Lords of the Sands: An Epic Dark Fantasy Novel

by Paul Yoder

  “This unfortunate ‘Nomad’ friend of yours. He is the key to finding the avatar of Telenth. He will lead you to his master, and, as long as Nomad does not know of your plans to use him, he will not be able to give your plans away. Telenth will draw him back home while you use him as a lead to strike the avatar. It is imperative that nothing is mentioned of this around him, or you run the risk of exposing your path to the Ashen One.”

  Reza had listened carefully to Leaf’s ploy. She supposed she had figured to do the same; allow Nomad to lead them to the arisen king and then dispatch the warlord. She realized now, though, it was the default course of action. She did not have an actual strategy on how to best approach their goal.

  Leaf’s scheme seemed sound. She guessed Telenth had some kind of connection with Nomad, as he had babbled dark words regarding the lord of ash before in his sleep. If he did have some way to check in on Nomad, perhaps there was a way they could feed the dark lord some misinformation. She had no idea if they would be able to out-clever a god, but they could try.

  She nodded after a moment and agreed with Leaf’s reasonings.

  “I will let the others know we need to be careful about letting any important information slip around Nomad.”

  “Good, see that you do,” one of the other dryads said, the grove of treekin leaning in on Reza, getting a nod out of her, who was already in agreeance.

  “Give me the ring,” Leaf said, holding out her wooden hand, Reza depositing it in her palm without hesitation.

  Leaf held it forward, and the other dryads circled around it, each lowering their leaf-covered heads to shroud the gemmed ring, making it difficult to see what was happening within the canopy of hair.

  Tears glistened from each, one by one, and though she only saw the fluid briefly, the light-amber and spring-green colored drops fell onto the ring’s gem, melting into it, giving it a liquid-like shimmer within.

  The dryads broke the circle, Leaf slowly handing over the ring back to Reza, admiring her handiwork a moment before it slipped from her grasp.

  “Now this trinket has not only Farenlome’s blessing, but ours as well. You hold a very rare gift with this ring. Cherish it. Keep it safe,” Leaf whispered as she locked eyes with Reza.

  “As a saren, you have the power to heal. This blessing of living sap can provide any number of powers to the various children of Una. For the children of Sareth, however, it will provide you with more essence to draw upon when exerting your people’s power. Whereas before you had to balance your own life energy to heal the wounds and sickness of others, now, you may call upon what collective life we have bestowed upon you through this ring to help sustain you beyond your natural limits.

  “This blessing we rarely offer. I have paid the price not just with my blood, or the blood of my sisters, but with that of my whole grove. Use this blessing wisely in this war you bring to Telenth, or—there will be consequences.”

  Reza shuddered. She wanted to ask in detail how she would know when would be an appropriate time to call upon the blessing, or even how she was to tap into the power within, but the eldest dryad broke the silence first.

  “Reza,” Tulanae said, not quite as fluent in callatum as Leaf was, her tone a bit harsher, “go back to your people on the edge of the grove. Gather them, and leave this place.”

  “I will. Thank you,” Reza said, getting up from the root seat, bowing to the intimidating line of delicate, living trees and headed back through the trail she had come, eager to meet back up with her friends and leave the growingly oppressive grove.

  Reza had been hustling her way back through the small forest path when Fin came flying down the trail towards her.

  “Fin! What’s happened?” Reza asked, seeing the urgency in his look, knowing he would not have come this far into the dryad’s forest unless necessary.

  “Sephentho forces are here looking for Nomad. Cavok and Arie took him and left. We need to leave these woods, now—”

  Fin was cut short by a baleful breeze and a shadow rushing past them the direction Fin had come.

  “What was that?” Reza questioned, the trees bending low, feeling much too oppressive for either of their liking.

  Turning to head back, all three began to run down the trail towards where Nomad had been buried, the forest constricting the archway of boughs as they ran.

  There was another shadow, trees undulating for a moment, then a ripple of green shot past them on the trail. Shadowy figures darkened the claustrophobic woods as the two of them had to hunch low as they exited the forest trail just in time, the foliage now shrouding the path that was just there moments before.

  A man’s scream, then another yell, cried out somewhere just outside the treeline up the knoll.

  “Reza, come on. We need to go,” Fin whispered, grabbing her wrist, tugging for her to follow his lead, another scream sounding closer as a man in armor came running into view down the knoll into the grove.

  He saw them for a moment, meeting eye contact with them, desperation in his eyes, then, he tripped over a root, tumbling head over heels down the grassy hill, getting wrapped up in a tangle of spiked vines as he fell, one looping around his neck, wringing taut as he came close to the end of the decline, the thick barbs ripping every inch of skin away from his neck as his makeshift noose hung him at the bottom of the slope, now wearing a crimson splattering of a necklace, blood gushing from the noose.

  Reza looked up the hill to the treeline, which now seemed smeared with blood, morphing shades floating in and out of the dark places in the foliage, guardsmen’s body’s being tossed and played with, though by what, it was very hard to visually see the predator that hunted them.

  A firm yank on her wrist from Fin and the two turned and ran the other way, not giving that grove another godforsaken glance.

  16

  Monsoon for the Lone Road Ahead

  “Oh my god! Didn’t think I’d ever be so happy to see endless desert!” Fin exclaimed, kneeling in the sand to take up handfuls of it, letting the grains filter through his clenched fists, Reza tussling his hair as she walked past her melodramatic travel companion.

  “Let’s hope the others are on the same path back to Sheaf. Can’t believe we haven’t come across any signs of them yet,” Reza said, a slightly subdued note in her voice as she walked ahead, leaving Fin there, kneeling in the sand.

  “Come, Fin,” she said in a smooth voice, some distance ahead now, as he watched her slowly saunter into the sunset with the backdrop of the orange and purple dunes stretched out for miles ahead of them.

  He slowly got up, dusted himself off, and started to catch up with his old travel companion, idly reflecting on the long and lonely road they walked, strangely feeling sure they were not destined to meet back up with Cavok and the others on the road to Sheaf.

  The dunes of the Plainstate stretched out for miles, and Fin knew it would be many days more before either party would see the red walls of Sheaf.

  “If not on the trail, we’ll see them back in Sheaf,” Fin said confidently, catching up with Reza who had slowly made her way ahead of him along the first dune in the cooling desert, the sun almost lowered below the dunes now, distant, heavy storm clouds hovering over the horizon.

  She remained silent on the subject, and as they crested the first dune, seeing the open expanse with nothing or no one in sight for as far as he could see, his thoughts turned over on themselves again and again on ways things could have gone bad for the other group.

  He missed Cavok.

  The night was cold, much colder than the nights had been amidst the woods and soft soil nights hitherto. The transition from high mountains and lively woodlands to steppe and then to desert had been quick, only taking them two days to make it from foothills to endless dunes. It was a beautiful, and impressive, shifting of scenes.

  “Fin,” Reza called, snapping him out of his private reflections while curled up in his blanket at the fire’s light, “come here. You�
�re being unusually quiet over there by yourself.

  Fin looked up, seeing Reza’s open arm, beckoning him to join by her side near the fire’s warm glow.

  She seemed in better spirits the last few days than she had been prior to. Perhaps she had needed some time away from Nomad—surely she had needed that—but it was something more. The ring she wore seemed a warming presence to her, softening her mind, her mood.

  “Come,” Reza beckoned again, smiling invitingly, a smile Fin felt as though were from a distant time.

  Slowly getting up, stretching out his bones, Fin sauntered over to Reza, snuggling into her open arm as she draped her blanket she wore around him.

  “Rare indeed are the nights that you share an embrace with anyone, even those you’re closest to, Reza,” he said, pulling a flask out and taking a draw while he waited for the fire to warm him.

  Reza ignored his observation and took the flask from him when he handed it to her. Though he meant for her to share a swig of the high proof alcohol, she capped it and stashed it instead, leaving a very disappointed, long-faced Fin under her wing.

  “Guess I can’t expect too much change from you at once. Ever the party-pooper,” he said, lightly jabbing her in the ribs, getting an expected, though still painful, sharp jab back, depositing him out of her welcoming blanket.

  Fin looked a little more than mockingly hurt by the gesture. “I need that flask back, Reza. I’m leaving soon, probably tonight.”

  Reza smirked at Fin’s retort, but when he saw that she wasn’t taking his comment seriously, he pressed, “I mean it, Reza. I’m heading out tonight and damn it if I’m heading into the desert alone without a bit of goddamned liquor!”

  Reza’s smirk faded as she saw he was not just being facetious.

  “You’re heading out? Why? Where?” Reza asked, brows now furrowed.

  Fin stood up, looking to the ring that seemed to glow with a life force of its own in the night’s light, and then back to Reza.

  “You’re set on helping Nomad, it’s clear. You actually plan to face this arisen king, lord, avatar or whatever—that monster that forced us to abandon Bede that horrible night—” Fin hesitated, the mere mention of Bede causing him to close his eyes in hurtful recollection before continuing. “You are amassing a crew, it seems. And we are returning to Sheaf. I’m assuming you will enjoin Metus to lend aid to your cause.”

  “And what? Would you not have me attempt to save Nomad? You speak of my plans. Shouldn’t this be our plan, or have you given up on Hiro?”

  Fin smiled, happy to see Reza’s old flame of stubbornness and hot temper still within her.

  “No, no, Reza. That’s not what I’m getting at. I’ll join back up with you at Sheaf, like Cavok, Arie, and Nomad will. If it’s a special force you’re looking for, I know someone who would be worth having on our side. He owes me one—well, a few—but if he comes through for us on this mission, I’ll let him off the hook in terms of our debt. He’s not too far out of the way. I should be back at Sheaf soon after you three arrive.”

  A distant rumble of thunder rolled through them, a light, moist breeze ruffling their hair and garb.

  Reza looked to the dark, fast approaching clouds on the last-light horizon and asked, “We’re still so far out, you sure you’re going to be alright traveling alone?”

  “I’ve been able to handle myself so far. Spent most of my life alone, on the streets. Don’t know why now would be any different. Besides, you’re the one I worry about out here alone. I had to think long and hard to come to this decision. But you made it to Jeenyre caring for a flagging Nomad, I think you’ll be able to handle a few days’ travel without me. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet up with Cavok and the others on the way,” Fin said hopefully.

  “Hope I’m right about all this. I think it’ll be worth our while. You’ll see once you meet Blind Bat Matt…” Fin ended with a chuckle, gathering his things, looking to the rainfall they could now see.

  “Not getting any sleep tonight, judging by the monsoon that’s coming our way. Might as well start walking. The sooner I make it to Sansabar, the sooner I’ll be back at Sheaf to a nice, relaxing hearth and banquet.”

  Reza, standing there wrapped in her blanket, struggled for words for a response, but the speed of the storm clouds was pressing any arguments she was trying to formulate away, and Fin had already gathered his things and bent over to plant a kiss on Reza’s cheek before charmingly tipping his wide brimmed traveler’s hat at her.

  “Safe travels,” he said, pausing, struggling to finish his thought. “I’d hate the thought of something happening to you on the road, so stay safe and be smart. If we had the time, I’d see you to Sheaf and then head for Sansabar, but with Nomad how he was…time is short.”

  “Why not just send a messenger for Matt once we’re in Sheaf?” Reza questioned as Fin watched the rain line approach.

  “He wouldn’t listen to a messenger. Hells, not even sure he’ll listen to me, but I think it’ll be worth my effort,” he said with a sigh, his breath smoking in the sudden cold snap.

  “Tell everyone I’ll be there quickly as ol’ Matt’s legs will allow us to be. Might want to pack some things up in that leather bag if you don’t want them wet. Rain should be hitting us any minute now. Farewell, Reza!”

  “Fin!” Reza called out, the crack of thunder nearby drowning her voice out. “Be safe!” She yelled after him, but the wall of rain a few hundred meters out was already dampening her voice.

  Fin didn’t seem to hear her last words to him, or if he did, he didn’t respond. He was already headed off into the wall of rain that swept across the sandy dunes.

  17

  The Wretched Trek

  “Hold!” Cavok urgently whispered, raising his hand to halt everyone from heading over the next dune, the beckoning for Arie to make haste and join him at the lip of the dune’s crest.

  She had just made it to Cavok’s side when he let out a curse. “Bugger’s over the ridge already. There was someone far off a few dunes over. Seemed to be alone. Keep those keen eyes of yours that direction in case they show up again.”

  He watched along the dunes a moment longer before continuing. “We’ll take a break for now to make sure we don’t connect with any trouble. I’ll watch that louse and make sure he keeps his distance with Nomad. He’s been getting bolder lately.”

  The two turned and locked eyes with the foreigner who had been loosely traveling with them since they had split up in the oak forest weeks ago.

  Yozo was out of earshot, a good distance back from where Nomad stood idle, covering his head with Yozo’s own wide-brimmed hat to keep from literally burning up. Any skin that got exposed had begun to boil within moments of contact with direct sunlight.

  “Cavok,” Arie whispered, trying to be a bit more discreet than her companion, “we need him. Without his hypnosis, or whatever it is he does to Nomad, we’d stand no chance at containing him. I know it’s hard for you, but don’t chase him off yet.”

  Cavok didn’t answer, but Arie could tell that he was considering any alternatives to having Yozo continuing to work his ritualistic magic on their friend. She assumed he couldn’t think of any as he got up and walked to Nomad to check on him instead of moving to chase off, in Cavok’s own words, ‘the parasite.’

  Cavok stooped under Nomad’s wide brim, taking a peek at the state of his comrade. A champ of teeth and a snarl quickly warded Cavok off, backing up slightly as he considered his edgy friend’s temperament.

  He gave a hard, long look at Yozo who stood thirty feet back, glaring at Cavok with cold, focused eyes. He knew that look—that stare. It was the stare of a predator; one that was not processing emotion or concern for others, even one’s self—only processing how to eliminate their target. It was a look he knew so well because he had often given the same look to his enemies. He knew the look of a killer intimately—because he was one himself.

  “You,” Cavok boomed needlessly, Y
ozo already clearly paying close attention to him. “Do your witchcraft.”

  Yozo waited a moment, whether to defy Cavok in a small way, or to consider approaching Nomad while the hulk loomed close by, it was not clear, but he did begin to walk towards the two, spanning the scorching sands, coming up a whole two heads short next to Cavok’s height.

  The two stared at each other a moment longer, exchanging murderous looks as heat waves swirled around their sweaty brows, the sounds of desert locusts chittering in the distance. Yozo broke eye contact first, looking to Nomad, adjusting the dusty grey cloth that wrapped his whole body, checking his skin for signs of pestilence and blistering.

  Cavok watched as Yozo unstrapped a foldable parasol from his side kit, handing it to Cavok, then knelt down and took out a tin container from one of his backpacks. Cavok extended the well-made parasol and held it over Nomad to shield him from direct sunlight while Yozo began to gently lift Nomad’s prison shirt, revealing his necrotic scar on his back where he had been stabbed by the illimoth blade.

  Yozo inspected it for a moment, keeping his thoughts to himself, then went to pop open the tin container’s lid and dipped a finger in a gel-like substance, drawing a symbol encircling the wound.

  Nomad growled at the touch, quivering slightly, but Yozo began chanting in a language Cavok did not know, though knew it to be Nomad’s people’s language, having heard his companion speak it a few times before. Humming in a trance-like tone, Yozo slowly traced his middle finger over the now dried gel, igniting it in a faint green glow, heavy black fumes seeping from the flame.

  His chanting grew louder, and he swept the flames out in one motion, dropping Nomad’s shirt, moving around to face him. Plucking a powder from the tin, he brought it before Nomad’s face which was currently a dazed grimace, then snapped a finger over the powder, producing green flames atop it, lighting it up in an elongated flash. Yozo blew the grey smoke in Nomad’s face.