Farlands Prodigal (Ultimate Passage Book 5)

by Elle Thorne

  Voices made him pause. He recognized Cinia’s. She did not sound happy. Her tone gave him pause. Slowly and with stealth, he crept closer in order to assess the situation. Who could she possibly be talking to out here?

  A patrol of Asazi soldiers, perhaps?

  Probably not, they didn’t patrol this early in the morning, typically. At least, they hadn’t all the times he’d encountered them. Finally, he was able to see.

  Cinia’s back was to him. Qalen studied the male before her. The being was not Asazi. Nor was he Kormic. With dark grayish-black skin that gleamed and shone, large scales moving slowly, shuddering along the being’s face and neck. The scales were larger than Asazi scales, resembling armor more than skin. So very different than Qalen’s tiny Asazi scales.

  The being stepped closer to Cinia. Her spine stiffened, her back straight.

  Qalen braced, prepared to pounce if the stranger raised a hand to harm her. Qalen would not sit on the sidelines. He concentrated to listen in as the male was keeping his voice low. Cinia’s was not a yell, but her pitch was higher and conveyed her discomfort with the male before her.

  That was when Qalen heard the last two words of the being’s sentence.

  “…kill you.”

  Qalen needed nothing more than that to leap from the bushes, jarring Garth from his perch on his shoulder and sending the raptor flying toward a branch overhead.

  The man sidled back, startled, and raised his arms, flinging his cloak off, pulling a saber from a scabbard on his hip.

  At the same moment, behind him, a set of wings appeared, pushing outward, rising behind him. Black, thick, glossy, a hook at the top of each, in the center.

  Qalen froze.

  Those wings.

  They were identical to his own. In all his life, he’d never seen or heard of wings like his. It was a mystery that even his adoptive mother, who seemed to know so much, had no answer for.

  Cinia had edged away from the being, but to Qalen’s disappointment, she’d also stepped away from him, choosing instead to take the course which would distance her from both of them.

  He’d been right. She had grown distant. And it had happened when she’d seen his wings. She’d said, “You have his wings.”

  And now, Qalen realized, this was the one she’d been talking about.

  A thought occurred to him. One he pushed far away. No, he did not want to contemplate that this being could possibly be related to him.

  Not sure why he did it, not even sure what sense guided his actions, he flung his duster from his shoulders and cast it to the ground, unfurling his wings. He stood there, challenging the tall being with the ebony hair and yellow-ish green eyes with a vertical slit.

  Cinia stumbled back. She’d stepped to the side, more like almost ran, she admitted to herself, when Qalen had appeared. She no longer trusted him, convinced he was consorting with Saraz somehow.

  She was ready to turn her back on them, ready to run as far and as fast as she could, jungle cats and other threats be damned.

  But something made her pause. Something... She studied Qalen. It was the expression on his face. He had no friendly expression for Saraz. In truth, he seemed to have enmity in his face. And when he spread his wings, standing almost as tall as Saraz himself, she realized these two were not friends.

  She glanced at Saraz. The look on his face was one of shock.

  He began his thrumming, that sensation which preceded his mind controlling, but it seemed to have no effect on Qalen, for he stood there, at the ready, as if eager to do battle.

  Battle for me. Qalen was willing to champion her.

  An emotion she couldn’t define and one she’d never felt before flowed through her.

  The thrumming stopped. Saraz frowned. “How do you exist? How are you here? Are you Dumarian?”

  Dumarian? That was a new word for Cinia.

  Qalen cocked his head, studying Saraz. “I am not Dumarian. I am called Qalen.”

  “Your name is Qalen?” Saraz asked.

  Qalen nodded. “Yes. My name is not Dumarian.”

  “Dumarian is not a name. It is a race of people. My people. Your people, judging from your wings.” He scanned Qalen up and down. “But you are also Asazi.”

  “Who are you?”

  Saraz seemed to be ignoring his question. Cinia fought back the urge to answer. She didn’t want to bring attention to herself.

  “How is a half-Dumarian, half-Asazi born on Kormia?” Saraz crossed his arms over his chest.

  Cinia wondered the same. Though she still had no clue what Dumarian was, she was beginning to have some awareness. Did that mean there were more like Saraz? She shuddered at the prospect of having more males like Saraz on Kormia.

  And still Qalen was silent, though an ember of anger glowed within his eyes.

  A dawning expression crossed Saraz’s face. “Ah, Ashanta. She was pregnant. My son.”

  Saraz’s smile made another set of shivers coursed over Cinia’s body.

  What madness is this?

  9

  Qalen stared at the being in front of him with disbelief. He knew what he said was true. Ashanta was his mother’s name. This man knew his birth mother’s name. And this man had the same wings as himself. In all of his years, Qalen had never seen this.

  For a reason he could not understand, fury burned through his body, hot as lava that spewed from the mountains at the far borders of the Farlands. Rodina had told him Ashanta had fled from Midland, in labor with him, with fear in her eyes. She had not told him the story behind this because his birth mother had died before disclosing any details. But looking at this man, at the way he was threatening Cinia, and knowing how he had scared Ashanta, that created a rage within Qalen he had never before felt.

  He put his hand on the hilt of the weapon Rodina had told him belonged to her great-grandfather. Resilient, it was handcrafted by the most renown blacksmith Kormia had ever had.

  The scene before Cinia unfolded so quickly she was left reeling. Qalen had stood there, his handsome face stern, his legs braced apart, hand hovering at his waist, as if reaching for the weapon housed there.

  Saraz had watched Qalen with a bemused expression, one that meant he was plotting something.

  “Be careful.” The whispered words to Qalen escaped her lips.

  Saraz spared her a glance then moved with a speed she’d forgotten he had.

  Within seconds, Saraz and Qalen had weapons drawn and were slashing at one another. The sounds of metal clashing, males grunting, blades whooshing through the air made her hold her breath.

  She fought the urge to close her eyes and pray to an Asazi god she knew didn’t exist because he stood here fighting the man she’d come to realize she loved.

  Love?

  Cinia shook her head. What was she thinking? She wanted to shout at Qalen to be careful, wanted to warn him that Saraz had sneaky ways and was stronger than an average man, but she couldn’t.

  She was frozen in place, watching the horror unfold before her.

  When suddenly it stopped. A deafening silence ensued, broken only by the sound of Garth flying overhead and eliciting a piercing shriek.

  In the folds of her sleeve, Niptak chittered nervously.

  Saraz circled Qalen, assessing, measuring, taunting. He mock-lunged at Qalen, who stepped back with the assurance of one who’d practiced swordplay.

  Where had he learned to handle his weapon so well? She hoped he could keep from feeling the cold metal of Saraz’s wicked edge.

  Saraz laughed softly then thrust forward, blade reaching for flesh, thirsting for blood.

  Qalen blocked his move, ducked, and turned, his leg flying out, catching Saraz in the chest and propelling him backward.

  With a roar, Saraz leapt forward, weapon slicing through the air.

  Lunges and blocks, the battle continued, while Cinia’s pulse raced with the danger of the chaos before her.

  Curses, no!

  Qalen must have dropped his guard. Something
distracted him. His gaze settled on Cinia.

  She gasped as Saraz raised his saber and swung toward Qalen.

  With a scream frozen on her lips, she leapt forward with her small blade, not sure she could be of any use but unwilling to stand back and watch Qalen die.

  Suddenly, a white glow stopped Saraz’s attack, freezing him in his tracks.

  Cinia’s heart missed a beat. And then another as she stared at the sight before her.

  10

  Qalen twisted to avoid a blow. The sound of distress, an intake of air accompanied with the tiniest of cries made him glance at Cinia. She’d covered her mouth with her hand.

  A part of him noted the concern she felt for him, and he filled with an emotion he’d never experienced.

  He didn’t have time to register or name the emotion when her eyes widened the slightest bit. He turned his attention back to his foe just in time to see the blade of Saraz’s saber as it closed in on his torso.

  Then the most unexpected occurrence—a white glow intercepted Saraz’s weapon, followed by a second and third glow.

  Qalen leapt back, away from blades and glows.

  Saraz emitted a sound that was somewhere between a growl and loud humming that reverberated in the air. He glared, his eyes fierce, at the ones that had interrupted his kill.

  Qalen was thankful, but far more than that, he was in awe.

  Six beings with long red cloaks stood before him, all armed with the same weapon that had blocked Saraz’s saber. Swords made of white energy.

  Their hoods were thrown back. Their features were Kormic, but the spikes on their heads were a crimson color rather than the familiar orange tips on the Kormic people Qalen had met. All six pairs of eyes were covered with a pure white layer, as if they had cataracts.

  In the split of their cloaks, their garb resembled a Kormic warrior’s fitted armored attire. Behind each of their backs hung two long scabbards crossed in the shape of an X.

  Qalen stared. had told him of these beings. They were the legendary Elders. Old powerful beings who reigned with a subtle hand. She’d said they served more as guardians than rulers.

  “Elders. That is who you are,” he said with reverence.

  “Qalen,” one of the Elders said. “We are. And we have long watched you and waited.”

  What does that mean?

  Before he could give it much more thought, the same Elder turned to Saraz. “You know whom you are attacking.”

  Saraz grunted, the thrumming sound grew louder, his face shook, his muscles quivered, and his black-scaled wings unfurled as if exploding. His body expanded and thickened, his face lengthened, his grayish-black skin gleaming, white teeth flashing and elongating. He flung his head back and roared, the sound echoing in their surroundings.

  Nearby, Cinia gasped.

  Qalen stepped toward her, put his arm around her protectively.

  The creature Saraz had become subsided as he returned to his previous form, semi-human, nothing like the fierce creature he’d just been, but still daunting.

  “Get away from her,” he told Qalen.

  Qalen stood his ground, held his weapon at the ready.

  The Elder stepped forward. “You might be able to defeat Qalen, but our powers are greater than yours.”

  Saraz laughed, the sound more eerie than his roar had been.

  Saraz’s laughter died, suddenly. His eyes opened wide, jaw slackening as he stared. “You. How did you get here? Who are you?”

  Qalen’s head whipped in the direction Saraz was staring.

  Another being, just like Saraz.

  Confused, Qalen’s gaze ping-ponged between one and the other of these two beings. He was related to them. He had assumed Saraz was his father. But had he assumed wrong?

  Saraz launched himself at the newcomer, who never had a chance to answer because he was too busy flinging himself back away from Saraz’s weapon while at the same time reaching for the glowing white sword the Elder had tossed his way.

  Thrusting and blocking, the two beings who looked so much alike and who had wings like Qalen’s, battled.

  Parrying, their fight continued, uninterrupted by anyone. The two weapons they wielded so different, one a sword of light, one a sword of dark metal, clashed and dueled.

  Qalen had begun to think the two beings had trained in the same school of combat when, suddenly, Saraz stumbled and the newcomer raised his weapon, ready to deliver the final blow.

  “No,” Qalen uttered, surprised by his reaction.

  Saraz might very well be the one who had sired him, the one who could tell him about his heritage, and his birth mother.

  The newcomer glanced at Qalen then at the Elders.

  It was that brief hesitation, during which Saraz, with gray blood seeping from slashings in the scaly skin of his arms and chest, stepped back, wings unfurling, and raced away, airborne. He soon became a distant darkness in the sky.

  Qalen whistled. Garth came shrieking from the sky. He released another whistle Garth would recognize, and the predatory bird took flight after Saraz.

  The newcomer handed the weapon back to the Elders and wiped perspiration from his temple.

  “Why did you hesitate, Thane?” the Elders asked him. “Why not kill him?”

  The newcomer they’d called Thane glanced at Qalen then looked at the Elders. “I have been responsible for enough deaths.”

  “So, you cannot kill again?” a different Elder posed.

  Thane turned his head, staring toward the rising rocks that split the desolate Farlands landscape.

  Two women were approaching, and they were not alone.

  “I have and will kill to protect her.” Thane nodded toward the approaching women. “But I can’t be hired to kill.”

  Next to Qalen, Cinia flinched and gasped. “Taya!”

  11

  Cinia leapt from under Qalen’s arm and began to run across the soil toward one of the two women who were making their way toward her. She’d have known Taya’s red hair from a distance. Taya began to run toward her, leaving behind an Asazi woman and a Kormic man.

  Red-faced and panting, they both stopped running only when they’d collided in a hug.

  Squeezing her tightly, Taya pulled back and held Cinia’s face in her hands. “You are all right. You—” She burst into tears and said between sobs, “I thought you’d died. Thought a jungle cat had killed you.”

  Niptak, unsettled from the running and evidently nervous about the clashing that led to their hug, ran out of her sleeve and began to squeak loudly, expressing his discontent.

  Taya squealed and jumped back.

  “He’s my pet.” Cinia laughed. “He was my only friend and company until—” She glanced back at Qalen, whose eyes were focused on her. A blush she hadn’t planned but knew had to be turning her skin to the rose color that signaled her embarrassment. Until Qalen found me.”

  Taya glanced behind Cinia toward Qalen. “He’s your—”

  “No.” Cinia cut her off. “He’s not.” Unfortunately.

  The Kormic man and the Asazi woman Taya had been walking next to joined Taya and Cinia.

  Taya pulled the Kormic man forward by the hand. “My mate, Barz,” she said with a smile. “Father of the baby, I’m carrying.”

  Cinia let out a small squeal of delight. “You’re expecting?” She hugged her.

  “We’ve been looking for you.” Barz smiled wide as he nodded his orange-tipped spiky head.

  He wrapped his arms around Taya, who was glowing with a peaceful green color that undulated toward a rosy pink of pleasure and slight embarrassment at being the center of attention.

  Cinia felt her own skin turning warm as she regarded her friend’s happiness with pleasure. “I hope I will get to see your baby.” Who would have thought of an Asazi woman with a Kormic man?

  She glanced toward Qalen who was walking toward her, accompanied by the man they’d called Thane and the beings in the red robes Qalen referred to as Elders. Cinia faced the group she was
with and studied the Asazi woman who’d joined them.

  What was an Asazi woman doing out here? Was she an escaped Saraz concubine, too? Had she been brought to Saraz after Cinia and Taya had fled, and then run away herself?

  Cinia forced herself to look away, fearing she’d be found rude for staring.

  “I’m Ali,” the Asazi woman who joined them said. She was watching Thane. Her gaze held fondness.

  Ali half-turned, and Cinia gasped.

  Confused, Cinia gawked at her. “You have wings.”

  The woman’s answer was interrupted when Thane and Qalen stepped near.

  Thane took the winged woman’s hand.

  Qalen took a spot next to Cinia. A sense of peace overcame her. It was as if things were in order when he was next to her.

  He gave her the smile she’d come to know and would miss if they went separate ways.

  Qalen could sense emotions emanating from Cinia and wanted to talk to her, but this wasn’t the time, not with all the others around.

  His thoughts of what would come next were interrupted when one of the Elders stepped forward.

  “There is much that needs to be said by many of you.” This was the one who seemed to be the head Elder, the one Saraz had clashed with.

  Two of the other Elders murmured.

  The head Elder nodded. “And there is much to be said by us. We’ve been looking for Qalen.”

  Thane stepped forward. “I’m Thane.” He made eye contact with Qalen. “You are one of our kind. Sort of, half, I suppose. The other half is Asazi, it would seem.”

  The head Elder nodded. “His mother was an escaped concubine. One of Saraz’s.”

  A slight gasp came from Cinia. Qalen took her hand in his and held it. Her hand shook. He squeezed it reassuringly and wondered why this seemed to disturb her.