Knight of a Trillion Stars (20 page)

Searan watched the golden-haired man carefully for a response. The Charl had said nothing. But his eyes promised much. Searan knew that a man such as this Off Lander would not rest until he avenged himself against his enemies. Searan must make sure this would not happen.

Searan knew that it would be foolish to murder a Charl. To do so would be to invite horrors down upon his head, the likes of which he did not care to think about. And it would only cause another Charl to seek him out and destroy him.

No, he had a better way.

“You, Charl, will be taken to the Waters of Tomorrow. There you will be immersed in the springs, and all that you have known in your lifetime will be wiped from your mind.”

The man did not react as Searan had expected. In fact, he did not react in any visible way. But his woman did. Indeed, the little female Off Lander seemed more upset over the Charl’s fate than her own. Perhaps Searan could use that to his advantage in the future.

Lorgin’s icy eyes became warmer as he regarded Deana. She was so kindhearted, his Adeeann. He was not concerned over his own supposed fate. The stupid Searan did not even realize that Lorgin was a fourth-level mystic and so had power over water, even spellbound water. He needed to come up with a plan to help them escape from these nomads. He would bide his time. It would come to him. Thus Yaniff had trained him.

Lorgin stayed by Deana all night. Against her protests, he removed his cloak, placing it over her own when the
cold night air flowed around them. Discreetly, Lorgin directed a warm stream of air to both Deana and Rejar, who had been dragged from his hut wearing nothing but his pants and boots and now was tied to a post.

Deana watched Rejar. His head was slumped forward, and he sagged against the bindings which held him. The drug had finally overcome his monumental efforts to keep it at bay. Deana closed her eyes against the heartrending sight of Rejar held captive. She waited for the dawn with Lorgin.

Something unexpected happened at first light. The nomads were attacked by another band of nomads.

Blades sliced the air; blood stained the sand; yells and war cries rent the air. Deana covered her ears and tightly closed her eyes to block out the violence around her.

Lorgin quickly gathered her to him, shielding her with himself while he protectively hid her face in his chest lest she see the horror of the battle.

The three of them, obviously prisoners, were left alone by the invaders.

When the battle was over, there was a different tribe surrounding them; Searan and his group had been run off. The leader of these men looked them over to see what he had won.

He walked purposefully toward Rejar. Grabbing a hank of Rejar’s hair, he roughly pulled back his head, peering into his bloodshot dual-colored eyes. The leader spat upon the ground, then swiftly removed a huge blade from his waistband. Alarmed, Lorgin started forward, but the leader whooshed the blade through the air, slicing Rejar’s bonds in an instant.

Rejar sank wearily to the ground.

“I do not abide with slavery, Familiar, but be warned. We are still thieves and murderers.”

Rejar slowly got to his feet, massaging his stiff muscles. “Better a thief and a murderer than a slaver.”

“Hah!” The leader slapped his thigh. Then he turned his gaze to Deana. His eyes lit up. “Perhaps we do have a treasure here after all.” His gaze fell to the necklace around her neck.

Lorgin, seeing the recognition in the man’s eyes, stepped forward. “Let us go. We mean you no harm and can offer you nothing.”

The man regarded Lorgin. “No? There is something around her neck that is worth much…some would say it is priceless.” He turned to his men. “She wears the Shimalee!”

A chorus of “Ahs” greeted his statement. He focused on Deana, but spoke to Lorgin. “Is she a true wearer or an infidel impostor?”

“She is true,” Lorgin responded. Deana wisely kept silent.

The leader scratched his chin. “Tell her to cast a spell. If she casts a spell, I will let you all live and you will be free to go. If she cannot, you all die where you stand.”

Lorgin calmly turned to Deana. “Cast a spell, Adeeann.” Deana looked at him as if he had lost his senses. “Do it. Now.”

“Are you nuts?” she hissed back at him. “I can’t—”

Lorgin grabbed her to him to muffle her words. He spoke low in her ear. “Say something—anything. Recite something, sing something. I do not care, just sound like you mean it.” He released her.

A high school football cheer her grandfather used to chant popped into her head. Now how did it go? She thought for a moment, not remembering it exactly, but that wouldn’t matter to these guys.

Suddenly, she leaped in the air, waving her arms like a cheerleader, hopping and jumping.

“Brackety-ax! co-ax! co-ax!

Hi-ho! Hi-ho!

Wallego-wallego wax!

Yah team! Yah team!

Tou……ch down!”

She attempted a split at the end and flopped over face first into the sand.

A chorus of ‘Ahhhs’ followed her.

Lorgin’s eyes flicked over her, an incredulous look in them. He shook his head briefly, not believing what he had witnessed.

The leader was not so easily swayed as his henchmen. “What kind of a spell did you cast?” he spoke directly to Deana.

“What kind of spell did I cast?” She turned beseechingly to Lorgin. “What kind of a spell
did
I cast?”

Lorgin quickly answered. “She cast a spell on you to doubt her ability to cast spells.”

“What?” The leader didn’t seem to be buying it.

“Is it not true? Do you not have such doubts?”

“Yes, but surely—”

“There, you can see her powers.”

The chorus concurred with their “ahhhs.”

The leader was becoming flustered. His men were entranced by the ridiculous display. It was clear he had no choice but to let his captives go now. He stroked his beard, coming to a decision.

“You are free to go. Take your things and leave.”

They quickly gathered their belongings. Before they left, the leader grabbed Lorgin’s arm taking him aside. “I think it was more your swift mind and sharp tongue which saved you, Off Lander, and not any spell from this woman.”

Lorgin smiled at the crafty old desert fox. “Not true; for any fool can see that this woman has indeed cast a powerful spell over this Charl.”

The nomad laughed heartily, slapping Lorgin on the back; he sent them all on their way.

Traed ta’al Theardar looked up from the book he was reading to coolly stare at his manservant. The man knew better than to interrupt him when he sought solitude. If Traed were in a frame of mind to be fair he would acknowledge the fact that he often sought solitude these days and considered just about everything an interruption. But he wasn’t in such a frame of mind. After all, this was his home; he was not obligated to be fair.

“What do you want?”
His frigid tone froze the poor servant to his spot by the open door.

“I-I most humbly beg your forgiveness for disturbing you, b-but there are some visitors at the gate demanding entrance.”

Traed crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his seat. The caravans which sometimes traveled this way often traded with his people who lived inside the keep. But they were never called visitors. There was only one person who had ever visited him in all the years he had lived here. The blood in his veins turned to ice. “It is not my father, is it?”

The servant backed up a step at the fierce expression on Traed’s face. “N-no, my lord Traed. They did not say who they are.”

Traed’s features relaxed slightly with the news that these visitors were not his dreaded sire. “They seek me?”

“Yes, my lord Traed.”

“Send them away. I do not wish to be disturbed.” Traed turned back to his book, dismissing the servant.

“B-but, Master Traed, they said it was most urgent, and that they needed to see you—”

Traed exhaled noisily.
“I said send them away.”

“Yes, my lord Traed.” The servant scooted from the room.

Traed looked down at his book again, not really seeing the words before him. Sometimes when he sat lately, the hours would sort of slip away as if he were in a trance. He wondered if a man could let all his hours slip away, until, blissfully, there would be no more.

Such thoughts gave him reason to live. He smiled at the irony of it, wondering if he was not already half mad.

It had taken them three days to fially reach Traed’s keep.

The trip had been tiring and difficult; they had never once crossed an outpost during the journey. Rejar was becoming sullen, Deana was irritable, and Lorgin remained…Lorgin.

They were sitting by the gate in the broiling sun waiting for the gatekeeper to let them enter.

“I wish he would hurry up. I’m about to fry out here,” Deana complained.

“It will not be much longer, Adeeann.” Lorgin’s calm response seemed to irritate her even more.

“Doesn’t anything ever bother you, Lorgin? My God, this has been the most hellacious trip I’ve ever been on.” She wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. “What I wouldn’t do for a nice cool bath…”

Lorgin’s mouth lifted slightly in a faint grin. “You will get your cool bath soon,
zira.
Perhaps we can share it.” His eyes sparkled with sexual mischief.

{Must you talk of such things now? I vow I am getting tired of it.}

Lorgin raised an eyebrow. “Rejar, it is not like you to be so edgy.”

Rejar rubbed his eyes.
{Forgive me, Lorgin. I am…wound up.}

Lorgin chuckled. “Yes, it is not usual for you to go so long without your
comforts.
Yaniff says sometimes abstinence is good for the soul. It can renew your heart and spirit.”

{Yaniff is an extremely old man. He has probably forgotten exactly what such comforts feel like to a man. Besides, you are a student of his, yet I do not see you practicing this philosophy he preaches.}

“I am his student, this is true”—Lorgin grinned slowly and wickedly at his brother—“but I think a man must also have his own beliefs to follow.”

Rejar grinned knowingly back to his brother.

“What are you two talking about?” Deana had only heard Lorgin’s side of the conversation, as Rejar had shielded his thoughts from her.

Lorgin answered her. “Rejar is thinking of joining the Charl.”

{Not in this lifetime, brother.}

Deana looked from one to the other, somehow doubting by their very male expressions that that had been the topic of conversation. She was about to inquire further when the gatekeeper returned.

“He will not see you. Go—be gone from this place!” He was about to go back inside the keep when Lorgin grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, turning the man back around to face him. Lorgin’s voice was deadly low.

“Then you will go back to your master again. We have come a long way. It is hot in the sun here.
I grow annoyed at being kept waiting.
” Well, Deana, thought, Lorgin is human after all! She chuckled to herself.

The gatekeeper began babbling. “B-but he will not see you!” He wrung his hands together.

“Tell him Lorgin ta’al Krue is on his doorstep. Tell him I
have come to challenge him to a game of
dizu.
” The gatekeeper hedged. “
Do it.
” At Lorgin’s forbidding tone, the servant ran to do Lorgin’s bidding. When he was out of earshot, Lorgin turned to Deana. “I wonder why I do not have that effect on you, Adeeann?” He raised a commanding eyebrow at her.

“Because I know you are all bark and no bite.”

He rubbed the back of his head as if thinking over her words. “This is not what you said last night.” Deana’s face flamed as her hand went unconsciously to a spot on her neck. Lorgin winked at her.

{Why did you challenge him to dizu?}

“When we were children we played the game constantly. I never beat him. Not once. Of course, it never stopped me from challenging him.”

“Of course not,” Deana said dryly. Now, this sounded more like the Lorgin she knew. He threw her a look.

“It became something of a joke between us.” Suddenly Lorgin became serious. “Before he left us the last time, he said to me, ‘I will never refuse your challenge.’ I replied that I would never stop issuing it.”

The servant slowly made his way back to Traed, dreading the confrontation. The gatekeeper had given him a ridiculous message to relay. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, knocking on the door. There was no response for a full minute.

“What is it?”

The servant tentatively opened the door. “The man at the gate asked that a message be sent to you.”

“Yes? Come on, man, be quick about it.”

“He said his name is Lorgin ta’al Krue and he is on your doorstep to challenge you to a game of
dizu
,” the servant finished apprehensively.

For an instant, the corner of Traed’s mouth lifted in
what could have been the beginning of a smile. But it passed so quickly, the servant was sure he had been mistaken.

Traed ran a weary hand across his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Lorgin! What was he doing here? He did not want to see him, or anyone else for that matter. But…he could not turn him away.

He shocked the servant by saying, “Bid him to enter. Tell him I will be down shortly.”

“Yes, my lord Traed. But he is not alone, he has a woman with him, and—and a Familiar.”

Rejar. It could only be Rejar. And the woman? He would find out soon enough. “Show them in.”

When the servant left, Traed stood looking out of the tower window onto the desert below. The suns were sinking in the sky. Night fell quickly on Zarrain.
Mirroring life.
He desperately tried not to think of a time long gone when he had been so innocent and his life had been happy. A time before his father had come out of the night to take him away. When the darkness began…

They were shown into a large sitting room and told to wait. A servant came in and lit a fire in the stone fireplace. They didn’t have to wait long. A side door opened and Traed ta’al Theardar entered the room.

He was tall, although not as tall as Lorgin and Rejar, Deana thought. About six two. He had a beautiful body. Muscular, but not brawny, he moved with a characteristic sleekness that Deana had observed in the brothers. In fact, something about him reminded her of them, though he didn’t bear an actual physical resemblance to either of them.

As she observed him, it suddenly occurred to Deana that nothing about this man was as it seemed, and
everything
about him required a second look, a deeper look.

Traed was a man of contrasts.

His hair, at first glance, would be mistaken for black. On closer inspection, it revealed hidden highlights, the color a deep mahogany black/brown. Long, straight, and silky, it was pulled away from his face to hang down his back to his waist in a ponytail.

His eyes, a compelling light green, the color of clear peridot, appeared emotionless and flat, reflecting only what they saw. But further examination revealed them to be deep and fathomless—the eyes of a man who had been forced to see more than what was visibly apparent.

The expression on his face was no less than forbidding, perfectly suited to his angular, chiseled features. But, Deana curiously noted, when the firelight reflected on those features, they were sensual and promising.

The man was a strange brew of enigmatical changing facets.

Traed stood before Lorgin, and at that moment the firelight caught all three of the men in its glow. Deana raised her eyebrows as she took in the view.
If this is an example of Aviaran manhood, perhaps it wouldn’t be so awful to visit the wretched place. The scenery would certainly be enticing
…She grinned mischievously. Lorgin caught her expression, throwing her a “behave yourself” look. She blushed right where she stood.
How did the man do that?

Lorgin broke the silence by stepping toward Traed, a genuine smile breaking across his face. “Traed!” He slapped him soundly on the back. Unlike the unfortunate artist so long ago at the convention, Traed did not move an inch.

Nor was he smiling.

“Why have you come here, Lorgin?”

Lorgin chose to ignore Traed’s rudeness. “You do not offer me
keeran
in your house?” Traed waved his hand in the general direction of a side table, implying that if Lorgin wanted
keeran
he could damn well get it for himself.

Deana sighed. This was not going well at all.

She stood beside Rejar as Lorgin poured himself a horn of
keeran.
He hadn’t asked her if she wanted any, but she wasn’t going to berate him for it now. The last thing he needed was her passing out on Traed’s floor. Her attention shifted to Rejar, who had a strange look on his beautiful face.

When Lorgin came back with the horn, he tried engaging Traed in conversation. It didn’t seem to be working. Deana took the opportunity to whisper to Rejar, “Is anything wrong?”

{No…I do not know…}

Uneasy, Rejar left Deana to walk over to the sideboard, slowly pouring himself a horn. He took the time to discreetly study their reluctant host. When last he had seen Traed, Rejar had been a young boy, years away from coming into his full Familiar senses. In fact, he was so young, he barely remembered him. Now what he sensed was making him uncomfortable.

He sensed Lodarres blood in Traed, and the bloodline was strong.

How could this be? he thought. Where is the connection? His thoughts strayed to his father, Krue, unacceptable possibilities presenting themselves to him. Rejar knew his father to be a man of honor, so what he was thinking could not be true. The answer must lie elsewhere.
It had to.
But his senses could not be deceived.

It had to lie elsewhere…

Rejar continued to observe Lorgin and Traed, realizing that neither of them could sense what he sensed. He downed half his horn of
keeran
in one swallow. He would keep his silence. He would not tell Lorgin of this until he had a chance to counsel with Yaniff. The old mystic would guide him.

It would not be the first time Rejar had to turn to Yaniff
for help. If he thought about it, the old man had been there to help him throughout his life. Whenever he got into a scrape or trouble, he always went to Yaniff. Strange, he never realized it until now.

He relied on the old man.

Rejar finished his horn of
keeran
with the revelation. He mentally shook himself. It was not as if he were the wizard’s Familiar or anything. They were just…friends? That did not seem quite right either. Why had he not thought on this before? he wondered.

Rejar was quickly overloading himself. He cleared his mind, focusing back on Traed.

“For what reason do you stare at me so, Rejar?” Traed’s expression was cold, removed, and faintly condescending.

“I have not seen you since I was a young boy, Traed. I was trying to remember you.” Rejar purposely spoke aloud. For some reason, he did not think Traed would want him to enter into his mind with his thoughts.

“And have you?” The words were coldly clipped.

Rejar put down his horn. “In truth, I have not, Traed. The young man I remember was not you.”

Traed narrowed his eyes at the thinly veiled reference to the different man he had become.

Lorgin threw his brother a disgusted look. He had been trying to thaw Traed for several minutes. With one carelessly thrown comment, Rejar had destroyed the ground Lorgin thought he had made.

Traed leaned back against the stone mantel, crossing his arms. “Lorgin, you have not told me why you have come here.”

Lorgin smiled at him. “Yes, I have. I challenge you to a game of
dizu.
”

“You came all this way out here to Zarrain for a game of
dizu
? I think not.”

“You
refuse
the challenge?” Lorgin locked eyes with him, awaiting his answer.

Traed blinked once, as if he were not sure how he could respond. Caught in a quandary, he turned to stare at the fire in the grate. In that moment, Lorgin knew he had won. Traed would allow them to stay. It was confirmed with Traed’s words.

“No,” he exhaled, “I do not refuse.”

Lorgin inclined his head. “I expected no less.” He motioned to Deana to step forward. “This is my
zira
, Adeeann.” A glimmer of surprise flashed in Traed’s eyes.

Deana waved her fingers at the stern man before her. “Hi, how ya doing?”

Traed nodded to her, acknowledging her presence but not deigning to say anything to her. He spoke to Lorgin.