Amarain Dynasty chp's 3 and 4

Chapter Three
The mist of the morning had an eerie silence to it. It was as if all the life of the trees and flowers of spring had been whisked away, leaving nothing but the cruel heart of humanity in its wake. I stood in the doorway of the run down shack, overlooking the rolling prairies of the countryside. The ravages of war that the Syeleven have brought dare not touch this small span of peace. Though time has not been so kind, as the greedy hands of Man have shaped these hills to their benefit, yet the Syeleven could do much worse if they had the chance.
I stood in confusion and wonder as my heart yearned for the safety of these countrymen’s peace, for what awaited them was dark and stank of death. But there was nothing I could do. I was one person, one spirit in a web of millions, entangled towards the same fate. A fate that came in only the worst of nightmares, nightmares that children should not being dreaming of, yet so many of them do. They knew as well as the old: the end was coming.
A throbbing pulse remained nestled in the back of my neck; it had remained there for days now. The pulses seemed to beat faster and faster with each step east, as if I was a human compass pointing to some buried treasure. It was peculiar, as no cure could satisfy this ache. A vile and evil thing planted within me. But how? And why? I was not privy to such answers. Yet I will not let it get the best of me. Some things must be sacrificed, though I do not know why I am sacrificing my sanity, as it is waning with each draining pulse.
No, talking to myself about my sanity will not get me very far. Today was a new day, a good day for walking I suppose, as I have no horse. There is no point in getting another one as of yet. Indeed it will take me longer to get to the seaways, but it’ll be easier getting across without a horse. I will find one after I cross over into the east. I hear they have good horses over there; some that rival the best of the west, well I shall see about that.
A small round tray covered in a brown cloth lay at the foot of the door. The farmer must have been up earlier than the sun. Philanthians were well known for their kindness and hospitality. I had eaten a few slices of bread and cheese and stored the rest in my saddlebags for the coming days. In place of the food I rested two silver coins: one for the shack and the other for the food. A single copper would’ve been plenty to farmers, yet in these coming times the silvers will come in handy.
I finally stepped from the security of the shack to begin my journey east. It was a warm morning, thus I threw my coat atop my saddlebags that rested over my shoulder. Black was such a heat seeking colour not fit for the south, and made me wish I had the taste for lighter hues. Oh well, what is done, is done. I am not about to waste my money on clothing, as Velcor had me do so many years ago. He literally had to drag me by the ear and tie me to a chair in the tailor’s shop. Those thoughts made me smile as I only held a few happy moments in my life and even though I was forced to shop against my will, I had the pleasure of being extra stubborn for Velcor’s sake.
After studying the maps over breakfast, I had decided to take a route that held no roads. The prairies were relatively safe compared to forests where I would’ve chose to travel closer to the designated paths, but once I reach the desert there are no roads anyway. The constant wind carrying the sands made maintaining them far too difficult. Thus markers were placed every so often, though the markers do not help those who cannot find them. Many who go into the desert without a guide or a compass can be lost, forever meandering amidst the sand dunes.
Strolling through the fields I nodded to several farmers and their families working the lands. Occasionally I would stop and help for a while, as I was in no rush to meet a pressing engagement. They needed the assistance, and I felt that I needed to lend a hand. I took no payment for these deeds, except for a drink of water when my throat grew parched. Some farmers though, bade that I continued on rather than helped. Perhaps my reputation far more preceded me than I thought it had, as the Black Fox did nothing without payment, or equal trade in return. I wanted to confront those farmers, to prove myself a reformed person, but it was no use. My pleas would have fallen on deaf ears. Even I do not truly listen to my own voice.
So I continued on and met a winding road for a while, following it till it turned towards the north: the only direction that I did not wish to proceed in. No, I want to preserve my memories of Velcor as they are, not replace them with a changed man, and hurtful words that I knew would be present if I faced him. It pained me that I have gone to care too much. Attachments are good for nothing, except if one is wishing for pain and disappointment. When I first came here I could have cared less if I was accepted, well okay that is not entirely true. I wished to belong somewhere, however I really wanted nothing above aquaintences. Everything and everyone that I held dear has been destroyed . . .by me.
The farms grew farther apart, with wild seas of spring flowers in between. The fragrance filled the air all around me. It was a refreshing reminder of how nature can be so beautiful. City folk miss this year after year, ignorant of this overwhelming display of colour. It was the farthest one could get to the hard cold stone pillars and statues of long dead heroes, the stench of the filth that lined the streets, and the noise of chattering house wives, creaking wagons over the cobblestone alleys, and palace guards ordering obedience. There was no such chaos here, simple and natural order rested in the soil and growing towards the ever-shining sun.
Speaking of the sun, the afternoon had grown to be very hot. I had to stop several times to catch my breath and ring out my clothes soaked in sweat. Nature has rule over my body; I was worthless compared to the flowers that lay around me. They flourished in this heat, yet this was my downfall. It would be best to travel at night. Now there was a thought, which surprised me that it had not come sooner. Thus I walked a little longer till I found a lone tree to shelter me from the relentless sun. I threw down my saddlebags and made a make shift pillow out of my jacket. It was not much, but it’ll do for now. I titled my hat over my eyes and slowly drifted asleep.
I awoke to my stomach grumbling for food. I lifted my hat to see that night had blanketed the prairies. The stars were sparkling, though the beauty of the night rested in the glory of the moon. It gave a brilliant glow to the sleeping flowers. I was always in awe of the moon, her silver beauty against the black of the night was much more soothing than the ruthless sun, who held precedence over the day. So many missed this beauty, worshipping the sun instead.
Over the course of my journey, I have always felt that the moon has always guided me in some way. When clouds covered her I was saddened, though I could still feel her presence, which gave me strength to endure my tasks. She gave me strength now. Her light radiated my path ahead, and I knew I would be safe this night. I reached in my saddlebags and took out some bread and cheese that the farmer had given me. I ate a small portion, just enough to fill the tiny void in my stomach. Then I gathered my things and continued on. The cool air was a joy, and made traveling much quicker as I stopped to rest less than I had during the day.
Walking for hours on end became more than just tiring on the legs, but the mind as well. To keep myself occupied melodies seeped through my memories, singing only the notes of the tunes as I could not recall the words, nor where I knew them. Some brought a smile to my face, others welled tears, which unnerved me. One almost brought me to my knees, in which I stopped in fear I would lose all control of my emotions. Thus for the moments succeeding, I ceased to sing, and returned all focus to the dulling task of trudging along.
The terrain became steeper though flowers still persisted up the hillsides. Rock surfaces protruded through the grass, forming the base of a low mountain range. Though it was too low to be noted on the maps that I had. Yet it still provided a good workout for the muscles.
Atop one of the mountains, which technically could be called a big hill, the moonlight bounced around from one hilltop to another creating a magical sight. It was eerie and lonely, a feeling that could be held only at the edge of the world. Yet this was no such location. I had some twisted admiration for it; perhaps it was due to the fact this melancholy scene mirrored my own reflection so well. Chills ran through my spine as mist began to form in the valleys. A sea of mist enveloped me, and I could see no more.
I stood there for moments on end. I dare not walk in the mist, for one does not know what evil lie in its wake. Silent like the hills; the only movement was my jacket caught in the breeze. It was hard for me not to panic – falling into such depths was not appealing at the least. I titled my head towards the sky. The last few stars sparkled ever so innocently before the sea too covered them for the rest of the night.
The mist began to fade over the horizon with the coming of dawn. The blood red sun broke through all barriers that the night had given into. I had remained standing, my legs stiff and rigid, locked in this position. A few birds sprang up from one of the valleys contributing to the announcement of day. Life began to wake, flowers opened to soak in the nourishment the sun routinely offers.
Suddenly a gust of wind rounded the top of the hill I was standing upon, causing me to break my stance and center myself. My breath grew labored, as the wind did not falter from its course. My jacket violently thrashed about pulling me from side to side. Just as quickly the wind ended, continuing down the hill and over the prairies I had crossed yesterday.
Today was not going to be like all the rest of the days. Things are about to happen, as no ordinary day announces itself in such a fashion as this. After standing all night, I was surprised to find a little more strength and energy left in me. I was not about to let it go to waste, thus I looked towards the valley below me, a path was clearly cut in the side of the hill. The birds continued their calling. More answered them. Silence was not the order of the day. I smiled and called back to the birds, they answered and welcomed my presence. I will not be alone today.


Chapter Four
“You bloody little Sand Skipper!” Tomas yelled out across the courtyard.
He looked down at his right leg and found an arrow pierced right through it, blood soaking his black trousers. Breaking off the head of the arrow, he groaned from the pain. Holding his breath he pulled out the arrow and threw it to the side.
Tomas cursed again under his breath, he was going to hang the person who missed the target by shooting too high, then he was going to move the officer’s training ring that currently rested in the next courtyard. But suddenly he felt a presence that was not one of his officers, smiling he looked over his shoulder.
“I got you uncle!” A boy cheered from the second floor balcony, a bow held in his left hand held above his head.
Tomas had to laugh, indeed his nephew had gotten him this time, “But your aim is a little off my lad.”
They had been playing a game for years now, his nephew laying traps for him as tests to make sure he’s aware of his surroundings. There was a never dull moment as Tomas had just as much fun dismantling and foiling the boy’s little ambushes.
Though the fun was over for now as Tomas switched his attention back to his leg. He reached for a pouch he had tied on his belt and spilt the contents over the wounds left by the arrow. Then he stood still, waiting for the Power to come to him, he felt its presence sleeping in the back of his mind. He awoke it, grabbed it and let it flow through the rest of him. Tiny bolts of lightening came from his fingers, hitting his leg. Slowly the wounds began to close, and all that was left was dried blood and two holes in his new pants.
Tomas wheeled around on his heels, the Power still flowing, he outstretched his hand and enveloped the boy in a bubble of air. The boy was fearless; he only smiled at his situation, as he knew he had nothing to be afraid of. Tomas lifted him from the balcony and landed him on the flagstone courtyard before releasing the bubble.
“Now, tell me how you snuck up behind me?” Tomas called out, finally letting go of the Power, he was curious to know why he had not felt his nephew’s presence.
He stared at the boy, his blond hair falling into his cold blue eyes. His clothes looked slept in, full of wrinkles, as if he camped up there all night. He was musing over an answer, as he kept shifting his weight and playing with the string on the bow.
“C’mon Lad!” Tomas chided the boy, “Let’s have it!”
“Well uncle, I don’t really know how to explain it.” He began, his voice high, as it has not begun to change yet, “ I simply get the Power and wrap myself with air.”
Tomas crossed his arms and pondered over the matter. Others that have the ability to cloak themselves are still unable to disappear completely, to cover their spiritual residue as he could. He titled his head and examined his nephew; he had a few pieces of the power, yet he is not destined to become a Dagon. Yet the Power works is a very mysterious manner, this boy is a thread not accounted for, a tool that can become very useful if maintained properly.
Tomas smiled, “Very well, lets go in for some food eh?” He held out his arm waving his hand, motioning his nephew to join him.
The boy’s eyes lit up with excitement, hastily dropping the bow, he joined his uncle. Tomas put his arm around him and asked, “Have you heard the tale of Adonis and his sister’s betrayal?”
He led the boy through the courtyard and through an archway leading to one of the main halls of the palace. He looked up partially confused, “Is that one in the scriptures? I don’t think I have uncle.”
Tomas laughed, “It should be, this world would be much different if it was.”
* * *
It took three days by foot to find myself on the other side of the rolling hills. The days were getting hotter as I journeyed closer to the desert, thus I slept through the heat and made my way under the shelter of the night. The mist did not return as the hot desert air stole all the moisture out of the night’s breath, drying the grasses to light greens and yellows. A few flowers remained, ones of pinks and yellows were scattered down this last hillside.
The sun was slowly setting behind me, painting a wonderful array of oranges and violets. The night was silently waiting over the desert. I sat upon a rock that jetted up from the hillside. I held the last of the bread in my hand. I will have to get more food and water before I venture into the lifeless desert that lay ahead of me. My map shows a small stream somewhere close by; that is my task of tonight.
My boots are in need of repair, though I lack the skill and materials to fix them. Soon, my feet will pop through the soles, and then walking will become much more tedious than before. I jumped off the rock with my things crammed under my arms. I landed with a thud, losing my balance I rolled down the rest of the hill. My swords bounced from rock to rock and occasionally hitting my head. Coming out at the bottom I flattened letting go of everything. I lay there for a while watching the sky shift from the rays of violets to the deep blues, then finally to black.
I was prone to lie there forever, but once the morning came I would have the buzzards prying me apart thinking I was dead. No, I had to get moving, as I had a lot of ground to cover. I rolled over and pushed myself up on my knees. My saddlebags were more than three arms from where I rested, thus it gave me a slight edge to get up. I picked up my jacket that happened to land beside me, and pushed on one knee for support as I stood up. My bones are not so young as they used to be. Though I am not so old either, yet the ware and tear that tournaments and smuggling had brought was not so kind.
I trudged over to my saddlebags and picked them up, throwing them over my shoulder once again, as it has all become a routine, which required no thought. I am starting to rethink the whole not buying a horse scheme. Yet it was just a waste of money, and I do not like wasting money. It always bothered me how Velcor could waste so much of his money in gambling. I was brought in so he won it back and gained more instead of losing it all. So many people went broke before my eyes, them begging me for mercy. It was their own fault, holding no sympathy for them, only pity.
When I gambled it was only because I knew that I could win, or that it was fixed and I was already going to win. I had many come to me testing their luck against mine, fully unaware that I was going to cheat them out of all the money they had in their pockets, and when they got desperate and try again, I would take more. I ended up with a few palaces and ranches, even a title of lordship. I remember that man’s face the most out of all of them. He lost his nobility; he crushed the name of his ancestors over a bloody card game. And that was a lesson to him, he was a crooked and greedy man, so I took everything of his, and made sure he no longer lived a life of luxury.
When I was leaving one night to attend some business across the border, I saw him outside the city gates. He lived in a shack; his wife no doubt had left him. But the thing, I remember the most about him were his eyes. They were not cold and hard, but soft and vulnerable. It saddened me that this man’s greed made him happy, and was now left an empty shell of a human being. He had nothing left to live for, and he told me that as he chased after me. He pleaded with me, wishing me to take one more thing: his life. I could not. The man was not worth my action. Yet he pestered me, drove up my nerves. And then he won. He got was he wished: death. A tear escaped from my eye and fell down my cheek. I wiped it away with the back of my sleeve, hoping it was the only one to fall. I will not spend another moment upon that man’s death, as he was a selfish bastard who I fell pray to in the end. I should have let him live to fully experience the pain he brought down upon himself.
In the distance I saw lights flicker, perhaps from lanterns. As I drew closer I saw that it was a camp. Not knowing if the camp held friend or foe, I quickly took shelter behind a small distressed looking shrub, if it did happen to be foes, such as the Syeleven, accompanying my lonely presence out here. It was a pitiful screen; one that could get me easily discovered if someone had the slightest notion of walking this way.
The moon was blanketed by sheets of clouds in the night sky providing no light to guide me by, thus I could only make out things that were near the lanterns. They were low-lying tents of white tarp, about twenty, I would say. I could not hear any banners flapping in the night wind, suggesting that these were desert folk of Lyneth, who travel from location to location depending on the conditions in the desert. They must be camping by the stream, gathering supplies before heading back into the desert, as I could hear the running water close by.
Though if I am mistaken and these are not the desert folk, then they the Tyrzres, which is another reason for the desert folk to keep moving, the Tyrzres are known to raid their camps. They are an annoying group of people. Different sects are spread throughout the mainland, though they are all the same raiding and pillaging people. Rumors have been going on for years that these people possess the same powers as the Ka’Tors, who reside in the temples.
I don’t understand why people consider Ka’Tors power any more good than that of the Syeleven. It is all from the same base, even though the Syeleven and that of the Jei too are much more powerful in it. I respect the Ka’Tors, for they uphold the religion, but they still possess that evil power.
These people here are not Tyrzres, I decided. I could see a man holding a lantern with a sword tied to his belt that rested over his pale knee-length robes. Tyrzres for some stupid reason do not carry weapons; they most likely believe that their powers will protect them. Though I have heard if they are approached a certain way their powers are useless, thus they can be easily defeated. I have not attempted this theory, as I have never come into intimate contact with them, only observed them from a distance.
No, I am safe here. I stood up from the bush and preceded forward hoping that I was right in my decision. My boots made no sound on the loose sandy soil, making my entrance dangerous if I happen to startle anyone. The man with the lantern turned away from me and started to walk back to the tents.
“Sir,” I called out, “Shelter and food I need.”
The man whipped around holding the lantern far out in front of him. His eyes squinted in the darkness; “Show yourself Sir,” his words slow from his accent.
I slowly stepped into the light holding my hands out to clearly show I held no weapon. He was at least twice my height and twice as round, even though I was a small twig of a thing, as Velcor always said, he was still a big man nonetheless. His hair was all in braids that were held together by a leather cord at the back of his neck. His skin was dark and weathered from the sun, which aged him well past his years. If I had to guess, he was perhaps only five or six years my senior, but with the sun he looked at least ten or fifteen years older.
The man stared down at me, “Little late for a young boy to be out without his mama?”
The desert folk were not as kind and generous as the Philanthians. I never had any intention of dealing with them in the smuggling, as they had no respect for anybody. I am still impressed that their nation is still intact as they usually fight amongst themselves.
“Good Sir,” I started again, “I ask for some food only, if you deny me shelter.”
The man laughed, “What will I get for the food you have taken, that we so badly need boy,” he waved the lantern in my face, “your muscles look too small to be of any use to me.”
I dropped my saddlebags and jacket and took out my moneybag from under my belt. I felt around inside before I spilled a silver coin into the palm of my hand.
“Will a silver do?” I asked holding it up to the light.
His eyes widened, he had probably never seen anything higher than a copper, for they are traders dealing with materials they need, they had no use for cold hard money unless they went into their capital city. He tried to take it from my hand, though I stepped to the side causing him to miss.
“You're a fast little bugger.” He grinned as he took out his sword.
“Forss!” A woman’s voice came from behind him, “I am sorry, my son is a pig. Please come.”
The woman came into the light her hand outstretched offering her hospitality. She was not too much older than Forss, though her hair half white was tucked into numerous braids like her son’s. Her face was also dark and weathered from the sun. She took me inside a tent, and I was left standing in the dark. Then light burst through a lantern she lit that hung from the top of the tent. She wore white robes with a light blue shawl that hung to the floor.
She motioned me to a pile of oversized pillows of varying colours. I sat down and took off my hat, resting it upon my things. She smiled at me and knelt over a small table that held bowls of various fruits and salted meats.
“Here,” she offered the entire table, “I will fix you some more if you like.”
“No this is plenty my good lady.” I bowed my head in thanks as one would normally tilt to a noble, as I had never come across any other desert folk of Lyneth with this much kindness – she had to be Philanthian by birth.
She blushed at the honor, and bowed her head in return, “I shall get you something to drink.”
She stood up and began to head for the opening of the tent, “water will suffice,” I called after her.
I sat forward reaching over the table, half of the fruits I could not recognize others I could gather as pears and apples that they must have traded for. I took a few and threw them into my saddlebags. Then I grabbled a salted pork rib, sat back and began gnawing away at the meat. This would give back some strength I had lost from only eating bread and cheese.
The interior of the tent was spacious yet drab the only colour present was in the pillows that lay scattered around the edge of the tent. Everything else was white, even the carpet that covered the sandy ground. The outside was deceiving, appearing smaller on the outside, I guessed, one could probably fit at least ten people in here comfortably.
The woman returned with a pitcher in one hand, and a silver goblet in the other. She knelt in front of the table and poured the clear liquid into the plain hand crafted goblet and handed it to me.
“Thank you,” I said bowing my head once more.
She only smiled in return, before standing back up and leaving the tent. She did not come back in after that. I sat back and stared at the lantern. Its ironwork was exquisite, I had seen one like it before, though I could not recall where. Then Forss entered the tent, his face held a red mark on the right side. The woman must have clubbed him one, which brought a smile to my face.
“You’ll be having my tent for the night,” He grumbled.
“Sir, the silver I promised you,” I took it from my pocket and tossed it up in the air.
He caught it, and bowed his head then exited the tent. I put the goblet on the table, then standing up I put out the lantern, blanketing the tent with the darkness of night. I rested amidst the pillows like I was queen of the world. I have only been up for a few hours at most, but my bones were weary and I welcomed the opportunity for rest. I began to yawn, and before I knew it, sleep cascading down the hills like mist enveloped me. All was darkness at last.