The Stolen Prince (Blood for Blood Book 1) (5 page)

“Do you think we’ll ever live outside the forest?” Hakon asked. Gage glanced back and saw he was staring at the painting that taught how to farm. The guardians still believed every male should be taught husbandry and agriculture in case it was their generation that reclaimed their land, the Great Plains. Not every tribe taught this. Not everyone felt it was useful, but then again, not everyone had hope.

“I think it will be soon, Hakon,” Gage said. He applied some solvent to the small cuts and scrapes on the back of Hakon’s neck. “We are close to uniting the tribes.”

“It is time then?”

Gage looked at the boy. There was fear in his eyes, but he was doing his best to hide it. Had they asked too much of this young prince? All their hope lay in him. Gage had thought there would be more time, a few more years at least.

“I wish we had more time. More time for you to be prepared. Truly trained.” Gage turned to face Hakon. The boy’s eyes reflected gray, almost silver in the moonlight. He was only eighteen. Old enough to be a man among the Terra, but he would still be a boy among his own people, the Alem. Gage wondered if it was time to tell Hakon the truth about who he was, about what he was. The boy was still so unaware of how much they relied on him. Perhaps it was too much to put on one man, let alone a boy, and that was the fault of the plan. But it was the only way. Gage had hoped that there wouldn’t be so much riding on Hakon by this time. He thought that the Terra would finally be united—they had certainly had the years and the wars to work for it. But they were still divided, fighting as they always had. They were greater slaves of their tradition than they were of the Alem. Their dangerous environment, and their conflicting beliefs, had done its worst.

Hakon picked at Gage’s bandages. “I’m sorry to have missed Skeet’s raid. It would have been a good thing to show the other tribes what progress we make.”

“There will be time enough for that.” Gage shouldered his spear. “I think it is wiser that you kill only tigers and not men for now.”

“I will have to kill men one day, Gage.” Hakon began to sew up his skins around his wounds. “Probably my own.”

Gage heard resentment in Hakon’s words. He needed him to focus. He moved toward him and grabbed his face.

“The Summit Council will be meeting in a week, Hakon. I need you to refrain from hunting or raiding. Heal quickly. Then train everyday. Spar with everyone. Our tribe’s mission counts on you, and it may come down to a duel.” Gage saw the flash of fear again. “Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

Gage paused. What else could he say to prepare the boy? Before he could say anything, however, a body suddenly appeared between them.

“A fat belly tiger, Brother! And it looks like you had to go through his fat belly to get at him. Hasn’t anyone told you that the neck is faster?” Skeet was standing between them, always favoring the surprise arrival over using a main entrance. Hakon’s eyes lit up at seeing Skeet.

“Skeet! You’re well!” Hakon threw Skeet into an embrace, causing them both to wince and then laugh. “How many enslaved Terra did we welcome home?”

“You cannot vanish so carelessly, Nephew,” Gage began, but Skeet cut him off with laughter.

“Oh, Uncle Gage, always one to criticize!” Skeet glanced at Hakon. “I’m sure he told you it was your fault a tiger attacked you.” Hakon nodded, grinning.

Gage felt the need to reprimand his nephew. “I am your guardian, Skeet. You will address me as such.”

Skeet grinned. “Right, Uncle.” Only Skeet could get away with teasing Gage this way. His face went solemn, and he bowed ceremoniously, lifting his dagger to his forehead. Then he held up his hand in front of them both. Below the long claws on his left hand were four fresh scars rubbed with black ash. “
Guardian,
I have killed four air–sucking soldiers, and we freed more than sixty Terra tonight!”

Hakon inspected Skeet’s newly–tattooed hand. There were now seven tick marks along his fingers, representing the seven men Skeet had killed. Soon, the tattoos would become more elaborate, spreading up the arms. Hakon’s hands were still without tattoos, for he had killed no one. Gage preferred it stay that way for now.

“Skeet, I wish I had been there,” Hakon said.

Skeet smiled, but Gage recognized the unmistakable anger behind his nephew’s smiling eyes. Still, he jovially punched Hakon in the arm.

“Nah, we’ll skin the tiger, Brother. Masha will be glad for the colorful fur. She’s been wearing a ‘boring deer’ for far too long.” The anger in Skeet’s eyes disappeared and turned to affection. “She was hoping Isis would return from his Survival with one, but you beat him to it!”

Gage’s concerns were momentarily turned to his other nephew, Isis, Skeet’s younger brother. His father, Chief Tip, had wanted to initiate Isis into adulthood before the tribes met. The boy had been on his Survival for four days now, living alone in the forest with the purpose of bringing back a large animal on his own.

Hakon smiled. “It won’t take Isis long to kill a wild beast. He’s only been gone a few days. Did you tell Masha you were missing for nearly two weeks? We thought you had died.”

Skeet rolled his eyes. “That is not true. It was ten days! It was you who took two weeks, you air sucker. Lost in the forest, trying to kill a beast with these?” He held up Hakon’s clawless hands. “Pitiful.”

Hakon slapped Skeet’s hands back and swung a punch toward his ear, but Gage blocked it. He glared at Hakon.

“Be still, or you’ll never heal. Both of you know everyone comes of age differently in the woods. Some take three days. Some take ten days. And some, I would remind you, don’t survive. It is no small thing Isis is doing for one so young, so I would spend your time asking the Master for his safe journey, Skeet.”

Skeet scowled. “You really have no sense of humor, Uncle.” Seeing Gage’s face, Skeet corrected, “Guardian.”

Gage rested his hand on Hakon’s shoulder. “Go wash the wound again and clean up quickly. There will be wounded to tend to among your pack and the slaves. Skeet will report to me.”

“Yes.” Skeet’s face went grave. “All the wounded are in the dome.” As Hakon turned to go, Skeet broke into a smile again. “And since you didn’t come with us, Hakon, you’ll have to listen to me tell the whole story at least three times.”

Hakon smiled and left, going toward Tip’s home. Tip was Gage’s brother and had been Hakon’s adopted father for many years. Hakon and Skeet had grown up as brothers in the house. Gage could not have children, nor raise them, for it was his purpose as a guardian to care only for the boys under his tutelage. Hakon’s pack was small, with only twelve boys, including Skeet.

Skeet turned to Guardian and knelt, putting his dagger to his forehead. Gage noticed it was red with blood. “You took time to tattoo your hands but not to clean your weapons?”

Skeet ignored the question. “I think they’ll move the soldiers deeper east because of what we’ve done.”

“Yes, I imagine the raids are starting to have some effect on the great King Arden’s morale. Did you kill any villagers?”

“I don’t think so, Master willing,” Skeet said. “All the Alem soldiers are dead.”

“Good.” Gage bent down, sitting across from Skeet. “The Summit Council will be meeting in a week. It is time our tribe acted on our destiny.”

Skeet’s eyes widened. “Will the other tribes support us?”

“I have had word from my fellow guardians across the clans, and there is promise. Though I still think it may come to a duel.” Skeet nodded. “Are you prepared, Skeet, to do your part? There are others. Your father is willing.”

“No,” Skeet said. “I will be the one to defend my brother and his cause.”

Gage frowned. “I think you should stop calling Hakon your brother.”

Skeet laughed. “I don’t understand you, Uncle. You speak of a new future in your precious pact, yet you want us to hold to revenge, as if we could forget what the Air Kingdom has done to us. I know what Hakon is,
Guardian
, and I still choose to call him
Brother
.” Skeet was breathing heavily, emotions high.
That is his greatest weakness
, Guardian thought,
how he goes from joy to anger so quickly.

“He must always remember who he is, Skeet. It is for him.”

“Wasn’t he supposed to feel one with us?” Skeet asked, sincerely.

Yes, that was the plan. But if anger was Skeet’s weakness, sentiment was Hakon’s.
Yes, that had been the plan, Skeet, until your mother died.
“He knows he is one of us, Skeet. But if our purpose is accomplished, it won’t be very long until he is one of
them
.” Gage gave his nephew a cold hard stare. “You may as well start preparing for it.”

Skeet nodded, but his lips were stiff. “There are wounded who will need you, Uncle.” Gage nodded and followed Skeet out toward the dome. He let his mind settle into a meditation as he tended to the wounded and marked the ages of the slaves for training so the children could be assigned to guardians right away. His mind drifted to their plans. Were all the years of planning and preaching enough to convince the Terra, the oppressed and hardened earth people, that they should wait for the young heir to the Alem kingdom to accomplish his mission? That they should
wait
to go to war?

CHAPTER SIX

Skeet inspected the gear that was lined up inside the dome. The different tribes were starting to send their envoys deep into the mountains, and Kaldin would soon be joining them. Every chief would come, accompanied by at least one guardian and several of the tribe’s warriors.

They were meeting at The Drums, deep in the mountains. It was called The Drums because it was the source and center of the constant beating that rippled throughout the Desolate Forest. Skeet always heard the drumbeat below him and around him. It comforted him, felt familiar and right. The closer to The Drums they got, the louder the beating became; the dirt vibrated with tremors, and part of the hills moved like waves. Skeet had only been to The Drums once before, with Hakon when they were children.

They had both been six years old. They came to carve their mother’s name into the walls.

Tip returned from checking on the rest of their family. Skeet was third of five, not counting Hakon (and Gage never allowed him to be counted among them). His two older brothers were already married and had families of their own. Younger than Skeet were the twins, Masha and Isis. Skeet had hoped Isis would have returned by now so he could accompany them, but he was still out in the forest alone, hunting in hopes of returning with a wild beast and becoming a man. Skeet tried not to worry about his brother. It was important he take this step in his training, especially if they would be going to war soon.

Perhaps it was good Isis wasn’t coming. Skeet wanted to be alone when he saw his mother’s name again. Isis couldn’t even remember their mother. The twins were infants when she died.

Skeet’s father nodded to him and tossed him a bundle, which they tied onto waiting ziffs. His father looked solemn. Skeet felt the pang of pity for him. For once, he wished that Tip had remarried. He was hard, like all the Terra, his face and skin toughened by the conditions they lived in, by the war, and by seeing his wife killed by the Alem. His father’s hands and arms were covered with tattoos—too numerous and intricate to count how many men he had killed.

Skeet turned and whistled. He heard Hakon’s familiar whistled response, and soon his brother was turning the corner, shouldering his supplies. Tip affectionately grabbed Hakon on the shoulder as he approached.

“Come, my sons. Let’s change our destinies,” he said. He smiled at Skeet warmly. They moved together toward the group of men and women that were gathering at the gates of Kaldin. They were silent, regarding Hakon with a reverence that always irritated Skeet. His father whispered, “Daggers out, boys. We have a ways to go before we reach the first tunnel.”

They traversed through the thick of the forest as a trained pack, quickly and carefully, until they reached the first hidden underground tunnel, where they lit torches. The group moved forward, still cautious, for the earth shifted strangely in the Desolate Mountains. What might have been a clear path could easily have caved in or grown over with poisonous sap.

Day after day, they moved toward the high peak, sending word of their progress back to the tribe through carrier birds or portlings. The tribe did not zip or port but traveled at a slow pace on foot. Skeet assumed it was because not all of them could move by zipping, but when he asked Tip why they moved so slowly, his father answered, “It is to give us time to think. We have much to think about.”

As they got closer to the mountains, Skeet could hear the steady beat of the earth. His heart began to beat in time with The Drums. The closer they got to the mountain, the more he could feel its presence. It was inside The Drums that the surviving Terra had found sanctuary from the Alem and the Desolate Forest. The original city was hundreds of years old, and the Terra had long ago migrated outward, spreading across the mountains. Now very few lived in the city, but many visited it, for it was where all the Terra honored their dead and where the destinies of war and the people were decided.

The Drums got louder, and his tribe was marching to its beat.

Skeet turned back to Hakon to see if he felt the same beat of the earth, the incredible calling of the earth to its people. Hakon look disturbed.

“What’s wrong, Hakon?”

“I don’t know. The sound of The Drums, the beating in the earth, always makes me feel vexed, like I’m ill.”

Skeet mused. “It makes me feel powerful. Stronger.”

Hakon shrugged, trying to hide his discomfort. Skeet was about to quip that it was probably The Drums’ way of warding off an air sucker, but someone ahead called out.

“Light!”

The tunnel in which they were walking suddenly split open, and the roof tapered into a ceiling that stretched upward into a great cavern. Ancient tunnels and passageways were carved into the rock all around them and above them. A series of slices into the rock above allowed the day’s light to stream into the cavern, highlighting broken blocks of stone that were once homes. Hundreds of Terra wandered about the floor or on the walkways against the tall walls.