The Key of Creation: Book 02 - Journey to Khodara

by M. D. Bushnell

  The prisoner stared at the stranger. “Never mind that. Are you going to tell me who you are?”

  “For now let’s just say I’m a friend. All I want to know is whether you truly ordered the deaths of those men because you were working to prevent an invasion, or out of simple ambition.”

  “I tell you truly ‘friend,’ I knew from the beginning that…Gilmoure was plotting against me. Everything I did was only to stop that Illyrian bastard from taking over the country. I would have succeeded had that traitor Aldrick not betrayed me!”

  “A moment ago you had no idea he was the prince of Illyria.” The hooded man sounded skeptical.

  Brodan coughed. “I had to make sure you were not a spy sent by those traitors to get information out of me.”

  The cloaked stranger stared at the former regent for a moment, and then nodded. “I need to consider all of this.”

  Brodan licked his lips. “Listen friend, I need you to do something for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I need proof that King…Gilmoure is in truth Prince Garrick of Illyria. Can you do that?”

  The man shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  Brodan nodded, and tapped on the bars of his cell. “See that you do. When I am cleared of these bogus charges and released from this cell, I will see to it that you are properly compensated.”

  “I would think,” the stranger replied in an even voice. “That if evidence of an Illyrian plot and invasion are discovered, you will be set free.”

  Chapter 15

  The remains of The Wayward Prince looked like nothing so much as a battlefield. Dead bodies were scattered about, along with tumbled chairs and tables, most broken into pieces. Bits of pottery and shattered glass were strewn like a carpet on the wooden floor, accented by random splatters of blood and gore. Aldrick looked about in disbelief at the carnage left by the warrior; a most unusual woman who was inexplicably seeking the king and himself, and more importantly the Clavis.

  After receiving her gold, Greta had waddled off, disappearing into the kitchen. The smell of stew wafted into the common room, and Aldrick felt his stomach rumble.

  As if reading his mind, Dathan said, “I’m bloody hungry!”

  “I always work up an appetite when I’m saving beautiful women,” Garrick added with a grin. He winked at the warrior, but she ignored his flirtation.

  “We need to clean up this mess,” Aldrick suggested.

  “You are right of course,” Garrick agreed. Pointing at Warren and Dathan he said, “You boys drag in that other body, let’s get that taken care of. Aelianna was it? Maybe you can put down your profusion of weapons for just a moment, and find a broom. Start cleaning up this mess. Aldrick, see if any of these tables and chairs are in one piece.”

  Warren and Dathan were used to taking commands and immediately moved to comply. Aldrick worked to flip over a round table that, other than some chipping on one side, appeared to still be in usable condition.

  Aelianna frowned, and remained where she stood. “What you do?”

  “What do you mean?” Garrick said with an innocent expression, surveying the room.

  “You watch us work.”

  Garrick had a confused expression. “I’m the king.”

  “I thought you lost prince.”

  “I know it sounds strange, but actually I’m both. I’ll explain later. For now, sweep dagger lady!”

  “Why you not help?”

  “Someone has to supervise,” Garrick said in a matter-of-fact way, securing his gold pouch to his belt.

  “Help him with chairs!”

  “But…I…” Garrick stammered. “Oh all right, I suppose I could lend a hand this once,” the kind added with a very dramatic sigh. “Don’t get used to it however.”

  They worked to clean the debris from the fight, up righting the few tables and chairs that had survived the encounter, and sweeping up the detritus. The bodies were dragged into a storage closet until they could decide on a more permanent solution. Warren and Dathan then brought in buckets of water and worked to scrub some of the blood from the planked wooden floor.

  By the time Greta trundled out to announce that dinner was ready, they had been able to restore a modicum of order to the ruined common room. It was by no means ready for business, but it would suffice for their purposes for the time being.

  They sat down to dinner around the two surviving round tables, one of which had an annoying habit of rocking back and forth. Greta had been forced to use backup dishes, so they ate and drank from an eclectic and mismatched set of plates and glasses. Yet there was plenty of ale to go around, and it was not long until everyone was beginning to feel much better. Soon, the unfortunate and bloody incident from earlier that evening was all but forgotten.

  Even Greta, normally disagreeable on the best of days, became quite chatty, favoring them occasionally with a partially toothless grin. At one point, she regaled them with a long-winded tale about how her ‘no good husband’ had had a heart attack at this very table and died, leaving her the tavern––perhaps the ‘only good thin’ he’d ever done’ she lamented between long draughts of ale.

  Everyone laughed and smiled for a while, sorely in need of a distraction after the recent events; everyone that was, except Aldrick.

  Aldrick found he had trouble joining in with their revelry. He could not stop thinking about the Clavis, what it could possibly have to do with this warrior and her Ae’roya Jost, and how they might go about retrieving it. He was so lost in thought, that he barely noticed when a now drunken Greta stumbled off to the kitchen. Warren and Dathan, feeling a bit tipsy as well, trailed along behind her carrying dishes and laughing about the ‘bloody’ mismatched glasses.

  Aldrick now sat alone at his round table, staring at his half finished mug of ale. Garrick, who had spent most of the meal trying unsuccessfully to flirt with Aelianna, spared him a glance but he appeared to be in a trance. The king turned back to the warrior who glanced away quickly, seeming to ignore him completely.

  Unaccustomed to being ignored by a woman, Garrick frowned. He had already tried most of his usual lines without success, and was now at something of a loss on how to proceed with her. If the standard seduction techniques did not work, perhaps the direct approach would.

  “So…how did you find your way here? You came all the way from Kemett to find this artifact?”

  “Sly desert fox is now curious fox.”

  “I’m just trying to make conversation.”

  “Men never just talk. Always want something. Most times is sex.”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Garrick sputtered. “I just wanted to get to know a fellow warrior.”

  “Sly desert fox is back.”

  “Now listen dagger lady, you can call me King Garrick, or even Prince Garrick. By the All Father, just Garrick will suffice if we are going to be traveling together. But I have to be honest, I’m not keen on this sly desert fox business.”

  “Sly desert fox not like name,” Aelianna said, a hint of satisfaction in her crooked smile. “This is shame.”

  “You know what, forget it.” Garrick leaned back with a frown. “Call me whatever you want. See if I care.”

  Aelianna crossed her arms and smiled. “Good.”

  “I’ll just sit here and mind my own business,” the king added, looking up at the ceiling as if something interesting were there.

  “Good.”

  Garrick glanced about the room for a few moments, tapping his foot. Warren and Dathan returned, cleared the remaining dishes, and headed back towards the kitchen while joking with each other the entire time. Aldrick took a slow sip of ale and put the mug back down on the table, staring into the depths of the golden liquid as if trying to decipher a secret hidden there.

  Garrick stopped tapping his foot. “You know what…”

  “Sly desert fox is done with business?”

  “All I was asking for was a little story from a lovely lady who it seems I’m going to be traveling with. I
was just trying to be friendly and get to know you, that’s all.”

  Aelianna laughed, taking a long draught from her ale.

  “Fine,” Garrick stood in a huff. “I’ll leave you alone.”

  “You want story? Why you care?” She looked at him directly for the first time that evening.

  “Yes, I want the story. And I care because I am not in the habit of traveling with just anyone, and I was trying to get to know you a little before we leave.”

  His tone was forceful but he sounded sincere, and after a moment Aelianna nodded and even allowed herself a thin smile. “I will tell story,” she began as her smile slowly faded. “It was very hot day when I leave my people. I had small wagon with my things. It was so hot, sweat cover my whole body...”

  Garrick sat back down and leaned forward with an intent look. “Please, do go on.”

  Chapter 16

  The desert lands of Kemett seemed hotter than usual, Aelianna thought, as her small wagon pulled by a lone bor’asin, trotted slowly along the narrow dirt road. The dark furred pack animal, smaller than a horse, clopped along the hard ground. All around her, the rocky ground of the desert shimmered in the heat of the day. Through the hazy blur, she could just make out the dark outlines of the distant mountains to the north, and on her left the desert stretched away from her in an endless haze of nothingness.

  She rode away alone from the sprawling camp of her nomadic tribe. The visions might call for traveling companions later, but it was customary for those chosen by the Ae’roya Jost to begin their journey by themselves. It was considered a right of passage.

  Her wagon contained supplies given to her by the tribe, which would see her through the next several days. After that she would be on her own. It was left to the chosen one and the providence of the visions to provide the necessary food and water for the remainder of the journey, through hunting, foraging or bartering, as the prophecy had decreed.

  A family of moush’rin, small rodents found only in this part of the desert, passed by in front of her wagon in search of food, or perhaps on their way home. She thought of shooting one or two to save for a later meal, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She did not wish to interrupt the formality of her departure on her dream vision, and in truth she had enough food for the time being. Besides, while moush’rin were fine in a pinch, they did not taste all that good. Unaware their destiny had been decided by the warrior, the small family of animals scampered out of the way of the rumbling wagon, and disappeared into the shimmering haze of the desert.

  Growing up in a nomadic tribe, Aelianna was accustomed to traveling, but this was the first time she would be completely separated from her people. If it was not for the death of her brother several Summers earlier, subsequently forcing her father to insist she undergo the intense training to become a warrior, for both the honor of the family and her own self-preservation, the long journey ahead might have been very lonely and frightening indeed.

  Still, she was not yet far from home, and all she needed to worry about for now was keeping to the dirt track in a northwesterly direction; easily navigated by the position of the sun.

  Water would be scarce for the next several days, until she reached the fertile valley surrounding Ae’lax Andretta, the capital of Kemett, and the only permanent city in the entire country. She knew that she would need to ration her water carefully, only drinking enough liquid to keep herself hydrated. Fortunately, part of her warrior training growing up had been to learn to live on less water than would normally be required, even on the hottest days in the desert. The canteen she had fashioned allowed only a small trickle of the precious life-giving liquid, and that combined with her training, would need to see her through the dangerous journey across the desert lands between her tribe and Ae’lax Andretta.

  She also knew from her training that it was very easy in the heat of the desert to see mirages and drift into daydreams, which brought on hallucinations and images of the past. She fought against these illusions; there were parts of her past she cared not to remember.

  She ignored her growing thirst by concentrating on the pressure in her bladder. It was believed by the warriors of her tribe that if you could keep from relieving yourself of waste liquid for as long as possible, your body could learn to reuse it, thereby allowing you to preserve your precious water supply even further. She was still young and had not mastered the technique yet, but doing so now could mean the difference between life and death. Staying hydrated was a key factor in surviving the heat, by any means, and comfort was not something she had been taught to appreciate growing up.

  The sun dipped beyond the horizon to the west, and as dusk settled around her, the feeling in her loins became unbearable. She decided to make camp for the night before it was too dark. After relieving herself, she set up her tent made from animal skins to protect her from the elements, and from unexpected visits by any local four-legged denizens of the desert that might wander by during the night. She made a small fire from dried bor’asin droppings, and prepared a quick meal from her rations. After eating, she fed and groomed her pack animal before preparing for bed. She knew that proper rest would be nearly as important as water for making it through the long journey ahead.

  Before climbing into her tent for the night, Aelianna retrieved her bone bow and quiver of arrows from the wagon. She knew that wild gorg’gron hunted at night all around these parts, and without the safety of the camp, she would be an easy target for a group of them. A relative of the northern wolf, these smaller predators were various shades of brown to blend into the desert landscape, and hunted their prey in packs.

  As if her thoughts had summoned them from their hiding places in the hard desert, she heard a distant howl that sent a shiver down her spine. The echoes of the first call were just fading when it was followed by another howl, this one a bit closer.

  She hoped the pack had not sensed her, as she did not wish to fight them. If anything, she had a healthy respect for the gorg’gron. When she was younger, her father had saved an orphaned pup after her tribe had killed a local pack of gorg’gron that had been terrorizing their animals. He had brought the pup home, and she had raised it as a pet. It had been a bit wild to be the pet of a child, but she had loved it nonetheless. Her father had often smiled and said they were meant for each other.

  Another howl echoed among the rocks around her. The pack had sensed her, and was on the hunt. There was no doubt about it now. She tried to push away her feelings of her childhood pet; those emotions would not help her now. Any hesitation on her part would mean certain death. This was a matter of self-preservation. Hunt or be hunted. Kill or be killed.

  The night seemed to last forever as the night cries of the pack approached, growing always louder. With her bow at the ready, and an arrow knocked in place, Aelianna trained all her senses towards the incoming hungry pack. Strangely, she almost felt she could sense their approach.

  Clutching her bow in one hand, she peered into the darkness. Before long she spotted movement among the dark rocks strewn about the landscape surrounding her campsite. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she remained vigilant. When they attacked, she would need to find their leader and drop him with the first arrow. He would be the fastest, and the strongest––the alpha male. With him down, she might have a chance at stopping a couple more of the creatures with arrows before the pack was too close to fight with the bow. Then, she would be forced to fight with her knives. She felt her stomach clench, and forced herself to take a deep shuddering breath.

  Movement at the edge of her camp sent a warning spark up her spine. Unbidden, thoughts of her beloved childhood pet sprang to mind. She blinked back a single tear.

  The dark shapes of the gorg’gron crept into the glow of the dying embers of her small fire. The dark fur of the beasts blended into the desert night, but light flickered in their shining eyes. She raised her bow, seeking the leader, but rather than launch at her in the vicious attack she was expecting, the gorg’gron slowly spread out
in a circle around her. They neither snarled nor bared their fangs, as she would have expected them to do with their prey cornered. The wild predators only looked at her, wary perhaps, but curious and calm.

  She turned as they formed a circle around her, looking from one to the next. At first she thought they were trying to surround her, to block off any means of escape. She raised her bow defensively, waiting for the inevitable attack. But they stayed at the edge of the light of her campfire, watching her. It was almost as if they were waiting for something, a signal of some kind.

  She thought again of her love for her childhood pet. She was different than the rest of her tribe with her feelings towards these creatures. She could not help it; she did not want to kill these animals. Deep down inside she felt a warm place in her heart for them. It was strange; she almost felt a connection with them that was beyond anything she had experienced before in her life.