Mark of Fire (The Endarian Prophecy Book 1)

by Richard Phillips

  Arn sighed, shook his head, and then turned toward the other two. Perhaps life was easier when the Kanjari wanted to keep his distance. “Kim, you and John, please listen. If Ty and I haven’t returned in three days, leave us. News must get back to Queen Elan.”

  John nodded and extended his hand, which Arn clasped. Kim leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. A sudden bear hug engulfed all three of them as Ty wrapped his big arms around their shoulders and squeezed.

  “Let’s get going,” Ty said, “before all these sad farewells have me bawling like an infant.”

  Following the Kanjari, Arn swung into his saddle and nudged Ax with the heels of his boots, sending the brute cantering downhill after the palomino stallion, heeding the call of a dead city.

  15

  Southern Mogev Desert

  YOR 413, Early Spring

  As they continued traveling westward, Carol did almost nothing but work on new spells. Among the elementals that she had learned to call upon was Lwellen, an air elemental that was the lightning master. And she surprised Hawthorne by mastering the mystic bolt spell, not because the fire elemental, Tirra, was particularly strong, but because it was very cunning. The word slippery came to mind. If it managed to distract her, even for a moment, Tirra could send a blazing shard into something or someone she did not want to hit. She eventually wished to throw at least ten bolts before exhausting herself mentally.

  This morning she decided to check up on Alan. Retiring to a quiet spot by the river, Carol brought herself into the meditative state necessary for projection. Seconds later she cast herself out of her body, feeling the river flee away to the east.

  Below her, she found nothing but a vast, terrible wasteland. What a pity, she realized, that she had to have someplace or someone she knew to focus upon in order to project like this. Otherwise she would have been able to search for the watering holes herself.

  In seconds she saw Derek’s small squad, spread out in a wedge formation across the sand, the horses plodding laboriously forward. As her immaterial self came to a stop directly above Alan, she could see him pull out the small water-scrying stick and place it in a cup. Adding a little water from his canteen, Alan stared downward.

  “The damned thing is pointing back the way we came,” her brother exclaimed. “It’s pointing back toward the river. Leave it to a wielder to come up with a worthless piece of junk like this.”

  He began banging on the side of the cup, trying to get the stick to point to the next watering hole.

  Carol could hardly believe her ears. Of course it would point to the river as long as that was the closest water source. She just hoped that Alan had enough sense to figure that out and keep checking the scryer.

  “Put away the toy, Lord,” said Derek. “We don’t need such nonsense to find what we seek. Magic is only a tool for those who can’t handle the trials of life.”

  Carol fell off the log she was on, landing on her butt in the mud.

  Her father waved at her as she arrived back in camp. “Been out enjoying the sun?”

  “Men!” was all she said as she stormed on by.

  The next day Carol forgot about her irritation at Alan and Derek and set about learning a spell that Hawthorne called “earthen shield.” This spell encased the magic-user’s hand in a thick shell of rock for as long as she could maintain concentration. Anything she struck with her hand during this time suffered damage as if it had been hit with a hammer. For the next several days, a variety of items around the camp took a beating until Carol was banished to trying her skills on rocks and logs along the riverbank.

  Yet all these spells took their toll via mental fatigue. Hawthorne raved about the fact that she managed to practice new spells even though he was drawing upon her strength more heavily than ever in order to maintain his wards.

  At her request, he had shown Carol the technique for creating the wards. The trick was to bind an object to an air elemental that had the capability of creating a lensing effect in the shape the wielder desired. He then used a more powerful earth elemental to bind the lesser being in place. All things within the lens became invisible to magical detection, and even the minds within the bubble were blocked from discovery. Hawthorne had bound the air elemental Mij to the several wagons with earthen bonds, and it was these bindings that Blalock attacked, forcing Hawthorne to periodically repair them.

  Carol was sleeping more—in effect, sleeping for two—and eventually reached a point where she was too tired to practice her spells. She tried again to project in order to find out how Derek and Alan were faring, but found she was unable to maintain the required level of concentration.

  On the evening of the thirteenth day since Rafel had sent the ranger patrols searching for water, one of the squads returned. The men were nearly dead from lack of water and needed rest before making their report. The next morning, they revealed that they had been unable to locate any watering holes. Over the next week, other squads trickled back in with the same story. Then they quit coming.

  Carol slept most of the day, now, and Hawthorne appeared more haggard and thin.

  “We need to be moving on soon,” Carol heard him tell her father one evening, the wielder’s eyes appearing sunken in his head. “I do not know how much longer I can maintain the cloak against Blalock. When it fails, I would rather have more distance between us. While he cannot magically transport himself here, I do not think it would take him and his men long to catch up with us.”

  “You mean him and the king’s men, don’t you?” Rafel asked.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Hawthorne responded.

  “Whatever you mean, we can’t move until we have a route. I don’t intend to cause everyone in the caravan to die of thirst in that desert. I would rather die fighting.”

  Carol had to agree. They had already lost a half dozen wagons to accidents that killed thirteen people, most of the deaths occurring when a mudslide swept into the left flank of the caravan during a rainstorm.

  Three days later Derek’s squad returned. Upon reaching camp, Derek and Alan turned their horses over to grooms to be cared for and went to meet with Rafel. Carol heard that they had arrived and went to join them. As she approached the spot where they stood with her father and Broderick, she heard Derek speak.

  “We found a route, or rather we found three watering holes heading in the direction we want to go. The first one is about a week’s travel by wagon from here. We would have never found it, but for the wielder’s little gadget.”

  “How’s that?” Rafel asked.

  “We were traveling along, checking the thing every day. For the first few days it just pointed back toward the river. Then on the morning of the fourth day the scryer pointed off to the southwest. For two more days we followed the device. When we checked the water scryer on the sixth day, it pointed back toward the river again. Alan almost threw the damned thing away, but we decided to backtrack and see if perhaps we had passed the watering hole.

  “After traveling several hours and watching the scryer closely, it suddenly changed direction, again pointing to the southwest. We turned around once more, and the device immediately switched back toward the river. It was then that we figured that perhaps there was an underground stream.

  “We started digging. About ten feet down we hit damp sand. Another three feet and we had a little well. After that we headed west once more and managed to locate two other places with water. Both of these were at the surface and did not require much effort to find.”

  “Great news,” said Rafel. “Broderick, get everyone packed up and ready to depart. We’re leaving within the hour. And I want to make sure we get those other three missing squads back in. If they’re dead, then I want their bones. I will not leave my people to rot in this deep-spawned desert. Also, I’ve reconsidered my order preventing Derek from looking for his brother. Alan and the rest of the squad can guide us back to the watering holes.”

  A relieved look of gratitude spread across Derek’s face. “Thank y
ou, High Lord. I will leave immediately.” With that, he turned on his heel and strode away.

  Carol walked back to her tent and began packing her things. Men and women began bustling around the camp, and the clank of things being loaded echoed in the air. She had finished rolling and strapping her tent when Jake arrived to help her toss it on the back of the wagon. Shortly after that he disappeared, only to return carrying another tent and followed closely by Lucy.

  “Gaar’s been too busy to start my training like he promised,” said Jake. “So I’ve been assigned to help the cooks, if you can believe that.”

  The look of disgust on Jake’s face amused Carol. “Don’t worry, young warrior. I’m sure you’ll get more excitement than you bargained for by the time this journey is over.”

  Carol noticed that she had more energy today. Evidently something had distracted Blalock from his search, allowing Hawthorne to catch a little rest. At least he wasn’t drawing on her strength at the moment. Her strength. That thought pulled forth the memory of what Kaleal had said about her role as an agent in Landrel’s prophecy.

  What did fate have in store for her?

  Her father’s caravan was so far from Tal by now that Blalock’s pursuit made no sense. King Gilbert should be glad that Rafel and his legion had fled the kingdom. Blalock’s persistence meant that the king continued to consider her father a threat, despite the distance that separated them.

  Hawthorne had said that Rafel had presented Landrel’s scroll to the Endarian queen at the start of the Vorg War. That had been five years before Carol was born. Was there a connection, or was she merely grasping at smoke?

  Since such line of thinking rapidly went nowhere, Carol decided to get in some practice with her spells as they rode. She conjured a small dust devil that swirled along after the wagon, occasionally passing it, only to circle back around.

  “Would you look at that?” Lucy said. “I’ve never seen a dust devil hold together that long. If I didn’t know better, I would swear it was following our wagon.”

  “Well, let’s see if I can get rid of it,” Carol said.

  Holding her concentration, she diverted most of her willpower into the magic bolt spell. She extended her hands, and five silvery streaks darted out into the swirling tower of sand before ensnaring the lightning master, Lwellen. She manipulated the elementals in an intricate dance, such that lightning seemed to sprout from the dust devil like arms stretched out in supplication to the heavens. Then, she allowed the whole thing to dissipate with a booming crash of thunder.

  Lucy screamed as she dived into the back of the wagon.

  Sight of the distressed girl wrung a twinge of guilt from Carol’s conscience. “I’m very sorry, Lucy. I should have warned you that I would be practicing some of my spells. I forgot that Jake has seen me practice, but you haven’t.”

  “You scared me out of five years of life,” the girl said, slowly crawling out of the wagon.

  “I never figured that driving a wagon would be this entertaining,” Jake ventured as he turned his attention back to the team of oxen. Before Lucy could respond, he flapped the reins and let out a yell. “Hyaaaa . . .”

  Ignoring his yells, the oxen kept to their steady, plodding pace.

  The wagons traveled through the desert uneventfully. The dunes ranged in size from smaller than a wagon to larger than a house. In between the dunes, the sand was relatively hard-packed, enabling the wagons to roll without much difficulty. The sand was intermittently covered by a thick mass of thorny plants, offering thin branches covered with long, sharp spikes. Cactus and wide, spiny grasses were abundant. Someone came up with the idea of burning the needles off the cactus, enabling the hungry animals to eat the plants, and although this helped, the horses and oxen got steadily thinner.

  The days were getting hotter, so Rafel ordered the caravan to travel in the mornings and evenings. During the midday hours, his people rested, crawling under the wagons to escape the beating sun. The water barrels were still holding out well, but the high lord enforced strict conservation.

  At the rest stop on the sixteenth day of desert travel, Derek returned with Jaradin and his team. Carol went to meet them as soon as she learned of their arrival. She reached her father’s wagon just as Alan and Gaar approached. Rafel’s advisors, along with Derek and Jaradin, were already there.

  “I don’t know why you sent Derek out at all,” Jaradin said. “The day I need my little brother to look after me is the day I end all endeavors and haul out the rocking chair.”

  “What delayed you?” Broderick asked.

  “That is a tale that takes some telling. We were three days’ ride to the north, getting ready to head back, when we sighted a nomad caravan moving south along the river. We decided to ride down and learn more. I left two of my team behind to watch for signs of trouble, with instructions to head back and tell you if we couldn’t get out.

  “When we rode into the camp, they were pretty jumpy about strangers but gradually settled down when they saw that we had friendly intentions. It seems they had run across a group with bad intentions, a couple of barbarians, an Endarian, and a knife fighter. I couldn’t get a lot of details about how the fight got started, but apparently, there was a contest between the knife fighter and their champion. What had them rattled was that the knife fighter managed to kill their man.”

  “Why is that?” Rafel asked.

  “That was our question, too,” Jaradin said. “So they took us to a wagon that was carrying their man’s body to their burial ground. Once we saw him we understood. The man was a giant, eight feet tall and the strongest-looking human I’ve ever seen. The nomads said the dead fighter was as fast as he was strong. He’d evidently killed more than a hundred people, so you can start to get an idea why they were so shocked to see his life bleed away into the dirt.”

  “Did they give you a description of the one who killed him?” Gaar asked.

  “They did better than that. They gave me this.”

  Jaradin unfolded a paper, spreading it against the side of Rafel’s wagon so they could all see.

  Carol gasped. The shock that registered on the faces of the others showed that they did not catch the sound. There, on a wanted poster, beneath the offer of a thousand gold for proof of the man’s death, was Arn’s picture, right above the name “BLADE.”

  “That can’t be.” Carol’s voice was barely a whisper, but it roused her father out of his shock.

  Rafel turned, placing a strong hand on her shoulder as he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Arn isn’t after us. It was he that warned me of the king’s edict. I tried, unsuccessfully, to convince him to come with us.”

  “That explains it, then.” Broderick slapped his palm onto the wagon. “Blade must have stumbled into those nomads by accident. No wonder their hero got himself killed.”

  “What about Arn?” Carol asked.

  “I don’t think we need to worry about Blade anymore. The nomads seemed sure that he had inflicted a mortal wound on himself to get the giant,” Jaradin replied. “Just to be safe, however, we rode another couple of days to the north to the place where the fight had occurred. Then we picked up the old trail left by Blade’s bunch.

  “We followed it north for three more days. There was no sign of Blade’s body, but the pattern of their camps indicated that he was badly hurt. A strange circle of dead plants appeared at one of the sites. Weird thing. None of us had seen anything like it. If Blade’s not dead, then he’s headed north.”

  “You don’t need to worry about Blade,” Rafel said. “He’s like my second son. He would never hurt me. And I refuse to believe that he’s dead. He has cheated the Dread Lord all his life, and I have no reason to believe that has changed.”

  Carol stumbled away from the others in a daze. She barely realized when she reached her wagon. Ignoring Jake’s and Lucy’s concerned inquiries, Carol climbed into the back and sat, hugging her knees, among the crates and barrels.

  Arn dead. The thought s
truck her like a stone. She had been so occupied with the caravan’s flight these last few weeks that she’d easily kept herself from thinking about him. But that had only been because the thought of his death never occurred to her. Blade had always seemed invulnerable to the death that he doled out. After all the tales about him surviving impossible situations, could he have succumbed to fate at last?

  Carol moved her head violently, trying desperately to banish the terrible thought. Her throat constricted as she wiped away tears with the back of her hand. No. Arn is not dead. I won’t believe it. Suddenly an idea came to her. She could project out-of-body and will herself to him. For the first time, she would take an astral look at the man she loved.

  Carol soon gained full enough control of her emotions to achieve the desired state of meditation. She reached out with her mind, feeling for the presence that was Arn, a presence that would give her something to focus on.

  But she felt nothing.

  He simply was not there, as if he’d been sucked through a hole in the universe. That feeling of total absence broke her meditation.

  He was dead. There was no other explanation for the complete void that she felt. Even through the barrier that she and Hawthorne had erected, a user of magic could feel a known person’s presence. Only the sense of direction would be lacking. But this nothingness could only mean one thing. Arn was dead.

  A low wail escaped Carol’s lips. Immediately, Jake jumped onto the wagon and raised the flap to look inside.

  “Lorness, are you all right?” he asked.

  “Just leave me alone!” Carol snapped. “I just want to be alone.”

  The handsome youth drew back as if he’d been bitten. The canvas flap dropped once more, leaving her in the hot semidarkness.

  Carol was unable to shake the severe depression into which she had fallen. She submerged herself in the practice of magic to such an extent that Hawthorne became worried. She ignored the hot trek through the desert, and Jake and Lucy avoided Carol as she withdrew. To gain some semblance of privacy for her magic, Carol often created a wall of fog around the area where she was practicing.