Warrior's Call (Dreamtide Book 2)

by Azalea Moone

  Sawyer gazed down at him, twigs in hand, tending to the crackling fire. “Good morning.”

  “Morning?” Kohaku sat up, stretching his legs out, his belt clanking, loosened at the waist. “What the hell happened?”

  He remembered setting up a camp alongside the road last night after a callous day of searching for an agate stone. The road was all but quiet; sometime in the night, it’d sounded as if an army had rushed by. Then a strange sound of a flute, and the shadows that drew in on him...

  “You don’t remember?” Sawyer said. “I found you dancing at the druids’ celebration. Were you seduced by them?”

  “N-no...” Kohaku furrowed his brow. Trying to jog his memory, he caught the vision of the late-night forest dotted in beautiful yellow lights, and the lighthearted tune of the flute echoing in his ears. “I don’t think I was. It’s hard to remember any of it, really?” He stood and dusted off his pants.

  “You danced so beautifully,” Sawyer whispered. “You really don’t remember it?” Sawyer was on his feet now, gliding toward Kohaku with swagger in his hips. “It was wonderful. I never knew you could dance like that.”

  “I, apparently, didn’t either.” If only Kohaku could remember. They must’ve drowned in each other’s passions last night. Danced to the melodic flute, kissed under the moonlight, and then made love by the fireside. Kohaku’s stomach fluttered just thinking about what had happened, but the excitement waned when he tried to remember any more and came up empty. “Did you—”

  Sawyer wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in close. “Please, don’t worry about it. We can talk about it some other time. What I want to know now is, why didn’t you return to Raifut?”

  “I searched every mine down the road, but came up empty-handed.”

  “Did you have any trouble?” The smile on Sawyer’s lips faded.

  “Nothing much. There were some bandits, but I dare not step foot near them.”

  “And it took all day?”

  “There are many caves along the southern border. Before I knew it, t’was getting late—Never mind that, why are you here?” Kohaku tipped his head. “Weren’t you supposed to inspect passing cargo ships?”

  “I did that.”

  “And?”

  “I arrested a ship carrying Sur’ive.”

  “Sur...” Kohaku attempted to repeat the strange word.

  “It’s the name of the concoction coming up from Qeoca.”

  “I see. But why are you here and not in Raifut?”

  Sawyer sighed. His grip around Kohaku’s waist loosened. “You know, raiding every ship that comes through won’t stop this. We have to go straight to the source. Fithel thinks he knows exactly where it’s coming from.”

  “Fithel? But I thought he was off on a mission?”

  Sawyer nodded and pulled away to gather his bags. “He is. I met him the night before in Raifut. He offered us to come along with him, but I explicitly said I wanted to complete this mission.”

  “And now you want to join him?”

  Sawyer met his curious stare. There wasn’t much Kohaku knew of their past relationship, only that they were once commander and lieutenant, and partners. Fithel had admitted it to him once, but nothing else was ever said in the month Kohaku stayed at the castle. Fithel was gone most of those days, and when he was there, he’d hardly spoken a word about anything.

  “I’m considering it,” Sawyer answered. “But I don’t think—”

  “Why not?” Kohaku let out a chuckle as he secured his belt back around his waist. “I don’t mind, Sawyer. If you think it would be best to stop whoever’s involved.”

  “But Fithel—”

  “What about Fithel?” Kohaku glanced around at their surroundings, spotting his horse tied to a nearby tree. “I know you once had a relationship, whatever it was, but I’m not envious of you wanting to be by his side as you once were in battle.”

  Sawyer trickled water on the remains of the burning ash, then stomped it out with his boot. Brushing a hand through his hair, he wrinkled his brow. “Are you sure?”

  “Maybe I’ll continue to search for the stone while you’re gon—”

  “You could come with me,” Sawyer said, the admission almost rocking Kohaku. He had hoped Sawyer would invite him, but didn’t want to press the issue. “If you’d like, that is. I know there is a better cavern structure closer to the mouth of the Wyst and the sea, called Frehs Hollow. We’ll be traveling down to Jinchou anyway, it’s not but a few hours ride from there.”

  “Are you sure? What if Fithel doesn’t grant me to stay?”

  “Why wouldn’t he? You’re just as capable a warrior as anyone. I think he’d be rather pleased, especially if we’re in for a battle.” Sawyer’s lips widened into a grin. He loved the thought of battle, Kohaku knew this all too well. Of course, castle life would be such a bore to him, too.

  “Very well, then.” Kohaku sought his horse. Luckily his pack was still there with his canteen and pouches of berries he’d gathered from the forest the day before. “We should eat first.”

  “There’s a village just south from here. I’d much rather a drumstick of meat than a handful of your berries this morning.”

  Kohaku let a smile loose—that was the Sawyer he knew. He saddled his horse and rode beside Sawyer, out of the opening of the forest and back onto the road. Curiosity struck, and he glanced around for any sign of the druids and the sparkling lights he remembered from the night before.

  Nothing in particular stood out. Nor did he hear the soothing melody of the flute. The trees were ordinary, branches jutting out of dark trunks, and leaves trembling with the cool morning breeze.

  He’d wondered if it all was just a dream. “So the druids...” Kohaku still couldn’t remember anything of them. “What were they like?”

  A moment of silence made Kohaku question if Sawyer wanted to speak of the event at all. “Strange. The trees were dancing.” Sawyer glanced around the forest, and Kohaku wished he could’ve seen the emotion on his face just then. “There was a... Satyr playing the flute.” Sawyer let out a chuckle. “Really, I always thought such creatures were nothing but a kid’s fairytale.”

  Thinking back to childhood, Kohaku had never even heard about anything like druids and Satyrs. He wished he could remember last night’s events. He’d love to recall such happenings for the rest of his life. Instead, he left it as it was—a dream.

  The land at Qeoca’s border wasn’t much different from Anscien’s, except there was no snow on the ground, yet and the trees were still bustling with red and orange autumn colors.

  Enjoying the view, Kohaku took in the mass of forest trees gently raining down dead leaves. On the road, it was as if someone had blown a reddish carpet underneath the horses’ hooves—crunch, crunch. Birds sat upon tree branches, singing their morning songs, and a rustle in the bushes nearby exposed a squirrel’s bushy tail as he rummaged for food.

  It would grow cold soon, considering the snow already in Anscien, and the small animals would prepare for hibernation.

  Then he realized; he’d never stepped foot across the border. A warm tingle ran through Kohaku’s core. This was Qeoca, his mother’s homeland. And so beautiful, so distant, and yet the same. It was perfect. He wondered why his family hadn’t built their cottage here, but then his father was from Anscien. Perhaps it was his idea to stay there.

  Around a bend in the road, a billowing line of smoke in the blue sky ahead caught Kohaku’s attention.

  “There it is,” Sawyer said with a nod at the village. “Kusu.”

  Thatch roofs and small cottages made up the village; at first, it didn’t look much different from any usual village back home. He rode past a woman carrying a linen basket, donned in a simple white gown and apron, with her hair in a bun at the back of her head pinned with glistening clips adorned with tiny flowers. Her child strode by her side, playfully whacking at the diamond-shaped columns in the trellis next to her.

  On the opposite side of the fence
, a litter of young swine lazily bathed in a pool of mud.

  “It’s not too different,” Kohaku said, unsure of what he should expect of the country. They weren’t too far from the border; he could only imagine this was like a crossroads, perhaps, where both cultures met in the middle.

  “Not really. Except for one thing,” Sawyer said. He rode ahead, leading them to a stable near an outer field where three other horses neighed. “The tavern’s biscuit pies.”

  “What is a biscuit pie?” Kohaku wondered as he reined in his horse beside Sawyer’s.

  He stared out at the row of buildings and houses on the side of the trail. Flags hung above the doors, flapping in the slight breeze, signaling which door was which. One he could tell was a merchant by its dully painted pictures of tools. The next, a pub from the painting of a mug. The others, he wasn’t too sure of, possibly a healer, a teller, or some other infirmary of sorts.

  Sawyer strode up to the tavern. “You’ll see.”

  As he opened the door, the scent of fresh braised meat and roasted vegetables floated toward Kohaku’s nostrils. His mouth watered, and he ran his tongue across his lips. Several patrons sat at tables scattered across the inside of the tavern with heaping plates of food in front of them.

  They weaved through the crowd, Kohaku took in the appeasing smells around him and his stomach reacted with a hungry growl. He couldn’t wait to have a bit of food in his mouth, settling his curiosity and appetite.

  At the bar, Sawyer put in his order, “Two biscuit pies.” And the waitress quickly dashed into the back to bring out two steaming plates piled with food for each of them.

  Kohaku eyed the stack of biscuits with roasted meat and potato between them and a smothering of brown gravy atop that pooled on the sides of the main course. There was no sense in using daintiness as he’d tried in the castle; he snatched up a piece of meat between his fingers and popped it in his mouth with an “Mmmm.”

  “Good, right?” Sawyer smiled, motioning his fork to Kohaku’s plate of food.

  “Mmm, ‘eah.” Kohaku hummed, mouth full, then took another bite.

  People chattered around them, the door squeaked open and closed, so much excitement and yet, all Kohaku focused on was the food. It’s delicious taste, and smell, and the way it settled his hunger. He was already more than halfway through when Sawyer ordered two drinks that arrived in small, rounded clay cups.

  “What is this?” He picked up the cup, examining its decorated sides—of stars and diamond shapes like on the trellis next to the farm outside.

  “It’s tea,” Sawyer said, tipping his bowl slowly to his lips. “Haven’t you ever had tea?”

  Kohaku nodded. “My mom used to make it.” He took a sip, his tongue immediately alight with a cool, fresh flavor. “But not like this,” he said excitedly, tasting more.

  “It’s mint.” Sawyer smiled. “They have a lot of distinct flavors. Maybe you’d like to try those while we’re here, too.”

  “Can I?” Kohaku asked excitedly. It was wonderful to have such chilly taste on his tongue, exhilarating.

  A loud banging of the door and a sudden rise of laughter drowned out Sawyer’s reply. Just as Kohaku would turn around, a thunderous voice came from behind.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Kohaku turned to spot a man dressed in a familiar turncoat, with the insignia of Anscien printed across his chest. He took off his helmet, revealing a stocky face with a scraggly beard. “Sawyer!”

  “Ah, pleasant sight...” Sawyer paused a moment.

  “Et’os, remember?” The man slapped Sawyer on the back with his bulky hand. “It’s been two years, so maybe you don’t remember.”

  “Yes, right. Et’os,” Sawyer’s voice waned. “You should be with Fithel’s troop.”

  Et’os shook his head, loose black strands invading his eyes. “We’re stationed here in Kusu while Fithel took the rest of the troop further south. Wait,” he pursed his lips. “Shouldn’t you be with them?”

  “I no longer serve as lieutenant.” Sawyer nodded. “But we are looking to join in this investigation. Tell me what you’ve learned.”

  “Not much, sir. This substance called suir’ive comes in from the Wyst most likely from Jinchun.” Et’os scooted into a seat next to Sawyer. “We haven’t found if the perpetrator is a group or a single entity, though. That’s why Fithel has left a few men in charge of each village along the western road. We have two days to investigate anything, then we ride back to Jinchun to meet him there.”

  “And have you found anything of interest here?”

  Et’os ran a hand through his long, black beard. “There was talk of a small cat house that caters to suir on the edge of the village, but we’ve investigated already.”

  “Find anything?” Sawyer asked, impatiently.

  Et’os returned a smile. “Not what you would think, sir. No, the building was empty when we arrived. They had stripped even the drapes.”

  Sawyer grumbled. He raised a brow at Kohaku, and Kohaku knew they wouldn’t get anywhere like this. Sawyer picked at his food again, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork and popping it in his mouth.

  “That’s pretty good there, huh?” Et’os laughed. “I could live here forever just to eat more of their biscuit pie.”

  “It’s great,” Sawyer said, mouthful. After swallowing, he glanced back at Et’os. “Thank you for the information.”

  “So you’re really out here looking to join up with the troops? Any thought of retaining your position as lieutenant?” Et’os whispered.

  “Not a one. Now if you let me be, I’d like to continue my supper.”

  Et’os’ smile faltered. He picked himself up, and Kohaku met his curious look briefly. “Well, I care little for the new second in command. You’ll always be lieutenant in my eyes, sir, and you have my full support shall you reclaim your former position.”

  Sawyer nodded but kept silent as Et’os strutted away.

  Once the guard was far enough, Kohaku said, “That’s was quite rude, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh yes, damn him for interrupting our meal.”

  “No, I was talking about you.”

  “Me?” Sawyer glared at him crossly. “What did I do?”

  “You could have been a little more friendly. It seems you were admired as second in command in the royal army. Those men must’ve looked up to you, right?”

  Sawyer’s lips drew into a fine line. He lowered his head. “Suppose so.”

  “I know you’re just a hunter now, but you’ve made a name for yourself, remember that.” Kohaku focused on his food. If only Sawyer would loosen up a little more around his fellow troops; he couldn’t imagine how harsh Sawyer might have been when he was the lieutenant. “We should probably hurry and get to Fithel, right?”

  “Suppose we should.” Sawyer cupped his bowl between his hands and took a sip. Right. Having another drink of the chilly flavored tea would help put Kohaku’s mind at ease for the moment.

  Just south of the village, a span of trees dotted the ever-changing land, and soon they came out of the forest. The road swooped up and down hills. At the highest peak, Sawyer took in the whole expanse of Qeoca’s beauty. It’d been too long since the last time he’d traveled across the border with Fithel and the army. He’d almost forgotten just how breathtaking the landscape was—the green expanse of bean crops and farmsteads went on for miles. Down in the valleys, farm-hands branding enormous brim hats worked to harvest and weed their beans, while the owners watched their progress from porch steps.

  The homes differed from the typical hutches common in Anscien. These farmsteads were built sturdy enough to beat the terrible storms that often raged through, with shingled V-shaped roofs and paneling made of a hard, strong redwood gathered from the forest. Other houses were tan or green and made of resistant bamboo.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Kohaku gasped beside him. “Is the rest of Qeoca this beautiful?”

  “Mostly,” Sawyer said as they continued down the south
ern road.

  The contrast between the setting sun and the green scape made for an almost perfect serene moment together. He’d debated on stopping and stealing a kiss from Kohaku before moving on, but as they rounded another hill, he spotted the familiar white Anscien flags hanging high from the troop in the distance. They were marching towards the next village ahead.

  “There is one place I think you would enjoy.”

  “What is it?”

  “A bamboo forest. Imagine the tallest, greenest trees you’ve ever seen, but they’re not trees at all.”

  Kohaku hummed. “Sounds lovely.”

  With a nod, Sawyer continued, “You would definitely stand out with your red hair.” And red kimono. The thought made Sawyer twitch. It’d been months now since Kohaku donned his fabulous kimono; he never told why he quit wearing it.

  “Is that Fithel in the distance?” Kohaku pointed to the grouping of horses and flags. “We should catch up.”

  “Not yet.” Sawyer reined his horse to a stop. It was time to find out the truth. “I wanted to ask you something first.”

  Kohaku led his horse near Sawyer’s. “What is it?”

  “Your kimono. Why don’t you wear it?”

  Kohaku let out a faint chuckle. “I didn’t think I needed to anymore. Whether I’m at the castle, or in the forest, I’m still a dragon summoner whether or not I wear it.”

  “Yes, but it fits you. Everything about you.”

  Kohaku’s cheeks flushed. “Should I have brought it, then?”

  “No, it’s okay you didn’t. While we’re here, I’d like to buy you a new one. If you let me.” Sawyer leaned close, keeping his hands tight on the reins as not to lose grip, and brushed his lips against Kohaku’s quickly before pulling away and continuing his slow trot down the road. “A blue one.”

  “Blue?” Kohaku’s brow furrowed.

  “Do you want another red one?”

  Kohaku shook his head. “Light blue would be nice, I think.” He laughed again. “Do you know why my mother gave me a red one? She said it matched my hair.”

  “It does, you know.”