DAWN OF THE PHOENIX Page 15

Kian still looked at Siro like he didn’t understand.

  “Have you ever been to the Harsh Coast?” Siro asked.

  “No, but I can find it on a map,” Kian said with pride.

  “Well, that’s good, but if you haven’t been there, it will be hard for me to make you understand. Since you are curious, I will try. Ardakians are a warlike race, most of the lands of the Harsh Coast prize skills that involve strong bodies and an aptitude with weapons. Just like your friends K’xarr and Cromwell. I was never strong and had little interest in weapons. When I began reading and learning my craft, my father was not happy with me. He said I had been a waste of his seed and he should have killed my mother and me. So I took his displeasure to mean my father may at some point in my life decide to kill me. I left the Coast not long after his outburst and tried to find someone who would appreciate my skills.”

  “Your father was wrong and cruel, Siro, you are a very handy man to have around.”

  The healer smiled. “I am glad you think so. Ardak is not a land known for its tender people. My father was like most other Ardakians, nasty and callous. It is just the way of the Harsh Coast. Now go on and stop bothering me. I accept your thanks with pleasure.”

  Kian rode on up ahead. He liked the healer, even though Siro could be gruff at times.

  Vandarus rode his big bay alongside Rufio. “I have a question for you, my Dragitan friend.”

  Rufio rolled his eyes. “If you have come up here to try to be funny, Vandarus, I’m not in the mood.

  “No, that’s not what I wanted and I don’t have to try to be funny.” The Bandaran grinned. “I wanted to know what you make of this bunch.”

  “Why ask me? You’ve been around them as long as I have.”

  “That’s true, but you’re the one who was an officer in the mighty Dragitan army, and you have a lot more wear on you than I do.”

  Rufio ran his hand through his curly black hair. “It was junior officer and I only lasted about a year in the legions.”

  The blonde man held out his hands. “Well, it’s more experience than I have.”

  “Okay, Vandarus, I will tell you what I think as long as you promise to keep it to yourself. But first, tell me why you’re asking?”

  Vandarus’s grin faded. “I don’t know, sometimes I just get a strange feeling about them. Not the healer so much, it’s the other three.”

  Rufio, normally a very serious man, chuckled. “I know what you mean, my friend. It’s because someone else rides with them.”

  Vandarus looked back to where the others rode, but he saw no one else. "What do you mean, Rufio?”

  “I believe death rides with them.”

  The Bandaran’s eyebrows rose. “What the hell does that mean? You’re not doing much to quell my fears, Rufio.”

  The Dragitan smiled at the younger man. “I didn’t think you spooked that easy. You’re a fighting man, Vandarus, why would you fear death?”

  The Bandaran sighed heavily. “I don’t, at least no more than any other man, but I am not sure I want to ride with it.”

  “Well, I believe we are doing just that.” Rufio nodded toward the Camiran. “Look at K’xarr up there in that mismatched armor and that old longsword of his. Not a coin in his pocket. Most men like that I would not give a second thought, let alone to ride with, but look into his eyes, Vandarus, you will see the cunning there. The focus, his mind is always at work. He is a deliberate man, command comes very easy for him. Being a leader is just his nature. If he’s not killed young, I think he could be a great man one day.”

  Rufio turned and looked toward the big Toran riding alongside K’xarr.

  “Now his friend Cromwell there, would you care to have him for an enemy? He would hunt a man to the ends of the earth, if he felt it must be done for his honor’s sake. Fear does not live in him, Vandarus. He would follow you to the very gates of Hell, if he counted you a friend.”

  Vandarus looked behind him to where Kian rode alone. “What about the half-breed?”

  “Kian is the most dangerous of all and not just because he is skillful with a blade. He would die for a cause large or small with no regret if he thought that cause just, but that’s not what makes him dangerous. The lethal fact is he would kill just as quickly for that cause. You saw him in the village, he killed the captain without hesitation or regret, because he felt it was the right thing to do. I’m glad he is a man of a good nature because he is truly a killer, Vandarus. Death will follow all three of them. Never forget that, my young friend.”

  “I won’t, but if you feel like they are such dangerous men, why not just ride away?”

  Rufio tilted his head and looked at his friend. “I seek glory, Vandarus, and it's men like them that can lead me to it.” Rufio galloped ahead, leaving Vandarus behind grinning.

  “It’s getting dark. We should eat and let the horses rest for the night,” K’xarr said.

  The air was a bit warmed now that summer was near at hand in the lands this far south. They found a stand of trees and fixed their dinner there. Rufio and Vandarus had somehow found six freshly killed chickens on their scouting trip.

  Kian knew they had stolen them, but he had not had chicken in a long while, and he didn’t mind a little stealing to eat.

  He and Tavantis had done some stealing back in Thieves Port when they had been short of food, but their mother had not liked it at all. Any time she found out, Kia had made them give back whatever they had stolen.

  Kian missed his brother. He had asked some of the people they passed on the road that would trouble themselves to speak to him if anyone had seen any elven travelers, but no one had. Many said they had never even seen an elf before. Disheartening as it was, he would not give up. He would keep looking no matter how long it took to find them.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Kian looked up to see K’xarr standing above him. “I was thinking about home.”

  “Your home is on the back of that horse now, just like the rest of us.”

  Kian stood and brushed the grass from his breeches. “I know what you’re saying and I know it’s not likely that I will find my family, but I’m not ready to give up on them yet.”

  K’xarr shook his head. “You might as well get used to the fact the world is cruel and unfair. No one cares about your family. The fact is you’re a half-elf. You should know by now no one is going to help you. There are people that would not tell you if they had seen your mother and brother even if they had. I’m not telling you to give up, I’m just saying don’t count on other people to help. There are very few people in this world you can count on and even fewer you can trust.”

  “Thank you for your opinion, but I don’t think everyone is as unkind as you think, some of us can be trusted.” Kian turned and walked away.

  “I can trust you to get me into trouble, half-breed, that is what I can trust in.”

  The half-elf’s optimism irritated the hell out of K’xarr and he didn’t know why.

  Cromwell joined K’xarr. The Toran was still eating the half-cooked chicken Vandarus had roasted.

  “What’s his problem?” K’xarr said.

  “He misses his family and worries about them. You should not give him so much trouble for it just because you don’t have one.”

  “Cromwell, what would you know about family? Yours cast you out because of the color of your blood.”

  “You are right, my friend, I know nothing about family and I most likely never will. There is one thing I do know: Kian is right. He is someone you can trust, he will not betray you, K’xarr, and I know that is what you fear about everyone you meet. The half-elf is different, he is a man of honor.”

  “I fear nothing, my friend, and I have learned that if you don’t trust anyone, you’re never betrayed.”

  Cromwell licked the chicken from his fingers and threw the carcass into the dark. “A hard way to be, my friend. With no trust, you will always be alone. Even you had family once, didn’t you trust them?”

&n
bsp; “I did and they tried to kill me, that’s what you get for trusting,” K’xarr said, his voice rising.

  Cromwell put his big hand on his friend's shoulder. “You trust me.”

  “You’re too dumb to be a traitor,” K’xarr said without looking at the Toran.

  The young warrior looked back towards where the others sat around the fire talking and lowered his voice. “You’re right, though, I should ease up on him. I just wish Kian would understand his family is lost and start thinking about what we’re going to do about making some coin.”

  “He will be ready when the time comes, K’xarr, trust me.”

  “I hope you’re right; he has a good sword arm. It will be a benefit if we ever find a band that doesn’t hate half-breeds.”

  “Never fear, my friend, we will find our place, you just wait and see. Now let’s see if Vandarus has any more chicken.”

  Kian had walked alone for a while. He felt good with the night wrapped around him. He knew he had grown melancholy the last few days, too much time to think while he rode. With each new land he saw, he wished his mother and brother were there to see it with him. He could not help but be concerned about them. K’xarr just didn’t understand that. He knew K’xarr was a hard man and Kian respected him for it, but nothing was going to stop him from finding out what happened to his family.

  Kian looked up toward the east and thought he could see another camp fire in the distance. It was hard to tell how far away it was, the night was so dark. He was trying to judge the distance when a child’s scream pierced the night.

  Kian sprinted back to where they had picketed the horses. “Did you hear that?” Kian yelled, jumping astride his horse.

  K’xarr stood up from where the men sat talking. “It was coyotes or a wolf, you should get off that horse right now. Don’t go looking for trouble, Kian. Kian! KIAN! Son of a bitching half-breed,” K’xarr said as Kian galloped out of the camp.

  “Damn it all to Hell, here we go again. Get the horses,” K’xarr spat.

  The rest of the men grabbed their weapons and they followed Kian into the night.

  Kian thundered toward the fire he had seen in the distance without thought about the safety of himself or his horse. He didn’t know if the others followed or not. It didn’t matter. He knew he had heard a child, it was no coyote. He saw a line of trees in the moonlight. The fire was just inside the trees, and he could smell the smoke now.

  As Kian closed in, he could make out shadows moving in and out of the trees. He pulled the horse to a stop and slid out of the saddle, hitting the ground running. When he got close enough to see, he stopped to take in the scene. A tall woman was fighting three men in white robes and chainmail. The three were pressing her hard. He saw that two more of the men lay dead near the fire.

  The woman’s sword was a blur striking left and right. She held the men at bay for the moment, but she was unarmored, fighting in only her underclothing and riding boots. She would not last long against the three armored men.

  Kian did not hesitate; he attacked the robed men instinctively. He yelled out, not wanting to attack the men from behind. All three looked and it cost one of them his life. When he glanced at Kian, the woman delivered a backhand blow to the side of her opponent’s head, killing him instantly.

  One of the robed men turned to take on Kian, while the other stayed on the woman. Kian could tell the man was good and well trained, but he had not been train by the greatest elven swordsman of the age.

  Kian blocked an overhand strike, turned his wrist, and buried his blade in the man’s neck. He looked over to find the woman had already killed her remaining attacker.

  Kian had a better chance to see her now. Waves of black hair wet with sweat hung in her face and fell well past her shoulders. The woman’s eyes were as dark as her hair. She stood staring at him, broad shouldered with a body that was hard and lean. Her face looked like it belonged to a blood-splattered angel. Kian had never seen anything or anyone so beautiful in all his life.

  “Were you stuck in the head or have you never seen a woman before?”

  Kian realized he was staring at the half-naked woman’s ample breasts. He could feel his face heat up with embarrassment and was glad it was dark.

  “I heard a scream and came to see if you needed help.”

  The woman walked over and picked up a cape off the ground that appeared to be made from some kind of animal hide, tying it around her neck. “As you can see, I didn’t need any help, but I thank you for the thought.”

  Kian heard horses coming, and knew it was K’xarr and the others. The woman heard it too and stepped into a fighting stance.

  “They are friends; you don’t have to worry.” The woman didn’t move. She looked ready to fight again. His companions charged through the brush into the light of the fire.

  “Kian, what the hell have you done now? I… What do we have here?” K’xarr lowered his sword, eyes drinking up the woman like a man dying of thirst.

  “These robed men were attacking her when I got here. I dealt with one of them, she killed the rest. K’xarr, did you hear me?”

  “Yes, yes, she was attacked. Looking at her, I understand why. My question is what she’s doing out here all alone. What does she look like to you, Cromwell?”

  The big man walked around the side of the woman then back. “I would say she was a goddess of war, if it weren’t for that mammoth hide cape. Only the hunters of Sorrack wear such a garment. She is either from there or she stole that cape from a Sorrackan.”

  “Where is Sorrack?” Kian asked.

  Cromwell’s eyes narrowed. “It lies to the north and east of Camir, K’xarr’s home, deep into the Harsh Coast. It’s a frozen waste; only crazy tribes of hunters live there, killing the local great beasts in order to survive. It’s an ice-covered shit hole. Is that where you come from, woman?”

  The woman did not move, but her eyes scanned the entire group, gauging each one. Kian could see the muscles in her smooth legs ready to spring in any direction at a moment’s notice.

  Rufio was kneeling down to look at one of the dead men. “K’xarr, you’re not going to like this.”

  K’xarr moved over to Rufio without taking his eyes off the woman. “What is it?”

  Rufio rolled the dead man over on his back and pointed to the symbol on the dead man’s robe; it was of an open hand.

  “He is a Hand of God, K’xarr, a warrior priest.”

  Vandarus spit on the ground. “More like an assassin priest. They kill people for the Church, people I have known. They are only sent out of Tyro for very special missions and their missions always involve murder. The Church must be hunting this woman and it's death to hinder or harm a Hand of God.”

  K’xarr looked at Kian. “How many did you say you killed?”

  “He killed but one,” the woman said. “Go now. I will tell no one that he helped me, you have my word.”

  K’xarr closed one eye and looked at the woman. “I bet you stole something from the Church, and it must be very precious for them to sic their dogs on you. Am I right, woman? If you are from Sorrack, you know my people. Camirians have no problem killing women.”

  The woman began to shift back and forth on her feet. “Just go. I have nothing of value.”

  K’xarr continued, “It must be nearby. You’re in a very big hurry to have us leave.”

  The woman glanced behind her and K’xarr slowly smiled. “Just hand it over and there will be no trouble. Even as dirty as you are, you are a true beauty. It would be a shame to have to take your treasure from you by force and spoil your looks.”

  Before anyone could move, the woman attacked, her blade striking out at K’xarr like a serpent. Kian started to intercede, but Cromwell held him back. “I want to see this. K’xarr was bluffing about killing her, but I don’t think she understood it was a bluff.”

  K’xarr blocked blow after blow, doing his best to look like the woman was no match for him, but Kian began to worry. The woman was good, very g
ood.

  She drove the Camiran back step by step until they were right next to the fire. K’xarr stomped down on a burning branch sticking out of the blaze sending embers into the woman’s face.

  The distraction was all he needed. He beat her blade aside and slashed her forearm.

  The woman dropped her sword and K’xarr sent an elbow into her jaw, knocking her to the ground. Kian didn’t like it, but the woman had attacked first.

  “Not the best swordsmanship I have ever seen, but you’re one of the best dirty fighters I have ever known, my friend,” Cromwell called out.

  K’xarr smiled and put his blade back in its scabbard. “Now, woman, show us the treasure or whatever it is you have. There’s no need for any more bloodshed.”

  Three children burst from the bushes behind the woman, screaming like banshees. There was two boys and a girl, none looked more than five or six years old.

  K’xarr was so shocked, he took a step back and tripped over his feet. The three wild children jumped on him and began to bite and kick as hard as they could.

  “Back, children, run. Run into the dark,” the woman cried out, but it was too late, the group of men had grabbed the little ones off K’xarr and held them back like a pack of small, angry dogs.

  The woman reached for her sword, but Kian stepped on it. “We don’t mean you or your children any harm, trust me.”

  The woman looked angrily up at Kian. By the look in her dark eyes, he didn’t believe she would ever surrender.

  “Put the children down. They are frightened.” Kian motioned to the others and they lowered the children slowly to the ground.

  The children ran to the woman; they looked at the men and growled. The little girl stuck her tongue out at K’xarr.

  “See, we mean you no harm. Calm down and we can talk.” Kian offered his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her up to her feet. She clutched her wounded forearm to her chest. Kian saw she was in pain. “Let me see it, we have a healer and...”

  Kian’s eyes went wide with surprise. “K’xarr, look.” They all gazed at the beautiful woman’s arm and the black blood seeping through her fingers.