced over at Arn, as if wondering whether he could get on his nerves, too, but then averted his gaze.

  “I think I’ll scout on ahead,” Ty said.

  Arn gazed at the Kanjari who did not fully trust him. “That’s a sound idea,” he replied. “I’d hate for you to make me mad as well.”

  The blond barbarian merely spun his stallion and loped off.

  13

  Central Banjee River—Eastern Edge of the Mogev Desert

  YOR 413, Early Spring

  The hills dropped away in front of him, drawing Arn’s eyes to the Banjee River, which separated the verdant land from the wasteland that lay to their west. When they reached the water’s edge, the group turned north. Ty rode well out in front, occasionally disappearing, only to emerge higher on the hillside. Arn brought up the rear, trailing behind John and Kim, who rode side by side, locked deep in conversation, with John often appearing transfixed.

  Arn enjoyed feeling the powerful horse move beneath him, savoring how the animal did not need to be guided or prodded. He did have to slow Ax down occasionally, causing the horse to toss his head in disgust.

  Around noon of the third day’s travel along the river, Ty trotted back to them. “There’s a caravan camped by the river ahead.”

  “How many?” Arn asked.

  “Maybe a hundred desert nomads. They’ve got camels and horses and twenty-two wagons.”

  “Bandits?” asked John.

  “They have women and children with them. I doubt raiders would bring women and children along.”

  “What do you think, Arn?” asked John.

  “Ty’s probably right. Whether they’re friendly or not is another story. But we’re not going to find desert guides without taking chances.”

  Ty wheeled the stallion around, leading the way toward the nomad camp, which came into view as they rounded a bend in the river. Colorful tents had been set up along the far riverbank, each sporting a unique pattern like a collection of tapestries. Nomads moved back and forth between the tents and the river, women carrying pots of water or baskets of laundry on their heads. From within the camp, Arn could hear the echo of a blacksmith’s hammer.

  As Arn and his three companions rode their mounts into the river, a heavily armed group of eight riders loped up to the far bank to meet them.

  “Hello, strangers,” the leader of the waiting group yelled as they approached.

  “Good morning,” Ty responded, bringing his stallion to a halt.

  “And what may we do for you?”

  “We saw your camp and rode over to ask your advice on getting across the desert.”

  “Hah! My advice? Don’t try it.”

  Loud guffaws from the man’s companions supported this assertion.

  Ty grinned. “Probably wise counsel. Unfortunately, that’s not an option, so we need guides. We’re willing to pay.”

  “We won’t keep you sitting on your horses in the river all day. Come to our camp. We’ll discuss the matter over dinner, if your friends are agreeable.”

  “That we are.” John spoke up.

  “Fine, then.”

  The leader turned his horse toward the tents. Ty, John, Kim, and Arn followed, with the other armed men trailing behind.

  The camp consisted of a group of closely set tents flanked by two large rope corrals; one held several dozen camels, while the other contained horses. The leader signaled for the group to halt in front of the largest of the tents, its canvas dyed bright scarlet with yellow crescent moons placed at random intervals. A deep-blue pennant with another moon flapped from the center pole. Arn and the others dismounted.

  The leader entered the tent, then reemerged with another man who carried himself with an air of authority. The newcomer was short but of tremendous girth.

  “Welcome, travelers. I am Narush, sultan of the Mogev Desert. Queel here tells me that you come seeking guides. We may be able to be of assistance. However, before we discuss business, let me offer you the hospitality of my tent and a hearty repast. My men will ensure that your horses are fed and watered.”

  “We accept your hospitality,” Arn answered, inclining his head slightly.

  His companions duplicated his action, except for Kimber. The Endarian stared at the sultan as if she expected him to bow. It seemed to Arn that the man had to fight off an urge to do so.

  After they had turned their horses over to grooms, they were ushered inside. Narush clapped his hands, and their escorts departed. All that remained were two personal guards and three serving girls. One of the guards caught Arn’s attention.

  The ground on the guard’s side of the tent seemed to tilt toward him, such was the size of the giant. Attired in loose, flowing robes, the man towered above everyone. Even Ty’s head came only to the guard’s shoulder.

  “I see you’ve noticed my bodyguard. I would like to introduce you. Kaleb, come over and shake hands with my guests.”

  The giant stepped forward. Arn reached out, only to have his hand engulfed in a fist the size of a ham. He found that he could not even grasp across the palm, causing his handshake to seem like a flat fish. As Kaleb passed along the line, Arn could see from the faces of the others that they had also shared the humiliating experience, although Ty at least managed to grip the behemoth’s hand. A smirk creased the corners of Kaleb’s eyes as he returned to his corner.

  Irritation eliminated any good feeling Arn had entertained at their welcome. Plainly Narush wanted them to know who was in charge and was not concerned with whether they liked such a display or not. This was either a negot
iating ploy or the signal of something worse.

  “Shall we eat?” Narush gestured toward a carpet spread upon the ground.

  While Arn and his companions were distracted, serving girls had been busily spreading dishes filled with fruits, meat, bread, and cheese upon a gilded floor covering. They also distributed goblets of water and wine. As soon as the visitors had seated themselves on pillows positioned around the edge of the rug, their host began devouring his food, interspersing grunts of pleasure between his slurping and smacking. Arn glanced up to see a look of disgust cross Kim’s face, while John and Ty began eating. Arn signaled to the Endarian, subtly asking her to do likewise.

  He found the food delicious. The meat seemed to be goat, although he had not seen any of the animals upon entering the camp. He was unable to identify several types of fruit, but they had obviously been gathered nearby. Evidently winter didn’t set in this lowland, allowing fruits to grow year-round.

  Once the diners had finished eating, the host leaned back, and one of the serving girls came forward with a bowl of water, wiping the sultan’s face and hands. Once these ablutions had been completed, Narush snapped his fingers, and all but the two bodyguards departed.

  “Aha. Now, my young friends, we can properly discuss your business here. Tell me, where are you going, and how much are you able to pay for a guide? I do not care to be insulted by low offers.”

  A low growl issued from Ty’s throat, and Arn saw the muscles in his right forearm tighten.

  Arn responded before the Kanjari could escalate tensions. “We need to cross the desert to reach the lands to the west. What price do you ask to provide us a guide?”

  “All I want is the girl.”

  John started to rise, but Arn’s hand on his shoulder held him in place. “No deal. She is one of our group, not property.”

  “Any person is property, given the right circumstances. Do not slave traders abound up and down the east Banjee? However, to allay your fears, I will agree to take her as one of my wives as opposed to my slave.”