K B Forrest - [Fire Chronicles 04]

by Banner of Fire [eXtasy MM] (epub)

  The scowling man’s frown disappeared as he was drawn into the story. “So what did they say? You must have been a hero. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to turn the entire herd,” the scowling man said.

  Atar smiled. “You need to see him up close. He really is one hell of a horse.” He stood up and let out a piercing whistle. The other men stood up too. Ishria appeared after a moment and pranced up to Atar.

  “Good Goddess!” the dice man exclaimed. “I’ve never seen such a horse.”

  “My pony is so short compared with this,” the young guard said, unconsciously stepping forward.

  “Not too close now,” Atar warned, “he’s none too kind to strangers.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  “Hey, what’s going on over there!” came a distant shout. The four guards turned their heads and Atar saw his chance. One moment he was on the ground, the next he had vaulted into the air and onto Ishria’s back.

  “What – hey stop!” the dice man howled.

  Atar’s nose was filled with the scent of freedom. With a piercing battle cry, he urged Ishria into a sprint.

  There was chaos behind him.

  “Take the left way out,” the scowling man ordered his friend as they scrambled for their ponies.

  “Get reinforcements,” the dice man snarled at the young guard as he shoved him roughly toward the camp.

  Atar heard the cries behind him and felt his blood run hotter in his veins. Ishria’s legs ate up the ground. Atar leaned into his whipping mane clinging to his bare back like a burr.

  They were beyond the horse herd now. Atar and Ishria disappeared over a rise in the land. He jerked Ishria to an abrupt halt by a cluster of trees. Heart pounding, he scrambled off his mount and hit the ground, eyes darting about in search of the sack he had hidden away earlier in the day. Could someone have taken it? His heart leapt as he saw the dark shape, illuminated by the watery moonlight. Next to the sack, he had propped his enormous mace against a tree.

  He whirled and raced back to Ishria. Too late, he realized his mistake. Ishria shied away from him, alarmed by the dark shape hurtling toward him.

  Damn, no games now Ishria, I don’t have time for this!

  Atar approached again, slower this time, and to his horror, Ishria bolted. So much for being such a fine reliable horse, Atar snarled silently. The shouts from the camp grew louder and horsemen approached.

  Atar whistled, praying to Ahuramazda.

  He tossed a glance over his shoulder and saw riders silhouetted against the now bright camp. They descended the hill, coming straight at him, full speed.

  “No!” Atar screamed inside his head.

  A snort from behind him made his heart jump. “Ishria!” Atar gasped. He grabbed Ishria’s mane and vaulted onto his back, clutching his precious sack and his mace. They were almost upon him. His pursuers shouted, catching sight of him.

  “Run, Ishria, run!”

  Ishria took off over the moonlit expanse, building in speed as he ran. Over the noise of Ishria’s pounding hooves and his own pounding heart, he could hear the pursuers shouting at one another. Atar urged Ishria faster.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Yes, Atar the Firestarter, surely you’ve heard of him,” Kava said, slightly impatient. He set his beer mug down on the rough wooden table.

  “Oh yes, of course, of course the Firestarter! Hasn’t everyone?” the barkeeper laughed nervously. “But no, we haven’t actually seen him. A peddler came in three weeks ago and said they saw the Atar and the forty soldiers outside a small town about three days ride from the Dragon Caves. He said they were headed east. I am certain of that,” the barkeeper said, filling Kava’s cup again.

  “Good,” Kava said.

  “I just can’t believe it is all happening. I just don’t know what to do with three quarters of the town riding off to join the uprising.”

  “You’ll live,” Kava said.

  The barkeep looked skeptical.

  “Hush up you sack of chicken shit!” the other barkeeper, the man’s wife said, catching his last comment. “You embarrass this establishment, honestly. General Kava, sir, pay no mind to my timid husband. We are all just so amazed. What a thrill to see the army coming into town! What a thrill! The people making a stand and all. High time we took matters into our own hands. I just felt so helpless when they took my own dearest daughter and two of my sons in the tithe.”

  The woman made no effort to gloss over her bitterness. Kava gave her a reassuring smile. “We shall have done with this Dragon King. We could, in fact, use a woman of your organizing skills in the movement. Care to join?”

  The woman paused. Her husband shot her a don’t-you-dare look and she abruptly said, “Certainly!”

  “Get your things,” Kava said, hiding a grin. “You won’t need much.”

  A few minutes later Kava walked out of the bar with the woman. Her nagging husband was whining in the background.

  “Get the extra blankets and don’t forget the two sacks of flour by the hearth,” the woman ordered her husband as she stepped out the door. The streets were packed with people, some lounging, and some sitting right in the cobbled street, all talking excitedly. A group of newly recruited farmers wove among the groups of people, carrying wickedly sharp pitchforks. Some women right in front of the inn looked up and greeted Kava as he emerged. The small town was too tiny to hold the enormous force of people, all armed with anything that might serve as a useful weapon. It was a remarkable sight.

  “Sir,” Jamshir called out.

  “Son?” Kava turned to see his young son carrying the Banner of Fire.

  “Look!” the child’s shrill voice made people turn. Jamshir unfurled the banner on its heavy spear and held it aloft for all to see. It shimmered gloriously in the morning sun. The gems and gold brocade threw back refracted light. A wild cheer rose up as the banner was lifted into the air and the golden streamers fluttered on the edge of the glorious flag. Kava felt his heart swell with pride at the sight of his son waving the Banner of Fire and the glorious cheer that rose up from the very soul of the people of Persia. It was a sound that meant the injustices suffered by the people would not be tolerated. They were united under the glorious, once worthless flag that had been his blacksmith’s apron.

  “What happened to it?” Kava asked Jamshir, the awe in his tone plain.

  “One of the rich silk merchants and the jeweler from this town decorated it. Those stones are real!”

  A well-dressed man and an older man in a jeweler’s apron stepped out of the crowd. Kava took the flag from the boy and marveled at how it had changed. The figure of a fierce boar had been stitched in gold with incredible detail. Around the figure of the Royal Farr, gems were embedded into the leather. The flag was the same on both sides.

  “Unbelievable,” Kava whispered. He looked up at the jeweler and the silk merchant. “Do you know how much you have assisted us? How can we ever thank you?”

  “Just doing my part,” the jeweler said, “seeing as how I am too old and crotchety to fight, I thought this might make up some.”

  “Yes, it was the least I could do. My best artist sewed that gold brocade,” the silk merchant said proudly.

  Kava raised the banner and moved toward his horse. “Let us be off to find Atar!” he bellowed.

  “I’ve got my horse, my mace, my tiger skin and my life. There is no way I am going back, Bulliwuf. The summer is almost halfway gone. I am not going to waste time bumbling about the countryside with those manic barbarians.”

  “You’re just mad because she sat on your head.” Bulliwuf was having a good laugh. “Still, I’m serious, Atar. You have a responsibility.”

  “Maybe if you deigned to explain yourself once in a while I would follow your advice. What do you mean? You keep referring to responsibilities, but I don’t know what you mean.” Atar looked away from Bulliwuf.

  Bulliwuf stopped speaking a second before Ishria reared, wild with panic. The shrill whinny that tore f
rom his throat chilled Atar’s blood. Desperately, Atar clung to Ishria’s back.

  What does he see? Atar thought desperately as his heart kicked into high gear.

  Ishria’s front hooves hit the ground and the creature stood stock still for a split second. Atar’s eyes flicked over the land but could see nothing amiss.

  Ishria whirled around and nearly jerked Atar off balance. The stallion bolted in a dead panic over the land. Atar let the great beast run, feeling a cold trickle of fear because of the narrow escape. Abruptly, Ishria stopped, rearing again, his eyes rolling with terror.

  Atar was so surprised by his horse’s abrupt change of direction that he was thrown off Ishria’s back. He let out a pained yowl when his body smacked into the unforgiving ground. Ishria’s hoof beats thundered away.

  Damn! Atar looked at the rolling hills that surrounded him, trying to catch his breath. Bulliwuf was nowhere in sight. He probably had not noticed that he had fallen off Ishria, he thought, as a wave of nausea swept through him.

  “Damn!” Atar ST cursed aloud this time. He groaned and got to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain, determined to move on. If he lost his damn horse, even for a few hours, those crazy barbarians could gain the advantage. Of all the horrid, impolite… Atar’s thoughts stopped, as did his feet.

  The hairs on the back of his neck rose as an exhalation of breath behind him stirred the quiet morning air. A second ticked by and he doubted he had actually heard the noise. Slowly, Atar turned.

  The creature was perhaps three yards behind Atar. His tusks were most definitely tipped with gold. Atar’s throat grew dry. It would move in for the kill any second, he thought. His entire frame was tense and filled with adrenaline. The great boar’s eyes glittered with intelligence, but it did not move. The moment dragged on for a frozen eternity.

  Atar blinked and the creature before him disappeared. I’m going nuts, he thought, aware that the blood was leaving his face. Feeling dizzy, he felt his legs bend under the pressure of his own weight.

  He turned his body abruptly to search the plain behind him, but there was nothing. He was alone. He let out a shuddering breath that turned into a semi hysterical laugh. I am as crazy as Ezad the Insane!

  Bulliwuf appeared over the rise. He was returning.

  As soon as he was close, Atar ran to him and knelt. “Did you see it? I mean…it was…this creature. I saw the most enormous boar! It just stood there waiting to kill me. You must have seen it retreating from your vantage point.”

  Bulliwuf was silent. “Well?” Atar demanded.

  Bulliwuf moved on and Atar had no choice but to scramble to his feet and follow him. They finally were able to spot Ishria and then they decided to stop for lunch. Atar didn’t waste time roasting the fat ground squirrel he had killed earlier that day. It wasn’t much, but they ate hungrily.

  Atar’s mind was whirling. He had had time to consider his encounter with the enormous boar. With a sickening feeling, he realized that he had run into the great beast before. His mind cast back to that eventful day when he was just thirteen. Later, he had dismissed the idea that the beast had just disappeared. Atar assumed that his over active imagination had run away with his better sense. But he wasn’t thirteen anymore and his eyes had not fooled him. Why else would Ishria have panicked?

  Without wasting time, Atar tore into the last bit of meat as he headed for his horse. He mounted Ishria easily and tossed a glance over his shoulder. He wasn’t even as afraid of the Horde as he was of that creature.

  “In a little bit of a hurry?” Bulliwuf inquired with typical condescension.

  “Yes,” Atar said. His mind conjured up an image of the great boar following him, waiting. Unconsciously, he urged Ishria faster. “What if that thing is following us?”

  “It probably will,” Bulliwuf said cheerfully.

  “I don’t know how you could joke about it. I was almost killed.”

  They rode on for several more hours and the sun began to sink. In the distance, Atar saw smoke rising. As they drew closer, he saw that they were approaching a small town.

  “Excellent!” Atar exclaimed. “We can stop here for the night and get our bearings.”

  They entered the town at a canter. Atar was surprised to discover the place was nearly deserted. He slowed Ishria in front of an inn of sorts. Uncertainly, he dismounted, and a stable lad rushed over to take Ishria’s reigns. Atar shook his head and waved him away, leading his ill-tempered mount into the stables himself. He breathed in deeply when he stepped out and immediately looked up at the darkening sky.

  “Should I go in?” Atar asked Bulliwuf hesitantly as he looked at the door. The wolf had grown very quiet.

  As they entered the inn, Atar was glad of Bulliwuf’s company, despite his condescension. Atar left the door open and approached the bar. He wasn’t sure he was allowed to sit on the high chairs. His gaze was so fixed on them that he neglected to see the chair leg that caught his foot.

  A tremendous crash brought the temporary proprietor out into the dining area at once.

  Bulliwuf sat down and watched Atar try to detangle himself from the table and chairs he had overturned. Red faced, Atar got to his feet to see a man staring at him with ill concealed shock.

  Atar cleared his throat and picked up his mace. “Hello,” Atar said stiffly.

  “Good Lord,” the man said under his breath. “I expect you’ll want a bite to eat?” The man disappeared into a door before Atar could say a word.

  The man returned, “Sit, sit,” he invited Atar as he set a great meal on the table.

  “I can’t,” Atar said. A sound behind him made him turn. There were people outside staring at him through the open door. “I haven’t got any money, I-”

  “No problem,” the man said, a big smile on his face.

  “What a sweetheart!” a feminine voice from the doorway said. “Poor thing looks so hungry, don’t he, Rohna?”

  “What lovely big eyes you’ve got there. You’re just the sweetest dog I’ve ever seen. We’ve still got that meat roast from yesterday, right?”

  Bulliwuf was acting like a big weak and helpless dog as the women patted and petted the ferocious carnivore.

  “You must be Atar?” the man said. Atar looked up, shocked. He noticed that a woman had joined the man behind the counter. People outside began to file in, looking at him with intense interest.

  “H-how did you know?” Atar asked, digging into his food with the air of a half starved animal.

  “What do you mean? Everyone knows you,” the woman exclaimed. “Why, half of Persia is looking for you.”

  Atar felt his heart sink. So, Zohak wanted to finish him off? He had fervently hoped that the man would just let the matter slide, but he seemed to be out of luck. Or did they still think he was guilty of killing Hergor? He shot a glance over his shoulder at the gawking townspeople and shoveled his food faster.

  “This is delicious,” he said, and the woman blushed.

  “I am so glad you like it, Firestarter, sir. I shall tell all my friends,” the woman giggled. Atar stared at her. Was that the way people treated someone wanted for murdering the Emperor?

  “You certainly have made yourself scarce,” the man said chuckling. “Only last week, Kava the Blacksmith came through here with the Army of the People looking for you.”

  Atar choked. They had sent a whole army after him?

  “The A-army of the People,” Atar repeated dully when he got his breath back.

  “Yes, it was an exhilarating sight!” the woman said. “Kava the Blacksmith is looking for you. The actual owners of this place have left the town, along with half the people, to join the Army.”

  “Kava?” Atar asked.

  “Yes, the blacksmith from the settlement near the Dragon Caves.”

  “Um, why?” Atar asked, feeling phenomenally stupid.

  “Well, to lead the Army of the People, of course,” the man said.

  “Wait – this Kava wants me to lead what?” Atar a
sked. He stopped speaking as he realized that the people in the now crowded room were listening raptly as history unfolded before their very eyes.

  “Kava the Blacksmith and the Army of the People are looking for you,” the woman said. “They want you to lead the army against the evil Dragon King.”

  Atar had a vivid flash of memory. General Tavos’ face popped up behind his eyes.

  “No,” Atar said. There was a collective gasp in the small room. “I’ve had enough of leading armies to last me several lifetimes. I only came into this town to get an idea of where I was.”

  “B-but, the people – the stand against injustice…” the man said, trailing off.

  “You can’t just let Zohak go on like he is. You must help us!” the woman said.

  Atar felt inexplicable guilt, but could not help asking, “Must? Why does this Kava want me, in particular? If he’s assembled an army, let him do the leading.”

  “You are the Firestarter! Not only that, but you are destined to be the next king. They seek the protection of your Royal Farr.”

  Atar gaped at them. Finally he said, “Thank you very much for the meal, I greatly appreciate your kindness, but I really must go now.”

  “Oh no! Won’t you take a room?” the man said.

  “Uh, no, no, I really must go,” Atar hastily exited the room and went to Ishria. The stallion was none too pleased with having to head out again and wasn’t shy about letting Atar know how he felt. When they were a goodly distance from the town, he stopped Ishria under a small stand of oak trees.

  Curling himself into a comfortable position, Atar tried to relax. An hour later he was still wakeful, the normally soothing sounds of the night doing little to woo sleep. The disappointment in the faces of the people nagged at him. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling of guilt. But why? It certainly wasn’t his duty to go leading armies. He had made that awful mistake before and still hadn’t extricated himself from that mess. It was a dangerous business. And he certainly didn’t owe anyone anything. All he really wanted to do was spend his life by that beautiful lake he had dreamed of in the Wildlands. He couldn’t care less about who was ruling the kingdom, or whether or not he was cruel. He just didn’t care!