Rise of the Serpent (Serpent's War Book 2)

by Jason Halstead

  Corian rolled his eyes. “All well and good,” he muttered. “If we’ve got weeks of travel ahead of us, we should find some horses for Jilly and me.”

  “I agree,” Namitus said.

  “We can’t afford horses!” Allie protested.

  “I can,” Amra offered. “You can consider them a loan.”

  Namitus turned so he could peer back at her. “You can?”

  “Yes,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I came into a small bit of gold before I started this journey with you.”

  Namitus grunted to hide his chuckle. “Very well. We’ll see what steeds we can find in the next town. Pity though, I’d give much for a unicorn to keep us company.”

  “You’ve ridden a unicorn?” Allie gasped.

  Namitus grinned and began to tell her the tale of Alto and Winter, the unicorn that saved the young warrior only to leave him soon after to be with another.

  * * * *

  Namitus stirred the logs burning in the firepit, kicking sparks into the air. One of them landed near his grandmother’s thin blanket, inviting him to study her. The night was half spent and, judging by the stars and moon, he was nearing the end of his watch.

  He studied her sleeping face, his elven features picking through the shadows cast by the trees at the roadside oasis. Other travelers and merchants stopped to camp for the night, ignoring one another out of mutual respect or disdain while they watered their mounts and refilled their waterskins. Each group had a watch posted, making certain none of the other travelers had the urge to wander.

  A scuffle of a body moving drew Namitus’s attention across to the other side of the fire. Amra rolled over and sat up. She was looking away from him at first, but turned her head to take in the quiet and cool surroundings. As hot as the desert grew at day, it could drop to near frigid temperatures in the dead of the night. Amra saw him and drew her blanket around herself and rose up.

  “You should sleep,” Namitus whispered when she came over and sat next to him with a grimace.

  “I can’t,” she said. “Too sore.”

  He gave her a half smile and nodded.

  “So tell me about her,” Amra coaxed.

  “I’m sorry?”

  Amra nodded at Jillystria. “Your grandmother. How is it you recognize her but she doesn’t know you?”

  “I could be wrong,” he admitted.

  “You don’t think so.”

  He chuckled under his breath. “You see things most miss. Yes, I’m sure of it. She looks like my mother.”

  “Wait—you said you were orphaned?”

  “My parents left me with my mother’s parents—on her father’s side. It’s confusing, I know, but they had hard travels ahead and feared for my safety.”

  “Did they?”

  Namitus tilted his head. “What’s your thoughts?”

  “Well.” Amra shrugged her shoulders. “If I had a child, I wouldn’t want anyone to be with them other than me. Seems...I don’t know, selfish, maybe?”

  Namitus glanced at Jillystria and nodded. “Perhaps.”

  “What of your grandfather?”

  “I don’t know. Killed before I was born. An accident, I was told.”

  “And she’s here now,” Amra added.

  “So she is,” Namitus agreed. “To what purpose or end I can only guess.”

  “You have a guess?” she asked. “That’s something.”

  “You’ve heard a little about this nonsense of half-bloods? Well, perhaps some forty years later she’s developed a conscience and has come to check on her daughter.”

  Amra shook her head and said, “Forty years. That’s almost as long as my dad’s been alive.”

  “I’m nearing thirty myself,” Namitus admitted. “And not a one of them dull.”

  “If half the stories you told are true, I bet not. I especially enjoyed the one where you were teaching the merchant’s son while your friend accidentally started a fire that burnt his house down around you. Did you really save the entire family?”

  “And the merchant’s ledgers,” Namitus said with a nod. “He’d have been lost without them.”

  “You’re quite the hero.”

  Namitus chuckled. “No, my friends are. I just have Saint Dice’s favor to be in the right place at the right time. Alto, now he’s a man who makes the dice roll for him, no matter what the odds.”

  “He sounds...”

  “Noble,” Namitus said. He chuckled. “No better way to put it. He was born a farmer and has his feet in the mud still, reminding himself of it every step of the way.”

  “Ah, to lead such a charmed life,” she sighed.

  “Hardly,” Namitus said. “His adventures and victories weren’t without cost. His family was butchered by the Order for his actions. His sister escaped only because he stopped them from killing her after they were finished using her body.”

  Amra’s eyes widened and her hand flew to cover her gasp.

  Namitus nodded. “Now she’s gotten her head twisted around and works for the same snakes that condoned her torture and murder years past.”

  “Splisskin?”

  “What? No, sorry. Snakes as in treacherous bastards,” he said. He smiled and added, “Pardon my language.”

  “No pardon needed,” Amra said. “You know, when I met you before, I had no idea what to think of you. What man would dress as a woman?”

  “It was a disguise!”

  She smiled. “I know. But you wore it well. And then you brought us hope of something better. A brighter future, but it seemed so unrealistic that we doubted.”

  “Looks like it was unrealistic,” he said.

  “Through no fault of your own,” she said in his defense. “You gave us the means; it was the Shadows and the corrupt guardsmen that put an end to our attempts to come together.”

  Namitus shrugged. “We should have come back sooner, or at least I should have. I wasn’t needed in the north after Sarya and Rosalyn were defeated.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Who are they?”

  “Sarya was the dragon Alto defeated to save Patrina. I helped...a little. Rosalyn was the witch who channeled the defeated dragon’s essence and risked returning her to the world. I definitely helped with that.”

  Amra laughed. “You seem awfully worried about receiving credit.”

  Namitus frowned and considered her words.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” she said when he didn’t respond right away.

  “No,” Namitus said. “You’re right. Observant again. I suppose I haven’t done a lot of things in my life most people would be proud of.”

  “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who has ever done anything bad,” Amra challenged.

  Namitus smiled. “I was a runaway and a thief as a child. I left when I’d angered too many people in and out of the Shadows. Spent the next few years living a lie and hurting good people because of it. Then I met Alto.”

  “Are you really that hard on yourself, or are you trying to win my sympathy?”

  Namitus gaped at her and shook his head. “You’re too young to be so worldly.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve had to fill in for my mother and grow up fast.”

  Namitus’s eyes widened. “Fill in for your mother? Um...how, exactly?”

  Amra blinked and managed to muffle her giggles with her hand. “Not like that!” she said when she could speak again. “My father would never...he’s my father!”

  Namitus breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t gotten along with Lyden the first time very well, but this time things had gone better. He was glad he didn’t have to revise his opinion of the man further.

  They sat in silence and, after a few minutes, Amra leaned her head into Namitus’s side. He glanced at her, marveling at her odd mixture of youth and perception. She was a clever girl. She would make some lucky man a fine catch one day. Assuming he didn’t get her killed first.

  “So what are we going to do?” she asked him after she burrowed in so that
he was forced to drape his arm over her shoulder.

  “My mission is to find out more about the Order,” Namitus said. “I hadn’t intended to drag you along. I hope it’s not dangerous, but that’s the flip side of the coin where I’m often in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Amra said.

  “Is that right?” he asked.

  She nodded. “My father taught me how to keep ruffians and thieves away. Give me a knife or a club and I’ll show you a thing or two.”

  He struggled to keep his smile off his face. “You’ll have to show me that sometime,” he said. “I could stand to learn a few new tricks.”

  “Oh, I could teach you all right,” she said.

  Namitus smiled and returned his attention to the surrounding camps. Amra shifted, cuddling against his side and sharing her warmth with him. He kept his attention away, pretending to ignore her. She was a delightful distraction, but one he had to be careful with. Amra was a merchant’s daughter and had goals all her own. She wasn’t like Patrina or Aleena. Her life would be best served with craft and skill, not wandering the world in search of the next adventure.

  Chapter 5

  “I think I preferred the desert,” Amra complained as she stared at the tall trees and thick undergrowth on either side of the road.

  “Aye, the Island of Britanly was like this,” Namitus mused. He drew in a breath but Amra squeezed his sides with her hands.

  “We’ve heard that story,” she reminded him. “Are you finally running out?”

  Namitus snorted. “Of course not! I haven’t even begun to touch on the troll shaman yet.”

  “What was that?”

  Namitus turned and looked over at Corian. The elf’s face contorted as he pushed his tired legs to keep up. A day or two of walking was one thing, but this was their third and both of the elves were showing signs of tiring. Their next destination, the city of Greyfall, lay ahead of them close enough the traffic on the road had increased. He’d get mounts for the elves there.

  “A troll?” Corian asked as he caught up to Namitus and Amra.

  “Yes, not the sort of slobbering and dangerous troll you’d expect,” the rogue said. He reconsidered his words and grinned. “Well, maybe he is, but he wasn’t a mountain troll with hide as hard as stone; he was a swamp troll, yet not like any you’re likely to meet.”

  “I met a troll,” Corian whispered.

  “What’s that?” Namitus asked. “You have? Well good! You know what I’m talking about then. Except as I said, this shaman is not like any other swamp-dwelling fiend. He seems to show up in the most unusual places and always offers some sort of boon. He’s even helped us out once, during our forays into Mira when we fought the Order.”

  “A shaman,” Corian muttered. “Of Saint Jarook?”

  Namitus stopped talking and tilted his head. “Why yes, he was. I take it the troll you met had an even more unusual goblin manservant with him?”

  “Thork.”

  Namitus chuckled. “I shouldn’t be surprised. There are indeed greater forces at work.”

  “What are you talking about?” Amra asked.

  “Thork is no mere shaman of the saint of fear,” the rogue explained. “Or at least we expect he’s far more than that. He shows up at the most opportune times and, though he seems to have his own agenda, it seems to mesh with ours. Did he, perchance, give you anything?”

  Corian’s eyes widened and his face paled. His hand slid to the hilt of the dagger at his side. He drew it and held it up. “He gave me this.”

  Namitus held his hand out. “May I?”

  Corian reversed the dagger and took care to keep the edge from touching him. “Be careful, it’s sharper than anything I’ve ever seen before.”

  Namitus pulled his hand back and shook his head. “I don’t need to see it. Damn that troll!”

  “I thought you said he was helpful?” Amra asked.

  Namitus sighed. “That dagger is the tooth of a dragon.”

  “He said that!” Corian cried.

  Namitus nodded. “It’s more dangerous than you can imagine. Well, a little less so now, but still, it might as well be a curse upon you.”

  “What? Why?” Corian glanced at Jillystria, who walked up beside him. Allie had ridden closer as well, leaving only Gor to ride behind. “What treachery is this? The troll saved my life after I collapsed chasing my sister’s captors. Why would he do that only to betray me?”

  “A wound made with that knife won’t heal. It has a thirst that goes back to the dragon it came from. A thirst that lasts forever. Or at least until the blade claims a life.”

  “I don’t understand,” Corian said.

  “Alto’s sister was bewitched by the Order and—”

  “Wait, you said she wasn’t?” Amra argued. “I’m so confused!”

  “Sorry.” He sighed. “You’re right, I did say that. She’s not now, but when we came here and rescued her from the dungeons of Mira, she was. Under her magical compulsion, she had that same dagger and used it to stab Patrina.”

  Allie gasped. “Is she...”

  “She lived, but it took Karthor, our healer, every spare bit of priestly magic he had to keep her thus until the dagger was used to kill Lord Shazamir—by Alto, of course. Then the magical hold on Patrina’s wound was gone and she could heal.”

  “So this blade opens a wound that will not heal?” Corian stared at it.

  “I advise you not to shave with it,” Namitus said.

  Corian snorted. “I’m an elf. I have no need of such crude behavior.”

  Neither did Namitus, but he chose to ignore the ignorant comment. Instead, he nodded towards the blade the elf held. “Take care with that. Even a nick will seep blood until it claims a life.”

  Corian returned the dagger to his holster and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. I prefer my bow anyhow.”

  Namitus nodded. “A good bowman is hard to find.”

  Rather than accept the compliment, Corian snorted. “Not among elves it isn’t.”

  “What I don’t understand is why this troll would show up and help,” Amra asked.

  Namitus shrugged. “It’s anyone’s guess as to what could set a troll on such a path. He’s remarkable enough in that he rose above his grunting kin to become a shaman.”

  “No, I mean why would he choose to help Corian if he’s been helping your friends?”

  “Ah.” Namitus sighed. “That brings me back to wondering what mysterious forces are at work. Alto, for example, gained the favor of Saint Leander, Saint Jarook, and Saint Preth during his quest to defeat Sarya.”

  “That’s preposterous!” Corian snapped. “Those saints would never work together.”

  “On my word as a...well, as a knight of Altonia,” Namitus insisted. “Alto’s sword was forged with the aid of a wizard, a priest of Leander, and Thork. And the aid of several other friends of ours: a barbarian from the northern tribes and a dwarf who came north to reclaim the lost dwarven kingdom under the Northern Divide. Alto’s blood was used to quench the blade, binding it to him in body and soul.”

  “My brother has a point,” Jillystria said. “It is a far-fetched notion that the saint of fear and the saint of honesty, duty, and light would join forces.”

  The rogue smiled. “Do evil men feel fear? Does a child fear going too far from home for fear of getting lost or worse? Does a cruel tyrant fear that one day he will be overthrown?”

  “Of course,” Corian said.

  Jillystria spoke before Corian could continue. “I see your wisdom. Saint Jarook is, perhaps, misunderstood. The common thought is that Jarook is an evil saint, but fear is not always an evil thing.”

  Namitus’s grin grew wider. She was clever. Given to bad judgment, perhaps, but clever. Maybe that was where he got it from. “Yes.”

  Corian clamped his lips together and grunted.

  “Still avoiding my question,” Amra pointed out.

  The rogue chuckled. “Not on purpos
e. The truth is, I don’t know. Thork once said he went where the fear was. He can feel it. I’m not sure what he means, but he said wherever Alto and the rest of us went, there was sure to be a lot of fear in the making. Perhaps these days my friend is tied down to mundane matters and cannot be at the center of the world’s disturbances. Maybe, instead, the torch has been passed to you.”

  Corian stumbled as he walked. “What?” he gasped. “You mean, like, a quest?”

  “I suppose it could be seen as such,” Namitus said. “The splisskin are rising and you are trying to thwart their plans. That sounds like a quest to me.”

  “Aren’t we part of it too?” Amra asked. “We’re here, after all.”

  Namitus frowned. Amra was just a girl. The same as Allisandra, he supposed, but Allisandra had faced battle. “I intend only to find out what I can and return north,” Namitus said. “I gave your father my word I would take you there...safely.”

  “I’m not a child,” Amra protested. “I’m twenty years old, old enough I should have a family of my own by now.”

  He turned to spare her a quick look and studied her to see if she was lying. Twenty? She could be, he supposed. “And you haven’t because you’ve stayed on to help your father at his shop?”

  “Yes.”

  Namitus grunted. “We’ll see if you’re half as good with a cudgel as you think you are tonight then.”

  Her eyes twinkled and her lips twitched as she struggled against a smile. “What about now?” she asked.

  Namitus turned back around and stared at the fast approaching city of Greyfall. “Now we find ourselves a decent meal, some extra horses, and see if anyone can guide us to this Lariki fellow.”

  Namitus heard several gasps as his small group of travelers turned and saw the nearby city. Their conversation had caused the time and distance to pass without their notice. The jungle grew thicker to their sides but ahead the road was straight and true to a mighty wood and stone bridge wide enough for two wagons to drive abreast.

  “Greyfall,” Namitus announced as they crossed the bridge a few minutes later. “It thrives on trade from the sea and the river, but make no mistake, this is a city that governs itself and the land around it. Truly a city-state. And that means that you should take care not to upset any of the merchants or guards, lest they prove to be less than tolerant of your barbaric ways.”