Nareash shrugged. “I’m not a clumsy boy like Soyjid. You shouldn’t have any more visions haunting your dreams.”
Tobin’s shoulders sunk in relaxation. He let out a long deep breath. “Thank you.”
He looks more like his old self already.
Chapter 32
A cool breeze blew across the water and swept along the docks, carrying a light mist that sprayed Nareash’s face. He closed his eyes and took in a long slow breath.
This is it.
He looked back through the gate, which led into Juanoq.
After accomplishing his goals, he would send home any Kifzo wishing to return to Hesh. But, he would never set foot on the foreign land again. He had more important things to trouble himself with than revisiting a part of his life he intended to never happen.
First Thurum and Cadonia, then forge an alliance with the Ghal nation.
Once he strengthened the infrastructure of his lands, he would do the one thing that no one had even considered since the Quoron Empire fell centuries before—reenter the lands of the old empire and bring it under the rule of one man again.
Even if I can’t find the scepter, no one will be able to stop me.
Nareash knew that Amcaro’s death meant his chance of finding the scepter again had only improved.
If Aurnon the First couldn’t destroy it, then what could Elyse have done to it?
He turned his back to Juanoq.
Tobin had said his farewell to Nareash the night before. Despite being thankful for healing his mind, he became bitter once again after Nareash told him he intended on taking the Kifzo with him to Thurum. A flash of Tobin’s new anger came into his eyes, but he relented if for nothing else out of debt, thinking the High Mage had healed him.
Tobin’s attitude and his absence among the curious group of onlookers crowding the docks made Nareash’s decision never to return much easier.
Nareash walked over to a group of captains arguing among themselves on the docks. “What’s wrong?”
Faces turned sour looks on him that spoke of how little they wanted to embark on a trip into the unknown. Nareash saw they had crowded around a map, one of the copies Mizak made for each ship.
One of the captains spoke. “We were just discussing the risks.”
“What about them?”
“We don’t like them. We’re traveling to a place that none of us has ever seen and may not exist for all we know. And we’re following a route that hasn’t been mapped in hundreds of years. Who knows what could have changed.” He pointed to the section of the ocean that showed the area affected by an abnormal amount of storm activity and reefs. “We may not survive this journey.”
“All trips have risks. You have orders from Tobin to comply with my command.”
“These risks are too much. I’m not going anywhere until we speak with our warleader in person and voice our concerns.” The captain rolled up his copy of the map and held it out to Nareash.
Nareash narrowed his eyes on the parchment, but did not accept it. I don’t have time for this. “And you speak the concerns of everyone?” he asked, meeting each man’s stare.
“I do.”
Nareash snatched the map from the captain with one hand and clasped his arm with the other. The captain began to writhe in pain as smoke leaked from his orifices. A foul smell filled the air as the captain voided his bowels. Men heaved, as even the wind could not sweep away the stench of burning hair and searing human flesh. Nareash let go of the captain and he fell to the dock.
He wiped his hand on one of the men standing next to him who flinched at the touch. He cleared his throat. “Does he still speak for everyone?”
Silently the group shook their head. One man had the nerve to ask the question they all wanted to know. “What did you do to him?”
“Heated his blood and boiled him from the inside out,” said Nareash in a nonchalant manner. He turned to a nearby captain. “See that this man’s first mate receives the map. Let him know that he’s been promoted.”
The man nodded.
“I’ll be in my quarters if anyone needs me.”
The group cleared a path for him.
* * *
A cool gust of wind swirled around Tobin as he stood on the roof of the palace. He wore nothing above the waist, choosing to feel every sensation of the air while trying to clear his mind. He watched his ships and the best of his army sail out to sea. It was never said, but he knew that he’d never see Nachun again and likely most of those leaving with the shaman.
Tobin turned away as the last white sail crawled across the horizon and disappeared in the bright sunlight. He climbed down from the roof and went to his room where he finished dressing into his light armor of boiled leather.
Tobin left the palace a short while later and made his way through the city, a guard in tow. Everywhere he went people cheered and shouted his name, thrilled that he had brought success and pride to the Heshan clan that had always been looked down upon before Bazraki began his conquest. Yet, all he could think about were the horrible atrocities he had committed. Nachun may have healed his mind, but he could not take away his memories.
Would they still cheer my name if they knew the things I had done?
He knew the answer.
Of course they would. They cheered for Kaz and they cheered for Father too. They only care that I win.
He paid little attention to them during the rest of his walk to the army’s training ground.
Tobin made an appearance and watched over the training exercises led by others he put in charge of the younger warriors. He should have been pleased with their progress and the changes he had instituted since taking over for Kaz, but his mind was still elsewhere.
Can I still be the person I want to be?
* * *
A week at sea in relatively calm waters had eased the worries of many. However, the sun failed to reveal itself on the eighth morning. Dark rainclouds rolled in from the east. Lightning flashed against a horizon as black as midnight, foretelling that the storm would not pass quickly.
For four straight days, the storm mercilessly pounded the fleet. Crews worked around the clock, making repairs and doing all they could to keep their ships afloat. Like everyone else suffering through the weather, Nareash barely slept.
He stood on the sterncastle, next to the captain at the wheel. The High Mage could not trust anyone to maintain the proper course alone in such weather. He squinted into the wind and whipping rain as men fought with a flapping, loose sail. A large gust caused one of the crew to slip. A wave came over the side and washed the man over.
The crew shouted. “Man overboard!”
Others ran over to throw a rope out, but Nareash saw their efforts were useless. The man had disappeared beneath the rolling waves and had yet to surface.
The captain cursed and wheeled on Nareash. “How many more days before we’re out of this?”
“There’s no way to know. One day. Maybe another four.”
“We can’t survive that. The crew is running themselves ragged.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Turn around and go home. I’m not saying for good,” said the captain defensively. Fear tickled his eyes. “But perhaps we should try again in a different part of the year when the waters are better.”
Nareash laughed. “So you want to turn around and travel the same amount of time as it will likely take us to push on? No. We succeed now or we fail and die. It’s that simple.”
The captain sighed. “Can you help us?”
“What do you need?”
“Well, I know you can’t quiet the storm. Can you do something to give the crew more energy?”
Nareash thought for a moment. “Yes. It isn’t much, but they’ll be able to manage on less sleep.”
“Please. Anything is better than nothing.”
Nareash nodded. “I’ll go below and take care of it before sending word to the shamans on the other ships.”
Ch
apter 33
Tomalt was dead.
Kaz received word that Jeldor had defeated him. Jeldor immediately headed south but Markus had destroyed bridges along the way, which slowed his arrival. Kaz sent word back to Jeldor on a new meeting point. The commander demanded a brutal pace to ensure all went as planned.
Elyse rode alongside Kaz, surrounded by her three surviving guardsmen as well as several new additions. The guardsmen had made it back with the remaining members of Olasi’s family shortly before Kaz broke camp.
He spared a glance at the queen as she scanned the land before them, head high, auburn hair cascading down her shoulders. He quickly looked away.
A lone horseman appeared ahead, exiting the thick forest that bordered the side of the road. The rider leaned forward on his mount and the hobbled animal edged toward Kaz with a limp.
Kaz called for a halt and bid the queen to stay with the army as he took off to meet the scout. Behind him, captains prepared their units for the possibility of an attack.
Kaz dismounted and took the reins of the injured animal. Rygar groaned and fell off his saddle into Kaz’s arms. Blood soaked his side. He set the scout down on the ground and lifted his shirt.
“I thought I told you to wear your mail when scouting,” Kaz hissed. He grabbed a rag and pressed it hard against the wound to staunch the flow of blood.
Rygar opened his eyes and coughed. “Too cumbersome,” he whispered before passing out.
* * *
Kaz issued an order that anyone who caught Rygar not wearing his mail was to tell Yanasi immediately. Based on the tongue-lashing she gave him after Wiqua saved his life, Kaz couldn’t think of a better punishment.
An hour later, Kaz had Rygar tell his story in front of the Hell Patrol’s old crew, a larger group than what he usually entertained when discussing strategy.
“So after we realized a force waited just on the other side of the bridge, we went down and scouted them from the southeast. But they expected it and ambushed us. Since you said no one else has returned, it looks like I’m the only one who made it out alive.” Rygar finished up in a somber tone.
“What the heck are we just sittin’ around for then?” called out Raker. A sense of urgency filled his voice. “I know I ain’t used to being part of these things, but c’mon Kaz, do you really need someone to tell you we need to get ready for an attack. Rygar said they were half a day’s ride away. They could be here any moment and we’ll be caught with our trousers around our ankles.”
Kaz leaned over a map and looked at the bridge in question. “We won’t have to worry about that.”
“What do you mean?” asked Raker.
“Because we have to take this road to meet up with Jeldor. They know what our intentions are.”
“And they have the better position too,” said Drake.
Kaz looked up and eyed the boy. “Yes, they do.”
“According to Rygar’s report, we seem to be pretty evenly matched in numbers. We should be able to come up with a strategy to beat them,” said Krytien.
“Beat them? Yes. But at what cost?” asked General Grayer. “We aren’t facing just the remainder of Bronn’s forces. Rygar said they’ve got nearly eight thousand Ghals with them.” The General paled. “Those aren’t regular soldiers. They’re twice the size of us. Does anyone really want to stand toe-to-toe against an army of people his size?” The General nodded over to Crusher.
Crusher grinned. “Actually, I’m on the smaller side. Most in my clan alone are over ten feet tall.”
“Big or small, we all die the same,” muttered Kroke.
Grayer bristled further. “If you want to face the army, then be my guest.”
“C’mon. Me and the kid got this,” said Raker, slapping Drake on the back.
“We do?” gulped Drake.
“Ain’t no sweat. We just hit them with a few boulders and they’ll be good and dead.”
“It’ll take more than a few boulders,” said Yanasi. “We’re talking about eight thousand. And remember, we still got the other ten thousand of Bronn’s forces to contend with.”
“So it seems that we can win, but our losses are likely to be extensive,” said Elyse.
Kaz nodded. “That’s the problem. I had hoped that our sorcery might play an advantage. But according to Crusher, an army of Ghals that size would field their own spellcasters. They shy away from using sorcery to attack with since they find it cowardly, but apparently Ghals are very effective in negating the attacks of others.”
“I want to know what in the world an army of your people are doing in Cadonia anyway,” said Hag to Crusher. “I thought Ghals stayed too busy warring with themselves to bother getting involved in the battles of others.”
“Yeah,” added Raker. “Don’t your people hate our kind?”
“Typically. But, if the price is right, they might be swayed into going against our general beliefs, especially for the right man.”
“What does that mean?” asked Grayer.
Crusher shrugged. “Conroy is on good terms with my people. He saved the life of a chieftain’s daughter once.”
“So this is Conroy’s doing?” asked Grayer.
“It would make sense,” said Elyse. “We’ll be much weaker by the time we meet up with Jeldor. Conroy and Markus’s forces would be well manned and better rested than ours.”
“Glad you made us a part of this, Boss,” Kroke said sarcastically. “Better to get all this bad news out of the way now.”
Kaz’s shoulders bunched at the comment and he saw the glare Elyse cast Kroke. Kaz chose not to respond.
“Well, unless anyone has a better solution, this fight is going to be soldier against soldier. Now, this is what I want . . . .” Kaz began as he went back to his map. Others stepped in closer to see his distribution of forces until a voice cut him off.
“There might be another way.”
Kaz looked up and all eyes turn to Drake. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s something I read the other day on a book I got about foreign cultures.”
“What the heck are you reading about that for, kid?” asked Raker.
Drake ignored him. “An ancient custom of the Ghals called a rihulask allows for the chief warrior from each side to fight the battle by themselves in place of the armies.”
Kaz turned to Crusher. “How come you never told me this?”
Crusher shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Even if our side wins, we still have to worry about Bronn’s remaining forces,” pointed out Grayer.
“They won’t dare attack after a battle has concluded,” said Drake. “The Ghals take the ritual very seriously and would likely turn on them.”
“Sounds like a win-win situation,” said Krytien, “assuming we want to go that route.”
“I’ll do it,” chimed in Kroke.
Kaz shook his head. “No, it has to be me.”
“No,” said Crusher. “You don’t want to do this.”
Kaz gave the giant a confused look. “What’s the matter with you? I have to do this. It will save countless lives. If I had this option on every other battle we’ve fought, I would have done it then too.”
“This isn’t like those battles!” he boomed in a giant voice.
The tent grew silent.
Elyse cleared her throat. “These are his people, Kaz. He would know better than us. Maybe we should reconsider. If you lose . . .”
“I won’t lose,” said Kaz in a curt tone as he stared at the Ghal.
“Don’t do this,” said Crusher.
“Why?”
Crusher eyed the others in the room. “Just don’t.”
“That’s not good enough.”
Crusher swore something incoherent in his native tongue and stalked out of the tent.
“Grayer, get with Drake and send the proper notification to the Ghal army since it seems Crusher won’t help.
Conversations broke out but Kaz paid them little heed. He moved
to the tent entrance and looked out, baffled at his friend’s actions.
* * *
Kaz’s shoulder wrenched back and sweat beaded on his brow. “What are you trying to do to me?” he asked, pivoting toward Cisod.
“I’m trying to get your armor ready.”
“I thought it was ready.”
“It never hurts to make a few minor modifications, especially by the straps. Besides,” he said, looking over at Drake. “We consulted the text again and wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything.”
“I’m glad you only waited until now to double-check,” said Kaz.
“Better late than never. Especially since everything is riding on you this time,” said Drake.
“Thanks.”
“Quit moving. I’d like to do my job here,” said Cisod.
When the blacksmith finished, Kaz admitted the armor did fit better.
“Your sword and shield are over in the corner next to your helm. You need me for anything else?”
“I can’t think of anything,” said Kaz.
“Good luck then,” Cisod said as he left.
“Man, that thing never ceases to impress. It’s like I see something new each time.” Drake stared at Kaz’s breastplate.
Kaz looked down at the symbols on his chest and then at the serpents etched into his arms and legs.
“Oh, Raker told me to give you his best.”
Kaz blinked. “Really? He said that.”
“Well, not exactly. You know Raker. You have to read between the lines, but I’m pretty sure he would give you his best if he knew how to.”
Kaz smiled. Since Raker had gotten his act together, the change in Drake had been remarkable. The boy no longer appeared weighed down by the stress. “And you, do I get your best?”
“I thought that went without saying, though I doubt you’ll need it.”
“You sound like you aren’t worried about the outcome.”
“Of course not. I can’t imagine anyone defeating you. Besides, you knocked out Crusher before and he’s nine feet tall. What’s another foot or two?” He paused, his demeanor turning serious. “Are you worried?”
Kaz shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not afraid if that’s what you mean. Dealing with the politics and administrative duties of an army and a kingdom frighten me far more than fighting. Still, I haven’t seen Crusher since yesterday. That’s not like him.”
Steel And Sorrow (Book 2) Page 37