Reegan pulled out three coins.
“Save the ale,” Reegan said. “We’ll drink when I get him out of the Greeg Lands.”
“Be careful, Marshyl. Them people are savages of the worst sort.”
“All the more reason I have to bring him home,” Reegan said.
Chapter 12
Dex released his father from the elvish ending curse and untied his legs. The older man got up slowly, groaning. It had gotten cold in the night, their fire burning through the dried shrubs quickly, so that by midnight the fire had burned out and the only thing left to keep them warm was the residual heat of the big stones they were camped beside.
“We’re heading south,” Dex said. “You can ride, or you can be carried like a sack of grain. Your choice.”
“I hurt all over,” Maslow said. “I can hardly move.”
Dex started to say that if his father wasn’t such an untrustworthy murdering disgrace he wouldn’t have to be held fast in a paralysis spell through the night, but he decided not to waste his breath. The last thing he wanted was another debate. Dex was confident in the Marshyl Guild, but he had spent the entire night dreaming of Lalyn, which hadn’t put him in a good mood.
Once the horses were saddled, Dex helped his father up onto the horse he’d been fleeing on. The mare was strong and sure footed, not as big as Dex’s stallion, but a steady mount for long rides.
“You go first,” Dex said. “I don’t want you behind me.”
“What am I going to do, try to outrun you? That’s just foolishness. That stallion you’re on could outrun this ole gal without breaking a sweat.”
“You can try not talking,” Dex said. “I won’t mind a bit.”
“We haven’t seen each other in almost ten years, Dex. I’ve missed you, even though I didn’t realize it. I’ve had a hole in my heart and I only just recently realized what it was.”
“Good for you,” Dex said, climbing up onto Titan and patting the big stallion’s powerful neck. “Ride!”
“Which way?” Maslow asked.
“South.”
They set out in silence, which only lasted about an hour. The older man just couldn’t help himself. He turned in his saddle to try and look at Dex.
“You haven’t asked how I got my memory back,” he said.
“I’m not convinced you ever lost it,” Dex replied.
“Well, that’s not fair, son.”
“Fair has nothing to do with it. It wasn’t fair when you disappeared. It wasn’t fair when mom’s new husband all but kicked me out. It wasn’t fair having to live on the streets in Rycaster, doing the worst jobs for a few table scraps and being treated like vermin.”
“You’ve had a hard life, that’s my fault.”
“No, I don’t blame you. Just like I’m not crying about what I had to do for my friend, or the hard work it took to get through the Marshyl training. Life is what you make it and I plan on making a good life.”
“How is serving a tyrannical ruler a good life, son?”
“First of all, don’t talk about things you know nothing about. And secondly, stop calling me ‘son.’ You lost that privilege long ago.”
“I’ll always be your father.”
“And what does that mean, exactly?” Dex asked. “You really think you should get some sort of special consideration because we share the same blood?
“Perhaps,” Maslow said. “A little respect would be nice.”
“You’re a murderer, a disgrace.”
“And I suppose you’ve never killed anyone?”
The words were like a slap in the face to Dex. He had killed and he wasn’t proud of it. The people he had killed had been intent on killing him, or people he cared about, but taking a life left its mark, and Dex still struggled with it. He sometimes had nightmares, or intense guilt over the lives he’d been forced to take.
“You have no idea what my life has been like,” Dex said. “You don’t get to judge me or anything I’ve done.”
The day passed in bouts of agonizing conversation for Dex. His father’s words were like bee stings striking at the foundation he’d built his life on. As a young man he’d longed to hear his father’s reassurance and pride, but instead Maslow’s absence left doubt and discouragement. It got so bad at one point that Dex considered using the elvish ending spell to shut his father up, but forced himself not to go to extremes. The trip back to the Marshyl compound would be easier without his father having to be kept in a constant state of paralysis, which meant that Dex would just have to endure his father’s rambling. Maslow was completely undeterred by Dex’s lack of interest in the conversation. He talked of fishing off the coast of Tuckeron, of his mother, of his years in the northern kingdoms and how life was different beyond Torgyl’s wall.
When they finally made camp, the dreariness of the Greeg Lands and his father’s steady monologue had worn Dex out. It was hard to imagine that the jovial, familiar man who had ridden with Dex all day was actually a cold-blooded Marshyl killer. Dex ate in silence then wrapped himself in a blanket. His father never stopped talking, even with his mouth full of food, and Dex, trying desperately to tune his father out, accidentally nodded off. He never saw the blow to the head that knocked him senseless, but he came around late into the night, his body shivering with cold and completely unable to move.
The fire had gone out, and Dex was lying face down in the dirt, his head hurt terribly and his body ached from hours without movement. He tried to touch his head, but his arms wouldn’t move. Slowly the realization of what had happened dawned on Dex. His father had attacked him, broken free of his bonds, and cast a spell on Dex. It was difficult but he had to focus his mind to take an inventory of his predicament. His head was pounding and the pain left him in a bit of a daze. He tried to feel for his armor, but in the darkness it was impossible to know for certain.
He passed out after spending nearly an hour trying desperately to break free of the curse that had paralyzed him. Dex guessed that his father had used the Lord Marshyl’s sword to cast the spell that held him fast. The advanced paralysis spell ecclass was only effective while the person casting it was close by and focused on the target of their curse. Dex knew the elvish ending spell was much stronger as it was derived from the magical object in the sword, tears of an actual elf. The realization that he could be stuck in the Greeg Lands with no shelter and no way to even move from the spot where he lay, was horrifying. When he woke up again, it was dawn. Dex could feel the sunlight on his body, slowly warming him up like one of the many stones in the vast desert claimed by the nomadic Greegs. Unfortunately, Dex couldn’t even open his eyes to see what was happening around him. It was a relief to hear Titan nearby, the big horse had a deep, unmistakable neigh.
With his head still aching, and completely unable to move, Dex fell into a mental fog. He wasn’t sure when he was sleeping and when he was awake. His world was defined by pain - from his head, from the rocks gouging into his body, from the pressure of his own weight on the unyielding floor of the desert, even from the near-freezing temperatures. Pain was all Dex knew as day turned into night again and nothing seemed real but his own agony.
The next morning, when Dex still couldn’t move, despair set in. He thought he would rather be dead than left stuck on the ground for another day. Tears leaked from his eyes as he cried over his predicament. His father had cursed him and left him to die. His own father cared more for his own life than that of his son. The pain of being betrayed and abandoned hurt more than anything his body endured.
It was mid-morning when Titan grew nervous. Dex knew the big horse was hungry and restless, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even speak to reassure his faithful steed that things would be okay. The horse began to huff, his big hooves shuffling. Dex couldn’t see what was making the horse so nervous. He feared some wild animal was approaching and without being able to move, he wouldn’t be able to protect himself. The Greeg Lands were known for the deadly creatures that inhabited the desert
, from venomous snakes, to roving bands of wolves, or the rare but very deadly rock trolls who were known to rip unsuspecting travelers to pieces.
When Titan neighed and then galloped away Dex feared the worst. Soon he heard the chattering of a strange language he didn’t recognize and the sound of stealthy footsteps approaching. Then rough hands yanked him upright. There was shouting and laughter. Dex couldn’t respond or even open his eyes. He could smell the rancid breath and unwashed body as someone shouted in his face, but he couldn’t turn away. When he was hit with a driving punch in the stomach, he struggled to breathe. He was dropped to the ground, and kicked repeatedly. His last thought before being knocked unconscious was the horrifying reality that his situation was worse than if he’d been found by a pack of hungry wolves or even a dreaded rock troll. He had been found by the Greeg.
Chapter 13
When Dex woke up again, he could move slightly. He was tied with his arms and legs stretched out away from his body, his hands and feet bound to stakes that had been driven into the ground. He could move again, but only to pull on the ropes. Most encouraging of all, he could open his eyes. His head was pounding, and he could feel the bruises from where the Greeg had kicked him, but he could twist his body slightly and turn his head. He felt as if his strength were returning.
Around him a group of Greeg warriors were dancing. They wore thick, leather boots that rose to their knees and were decorated with beads. Their heads were decorated with feathers tucked into supple crowns made from green shoots Dex didn’t recognize, or colorful bands that looked to be made from leather. Dex knew the Greeg were hunters, living in small tribes that moved from place to place across the arid desert in search of food or water. Each tribe had distinctive garments. The men dancing around Dex wore furry kilts with wide belts. Some were shirtless, preferring to wear cloaks that left their chests bare to show off their tattoos and scars.
Looking around the small encampment, Dex saw a large group of adults sitting nearby. Dex guessed there were maybe forty adults in the tribe, and half again as many children. The warriors dancing around Dex were close to his own age, some with chalky body paint in dull patterns on their face, neck and chests. They were in the middle of some type of ceremony. Dex didn’t know enough about the Greeg to discern what was happening, but he knew the savage tribes rarely let captives go free. He would either be made into a slave or sacrificed to their gods. Dex had heard rumors of cannibalism, but if the Greeg were going to eat him, he doubted they intended to do so while he was still alive.
In the group of adults, Dex saw someone wearing his fur-lined cloak. It was a big man, with lines tattooed across his face and down his chin. A woman was wrapped in his blanket. Another man, much larger than the first, with a dull look in his eyes, had Dex’s saddle bags over his shoulder as he pulled a cart toward the group of adults.
The sun was starting to set and from the cart a group of women removed what looked like black rocks. Each woman gathered a basket full of the small rocks, which Dex guessed were actually lumps coal, and carried them to where they were lit to make small fires. The women began to cook food and the aroma made Dex’s stomach growl with hunger. The dancing warriors began to shout as their dance became more frenzied. They carried long, narrow spears, which they twirled over their heads and around their backs. The spears looked like long reeds, not quite as tall as a grown man, with small metal or stone points. Each one was decorated with leather strips, fabric, and feathers. When the warriors began stabbing the ground around him, he knew it was only a matter of time before the first spear connected with his body. It might only be a grazing blow, but once blood was shed the warriors would be thrown into a frenzy.
Dex pulled on his bonds in frustration. He was angry and scared — angry at the realization that he was going to die tied to the ground where he couldn’t fight back. Dex didn’t want to die, but he felt if he could just get to his feet and have a chance to challenge the Greeg warriors his death wouldn’t be as humiliating. He was also angry at his father. The pain of being left vulnerable, cursed with the elvish ending spell, was bad enough, but knowing that his father had taken the dragon armor and the Lord Marshyl’s sword was even more infuriating. Dex should have known there was no honor in his father, who had murdered at least a dozen Marshyl Knights, but his hope that his father might see reason and repent of his crimes was too ingrained in Dex. He was the type of person who wanted to believe the best about people, especially those he knew and loved. Dex wanted to believe that his father really had been caught up in a storm that swept him up the coast and left him with no memory. He wanted to believe that his father had been bewitched by the mysterious Master Crane, perhaps even enchanted somehow, so that his murderous actions might not even be his fault. But in truth his father was a coward. Maslow didn’t care about Dex, or his mother, only himself. He was unwilling to face the consequences of his actions, which made all his arguments against the Marshyl Guild nothing more than hot air.
As night fell, Dex noticed the stars twinkling overhead. They seemed to shimmer as he waited to die. His last wish was that it would happen quickly. He had suffered enough, he thought, and could at least hope for a quick death that didn’t drag out for hours through the night.
A piecing scream rang out suddenly, throwing the camp into shocked silence. At first Dex thought that it was just part of the ceremony, some new element of the dancing warrior display that had been closing in on him over the last hour. But the dancers had stopped moving and were looking up into the darkening sky. When Dex glanced over he saw that the adults were on their feet as well, pointing and staring up. Dex looked and finally spotted a shadow flashing past, little more than a dark form blotting out the stars for a second, but the emotion in the camp had changed. The celebration or sacred ceremony that the Greeg were enacting was suddenly replaced by fear.
Another echoing cry from overhead filled Dex with hope. He recognized the avian scream. It was a phoenix call, loud and reverberating, followed by a human scream. The man who was wearing Dex’s cloak fell to his knees, his shoulders covered in blood from huge lacerations. Bits of fur from the cloak’s edging drifted down around him, and the entire tribe ran to help him. The fires were forgotten, as children were snatched up by their parents, and the cart was turned around. There wasn’t much light in the camp, the coal fires were little more than glowing red piles of rocks, but the full moon had risen and cast a silvery glow on the fleeing Greeg tribe. Dex felt helpless still tied to the ground, but he also felt a thrill of hope. Bliss had returned, and just in time to save Dex.
The phoenix, which had grown much larger than when she had left him, landed just a few feet away. The golden feathers on her head looked very much like a crown, and the bird was thick with new muscle from flying, hunting, and feasting. She stepped forward, cooing softly and bobbing her head.
“Bliss, you’re back,” Dex said. “I can’t believe it’s really you. You’re so big.”
The phoenix turned a full circle, as if showing off just how big she was. When he’d last seen her, the bird was the size of a large dog. Dex had barely been able to hold the crimson-feathered phoenix in his lap. But she had returned twice as big, her chest was thick with muscle, the long wings folded on either side like large shields, and she had long legs that ended in thick talons with wicked-looking claws. The phoenix’s beak was larger too, and Dex could see the serrated edges of the dark, black mouth when she opened the beak to squawk at him.
“I can’t get up,” he said, not really understanding the phoenix but guessing what she wanted. “I’m tied down. Can you help me?”
The phoenix turned to the ropes and clawed at them with one talon. The ropes were made of thick braids of some type of grass Dex was unfamiliar with. Some of the fibrous strands broke but it was clear that it would take the phoenix a long time to break through the bonds. She tried biting and tearing at the rope as Dex tugged, but the cord held.
“Looks like you need some help.”
Dex tu
rned and saw a figure approaching. He recognized the shadowy form as Bliss hissed at the newcomer, hopping back and spreading her wings.
“It’s okay, Bliss,” Dex said. “Outrider Reegan is a friend.”
Reegan drew his sword and chopped the nearest rope with one powerful blow. Bliss hopped from foot to foot as Reegan freed Dex, who wanted to jump to his feet and embrace his friend, but just getting off the ground was difficult.
“Take it easy,” Reegan said. “Flamba!”
A small flame burst to life in front of Dex, the sudden light making him blink hard.
“Looks like you’ve got a pretty significant gash on the back of your head,” Reegan said. “Maybe even a concussion.”
Dex had rolled onto his side and was slowly raising himself up to a sitting position. His head hurt, but so did his muscles and joints, yet the thrill of being rescued was so wonderful that he ignored the pain.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Dex said.
“Well, your pet stole my thunder,” Reegan said. “I was almost set to rush into the tribe and rescue you when she came screaming out of the sky.”
“You were just looking out for me, weren’t you Bliss?” Dex said.
The phoenix cooed and moved closer to him, rubbing her head against his shoulder.
“What happened?” Reegan said. “I didn’t see your armor with the Greeg tribe.”
“No, my father stole my armor and sword, before leaving me cursed and helpless. I was paralyzed for at least two days,” Dex admitted.
“You found him? Did he fight you?”
“No, not really,” Dex said. “But he wore me down. The man talks constantly. I captured him, although that may have been his plan all along. I was so focused on getting him back to the compound that I never considered the possibility that he was planning some type of attack when my guard was down.”
“Well, you’re alive and that’s all that matters,” Reegan said. “I’ll get my horse and we’ll make camp. The Greeg were nice enough to share their coal with us.”
Regulators Revealed Page 8
