Kian’s eyes went wide with surprise. “K’xarr, look.” They all gazed at the beautiful woman’s arm and the black blood seeping through her fingers.
K’xarr had asked Siro to bind the woman’s wound. Vandarus rode back to camp and gathered what was left of the chicken he had roasted to give to the children.
There was little left, so the Bandaran made a stew, adding wild onions and some salt. The children looked at the young man as he cooked like he was a saint descended from Heaven. When it was finished, they fell on it like wild animals, cleaning up every last drop.
Kian and Rufio built the fire up and tended to the horses, then they helped Cromwell drag the priests’ bodies away from the camp.
“I am finished, K’xarr. Her wound was minor, just a few stitches. I find the blood very intriguing, though.”
He didn’t answer the healer. K’xarr stood with his arms folded, his focus was entirely on the woman. “Okay, sit down, I need some answers. Let me ask my questions and we won’t trouble you anymore.”
She shook her raven black hair out of her face, and K’xarr could see the defiance in the woman’s eyes. “Will you at least give me the chance to put my clothes back on?”
K’xarr smiled. “If you must.” He gestured to a pile of clothing he saw laying on the ground.
The woman pulled on a pair of soft leather pants and a short-sleeve chainmail shirt, then a leather vest with steel pauldrons laced onto the vest’s shoulders.
“May I have my sword back?” the woman asked as she strapped a pair of steel bracers to her wrists.
“As you please,” K’xarr said.
She picked up the sword. It was a beautifully made bastard sword, a weapon few women would have the strength to use. She slid the blade into the scabbard at her side. Sitting down on a fallen log, she pulled on her high boots.
K’xarr watched as she stood up, hand on her sword hilt, mammoth cape waving slightly with the night breeze and those eyes like cold black steel. K’xarr thought she looked like a woman no man would ever conquer.
“Now that you’re more comfortable, first things first: what’s your name?”
“Endra Korlest of Sorrack.”
“You’re a long way from home, Endra. Why is that?”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “I want to know why what I am doing is such an interest to a bunch of mercenaries.”
“Who said we were mercenaries?” Cromwell asked.
“I know a sell-sword when I see one, Toran.” She shook her head. “I think that’s all the questions I want to answer. The children and I will be leaving now.”
K’xarr stepped in front of her as she started to walk away. “You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers, wench.”
Endra’s hand shot to her sword hilt and before K’xarr could move, she drew the blade straight up and hit him under the chin with the pommel, busting it open and causing K’xarr to bite his tongue.
He put his hand over his mouth but it was too late, black blood dripped down his chin. Endra stepped back, leveling her sword at K’xarr.
“By all the gods, what evil is this? You are the one that did this to me?” Endra raised her blade to strike a killing blow to K’xarr’s head. Cromwell grabbed her arm just in time, holding her back from his friend. As strong as she was, her strength was no match for the Toran’s.
“What in the hell are you doing, you crazy bitch? None of us have done anything to you,” K’xarr said, holding his busted chin.
Cromwell wrenched the sword from the woman’s hand and pushed her away. “Calm down, woman, and tell us what you’re talking about. K’xarr and I both carry the same blood curse as you do. All we want to know is if you can tell us anything about where it comes from.”
As he finished, Cromwell looked around and saw Rufio and Vandarus both staring at him. Siro stood just out of the fire light with a look of amusement on his face.
Their secret was out, and Cromwell gawked at K’xarr with an apologetic look on his face. “They would have found out sooner or later, K’xarr.”
The Camiran closed his eyes and shook his head.
Endra backed away from them. “You two were cursed by the man in the black armor?”
K’xarr could see the woman was confused and for the first time, fear crossed her face.
Siro handed K’xarr a rag to hold on his chin, the cut was wide but not deep.
“If you would stop attacking me for a few minutes, I will tell you our tale and we can sort this all out. You are the first we have ever seen with the blood.”
K’xarr’s bleeding had all but stopped. He handed the rag back to Siro, and the little healer casually tucked it into his pocket.
K’xarr turned to his companions. “Rufio, Vandarus, and Siro, you all should hear this too. Kian, you already know, but you should listen, I will tell this tale only once. When I’m finished, Endra, I hope you will tell us your story and what you know of this curse.”
The woman did not answer. She only looked at him and sat down on the other side of the fire, the children gathering around her with the girl sitting on her lap and the boys to either side.
K’xarr watched as the men in the group all found a place around the fire to listen. “When I’m finished, any of you who want to leave can go with no hard feelings, if you choose.”
K’xarr began pacing back and forth. He had tried to forget all of it, but now like a malevolent ghost, the past had come back to haunt him. The tale was painful for him, though he would never admit that.
“Neither Cromwell nor I know why we have this cursed blood. We were both born on the Harsh Coast, I in Camir and Cromwell in Tora. I will not attempt to tell his story. I can only tell mine.
“As long as I can remember, my blood has been black. I know of no other consequence to the curse than our blood is a different color than other men. I lived among the Camirans until I was seventeen. I lived under the suspicion of our village elders since I was a child. My parents were never kind to me, only caring for me as much as they had to, to keep me alive. To this day, I’m not sure if they even were my parents.
“In Camir, every warrior is needed to fight off the rival villages and raiding parties. If not for that fact, I would have been put to death as an infant. Whenever anything bad happened in the village, I was blamed. My father and the elders often discussed the idea of killing me. It didn’t matter how many times I fought for our village, I was never part of it.” K’xarr paused. There was no need to get into details of the night he left home. No one listening would understand. “One night I just left and fled to the mountains, living alone for a very long time with only starvation and death to keep me company.
“As I got older, I journeyed west. Some time ago, before I sailed away from the Harsh Coast, I happened to run across a man who told me a story about a monster that lived in the mountains of Tora. He said the Blood Clan was offering a large bounty for anyone who could kill it.
“I was young and foolish and needed coin, so I went into the mountains to kill the creature. As you can see, I did find the monster.” K’xarr looked at Cromwell. The Toran hung his head and would not look anyone in the eyes. “After we tried to kill each other, we talked; his story was little different than mine. We decided to travel together and here we are, end of story.”
K’xarr walked over and gave Cromwell a soft kick in the leg. “You want to tell them your tale now?”
Cromwell looked up at his friend. “No, I do not.”
K’xarr nodded his understanding.
“We don’t know anything about the curse, where it came from, or why only we have it.” K’xarr looked at Endra. “Now that we have found another like us, you can give some of the answers to our questions. That’s why I tried to stop you from leaving.”
The woman just looked at the men on the other side of the fire, keeping her thoughts to herself.
Endra felt that perhaps she had misjudged this group of men. They were mercenaries and there were few races of warriors more ruth
less than the Torans and Camirians. They didn’t act like their countrymen or she might have already been raped and killed, not necessarily in that order.
The men had shared their food and bound her wound. She held no grudge about the cut. She deserved it. After all, she had tried to kill their leader. She felt lucky she hadn’t lost her head.
There was something about the men that made her feel comfortable, almost drawn to them. Maybe it was the blood?
The mercenaries had to be tolerant, they traveled with a half-elf. Even the hunters of Sorrack shunned those creatures, not that any had ventured into their lands, but their kind was known.
It was said they were evil, though she did not get that kind of feeling from this one. The half-elf had helped her fight the Hands. What could it hurt to tell them what had happened to her? It was a very personal story, but she hadn’t been able to talk to anyone about what had happened in five years.
She had only the children to keep her company, and she had never been able to risk talking with anyone. The danger was too great. She had only told it once and had been imprisoned for it. This wasn’t the ideal audience, but she might never get another chance, and someone in the world should know the truth so they could warn others.
Endra decided she would tell her story and see if they believed her. Few people would and she wouldn’t blame them. It had happened to her and she could barely believe it. Besides, the one called K’xarr said they would leave if she told them what she knew of the blood.
“I will tell you what I know.”
K’xarr looked at the woman. “It’s the right decision. We can both benefit from sharing what we know.”
“Maybe, but my story is nothing like yours.”
Kian put more wood on the fire. Shadows danced all around the small patch of woods as she began.
“I don’t think I have any answers for you, but you can judge for yourself.”
She got up from where she sat, putting the little girl between the boys. The larger of the two put his arm around the girl, and she leaned against him, yawning.
“I can tell you that I was not born with this blood like you two were. I was a normal girl until I was fifteen, that’s when it happened. Let me start from the beginning.” Endra ran her hands through her thick hair. It had been so long since she had spoken with adults.
“In Sorrack, we are all hunters like the Toran said. The young must hunt small game on their own until they are asked to join the elders on a true hunt.
“In my fifteenth year, my father and uncle told me it was my time. I was eager to go on my first hunt. In my land, it is a very prestigious thing when a young man or woman is first asked to accompany their elders.
“My mother thought I was too young but Father told her I was ready and she said no more, though I knew that didn’t mean she would not worry about me. I was her youngest daughter. I gathered my weapons and warm furs, and the hunting party left the next morning.
“Three days north of the village, we came across the tracks of a mammoth herd. We followed the herd’s trail until my uncle spotted the tracks of a white dragon.”
“I have never seen a dragon,” Kian chimed in.
“Be quiet so you can hear about one then,” snapped K’xarr.
The half-elf winced. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright, not many have seen a true dragon. They are as rare to find as a…half-elf.”
Kian’s lips tightened and he nodded to the woman.
“There were only ten of us in our hunting party, but my uncle said he could tell by the tracks that the dragon was very young and there were enough of us to kill it. So we left the mammoth trail and started following the dragon’s tracks.
“I was very excited to go on a dragon hunt, it is a very big honor among my people to kill one.”
“Are there many dragons in your land, Endra?” Vandarus asked.
“Yes, but they are all of the white variety, though I have heard of the odd black one passing.”
Vandarus elbowed Rufio and grinned like a school boy. “I love tales about dragons.”
Endra stared at them momentarily, surprised by the young man’s excitement.
“Anyway, later that afternoon, we came across some strange tracks in the snow. The men talked it over and decided the tracks were from a horse. The odd thing was that the snow and ice was melted around the outside of the tracks. It put us on our guard, very few in our land ride horses or even own one, and none of the elders could figure out what had caused the snow to melt.
“We followed the dragon tracks for two more days, and the horse tracks paralleled us the whole time, yet we never saw anyone.
“On the third day, we found the beast’s lair: a large ice cave. Before we could make a plan on how to flush it out, the dragon emerged from its cave. It was a young male. It was larger than my uncle had thought, at least twenty-five or thirty feet long.
“The thing attacked and killed three of us with its tail and claws before we could even ready our weapons. I was afraid. I had never been that close to a living dragon before. I found my courage and hurled a spear, striking the beast in the chest. The dragon seemed unhurt by my spear or the arrows shot into it by the other hunters. Our attacks only infuriated the beast. I saw my father die as the monster leaped on him and ripped him apart with its great claws. As I ran over to where he lay dead, the dragon whipped its scaly tail around and grazed my head, knocking me down. I tried to shake off the blow but I was dazed, all I could do was roll around in the bloody snow, trying to get back on my feet and clear my head.”
Endra realized her voice had begun to sound as if she was pleading as the memory of her father found its way to the surface of her thoughts. She took a breath, trying to relax and go on.
“When I got back up, I saw it was using its icy breath on my uncle. White dragons can freeze the very air with their cold exhalations. My uncle, the best hunter in our village, fell to the ground dead, encased in the dragon’s bitter ice. I looked around for help, but no one was left alive but me.
“As the monster turned toward me, baring its dagger-like fangs and clawing at the ground, I lost my courage. I began to back away as fast as I could. That’s when I saw him. The dragon did too.
“He was on the most frightening horse I ever saw. It was black and huge. When it whinnied, I could see its teeth had been filed into points. I swear by the gods, its eyes glowed with a faint red light. Every time the animal’s hooves struck the frozen ground, flames appeared around them, making the snow hiss. As it came closer, I could smell the stench of carrion. As terrifying as the horse was, the man himself was more so.
“He was covered in black armor from head to toe, only his great biceps and shoulders were bare. A dark helmet covered his entire face, it was crested with some kind of hair and had bull horns on the sides, and through the helmet’s eye slits I saw only darkness.
“He had a huge sword strapped to his side, the pommel was made from the skull of an infant with dark hair still hanging from its scalp. He slid from the horse easily and as gracefully as if he wore no armor at all. He was tall, taller than you, Toran.”
“Damn, was it a giant? I have yet to see a man taller than me.”
K’xarr just looked at him. “Fine, I’ll be quiet,” Cromwell said, frowning.
Endra continued. “As he came towards the dragon, he drew his great sword. The blade was black and I felt ill when I looked at it. He rammed the infernal blade into the ground and stalked toward the dragon unarmed. I was frozen with fear but could not look away.”
“The dragon turned away from me and looked at the man walking through the snow, and I swear it started to back up. By the Old Gods, the beast seemed to be afraid of the man approaching it.”
“Instinct must have overcome its fear, because the dragon lunged at the huge man, razor-sharp teeth bared and claws ready to shred his foe.”
“The man caught the dragon by the neck midway through its attack. The muscles in his massive arms tightened, and I saw
his fingers plunge through the dragon’s scales into its neck. I thought I must be dreaming, he was strangling the beast; this was not a man. No human has ever had strength like that.”
“He pulled the beast’s head down and wrapped his massive arms around the dragon’s neck, pulling until I heard its bones break.”
“He watched as the dragon rolled onto its back, thrashing around in its death throes. I couldn’t run or speak as he walked over to where I stood. He spoke, but I only remember a little of what he said.”
Endra closed her eyes as she recalled his words. “'I have searched the world over for one that has the strength to endure. You, Daughter of the White Waste, are that one. Your beauty and grace will serve me well. That is what I will call you: Grace, the name suits you well.'
“He picked me up and carried me into the ice cave. I tried to struggle, but it was no use, his grip was like iron.”
“The man made a fire by simply touching his hand to the cave floor. He bid me sit by the magical blaze. I did as I was told, too afraid not to obey.”
“The cave grew very warm and I started to become lightheaded. I don’t know if it was the blow from the dragon’s tail or some kind of spell he cast on me. I remember him removing my armor and my clothing. He laid me down on my furs naked, but I did not feel the cold. It was as if I was falling asleep.”
“He removed his armor and helmet. I could see his face. He had long thick black hair and he was handsome, not the monster I had imagined…but his eyes. They were so dark. I could sense something terrible and wicked behind his black eyes. Even when he smiled, I could sense the hostility inside him.”
Endra’s face grew red with embarrassment, but she had gone this far with the story, she would finish it. “He was immense all over, and I was frightened, yet I could not move, and then he took me.”
“I remember little of it, just the screaming and the pain. I was a virgin and it was my first time with a man…or whatever it was.”
“I awoke later to find him back in his armor and astride the evil horse. He said, ‘Fare thee well, Grace, blood of my blood. We are bonded forever now, girl, hold your head high and walk with pride for I have chosen you above all other women of this world.’ He rode away to the south and the cave grew cold. I mourned my father and uncle and the men from my village. I placed their bodies in the ice cave and covered them the best I could.”
DAWN OF THE PHOENIX (Gods Of The Forever Sea Book 1) Page 16
