Kadin and the Noble's Daughter, Michael E. Shea [digital ebook reader .TXT] 📗

Kadin and the Noble’s Daughter

by Michael E. Shea

Kadin loved the desert. Many creatures lived in the desert. Some learned to survive within her harsh burning grip. Some even learned to thrive in her, building stone monuments to themselves and living their lives surrounded in the lavish luxuries of Gods. How puny their monuments were compared to the desert herself.

Where they had castles surrounded by dry moats, the desert had mountains surrounded by thousand year sandstorms. Where they had silks and the most beautiful slaves serving their every greatest desire, she had dunes that stretched for a thousand leagues and a sun that burned huge and deep crimson in the violet sky. Where desert kings, the Danken, dined on the finest food and drank the finest wine, the desert drank every drop of water from the air itself and feasted on men.

Kadin knew the desert. He knew her voice whispering in the dark of night like a dangerous lover. The sound he heard now was not her voice but a cry from one trapped within the desert’s teeth. It was the cry of a woman.

Kadin rose from his makeshift bed in the dip of two dunes. He stood quickly, tying the leather straps of his knife belt around his waist. He pulled on his boots and silently mounted White Ash. THe mare felt his soft touch and made no sound.

Kadin listened and heard the cry again. He studied the dunes in the darkness of night. THe blood moon painted the desert a deep red. He felt the echos and turned White Ash towards their origin. He rode quietly into the night.

Kadin saw the glow of torchlight long before cresting the hill. He guessed four riders from the sound of their horses and confirmed it when he rose above them.

Three men, now on foot, chased a woman in black across the dune. Their horses stood back, panting from a hard ride. The woman’s own stallion lay dead, a black arrow buried in its flank.

The smallest of the three men caught her first, grappling her legs. She went down into the sands. The other two, one tall and carrying a spear; the other huge and armored in dark steel, slowed their running to a walk.

“Don’t break her before we’ve even started,” yelled the big man. The woman cried as the smaller man turned her over.

Kadin dismounted and slid down the dune on the soft soles of his boots.

“Quite a run!” said the tallest man. As he got closer, Kadin saw the black plate and leather armor, the cut of the boot, and the shroud that protected their necks from both sun and blade. These were Dan Trex’s men, soldiers from the slave army.

The smallest of the men ripped open the woman’s black garb. Kadin saw her white skin in the flicker of the man’s discarded torch burning near by. He would have to move fast if he wanted to learn anything before things got too far.

“Hello,” said Kadin. All three men turned and looked at him. The woman kicked out but the small man grabbed her ankle and pinned it down without turning his eyes from Kadin. He was fast.

“Fly, desert rat. Or we will rape you too just for spite,” said the big man. The man’s tone put Kadin off. The big man should have taken more time before dismissing Kadin so quickly.

“Is she a ransom?” said Kadin.

“A lost flower in the desert, bandit. Now go,” said the tall spear wielder.

Kadin thought of correcting the man’s assumption but changed his mind. Something in the big man’s parlay got under his skin. It was careless and there was no room for mistakes in the desert.

“Perhaps I will have a chat with her first,” said Kadin.

“Perhaps I will stick this spear in your arse,” said the tall man. He turned towards Kadin and lunged. Kadin turned and the spear buried itself in the sand. He drew Nightwhisper and cut easily through the hardwood shaft. Kadin grabbed the remaining severed shaft and pulled. The tall man fell forward. Kadin angled the point of his blacksteel knife and stabbed under the plate of the man’s armor. The man screamed.

“Shit,” said the big man in the black steel armor. He turned and drew a curved sword from his belt. He circled Kadin, his sword in one hand and a burning torch in the other. He threw the torch end over end at Kadin and rushed in as it flew. Kadin sidestepped the torch, spun his knife into a reverse grip, and turned into the swing of the man’s sword. Kadin planted his foot and twisted as the big man plowed into him. Both men fell into a pile and Kadin heard the satisfying pop of the man’s ankle. Kadin pinned the man’s arm out with his boot and cut hard four times, once across the belly, once under the left arm, once under the seam of the breastplate, and once under the leather collar. Blood rushed from the wounds. The man gurgled, spat, cursed, and died.

Kadin stood. Blood ran down his chest. The third man narrowed is eyes. He drew a long dagger and prepared to stab the screaming woman. She twisted, giving Kadin enough time to throw. The blade spun and hit, but not point first. The hilt of his knife caught the man in the jaw, sending him back. Kadin swept up the curved blade at his feet and rushed in. Before the small man could raise any defense, Kadin cut hard. His first cut was not mortal but his second one was. He picked up Nightwhisper as the man died and the desert drank his blood.

Kadin turned and saw the woman pulling her black clothes over her bare skin.

“Hello, desert flower,” said Kadin.

Kadin burned the fire in a low valley. It would remain unseen this low on the horizon and echos would warn him well in advance of any intruders. The girl sat close to the warmth of the fire, her eyes moving from the fire to Kadin and back. Kadin handed her a ceramic cup of herb broth and boiled lean meat. She sipped it and chewed the meat.

“What is your name?” asked Kadin.

“Lenda,” the girl whispered. Kadin offered her a skin of water he had taken from the Trex soldiers’ horses.

“What brings you out of Gazu Tazar?”

“My father.”

“You travel to him?”

“No”

“You flee from him? Why?”

“If I had stayed, my father would feed me to a devil.”

She had been frightened when Dolan had come into their house screaming. Her father had cursed and rushed into the audience hall of their manor. Dolan continued screaming, his two slave diggers holding him up. Lenda heard the blood spattering on the stone floor. Grel and Alakar came in from the opposite hall with blades in their hands.

“The buggering stone coffin bit me!” screamed Dolan. “Chewed at my hand like a hyena.” Dolan’s feet went out from under him and he fell. Blood pooled under him. Lenda’s father pulled back the wet cloth around Dolan’s hand. Lenda caught a glimpse of ragged hanging flesh and white bone. Dolan screamed again.

“Where?” said her father.

“The dig under the temple of Dim. In the lower vaults. There was a red ruby as big as your fist in a hollow in the center of a sarcophagus. I wanted to get it, to bring it to you. But the stone bit me.” Dolan went white and stopped talking.

Lenda could have stayed there but the sight of Dolan’s bleeding frightened her. And talk of a red ruby? That she had to see.

Lenda’s father had spent twenty years, Lenda’s whole life, digging under the temples of Gazu Tazar. Though of noble’s blood, her father’s love of shining treasures and expensive women kept him continually seeking the lost treasures of the old empire.

The air got cold the moment Grel lowered Lenda into the shattered hole leading into the crypt. Lanterns painted the stone in orange. Faces, eyeless and horrible, grinned from carvings along the walls. Figures, tall and lean, often stripped of skin, clutched naked girls.

In the center of the buried tomb lay a stone sarcophagus. A whole cut through its center. Blood spread all around the hole.

Lenda’s father drew his finger across the top of the sarcophagus leaving a clean line through centuries of thick dust. He leaned forward and peered into the hollow. Red light gleamed in his eyes and he smiled.

“Dolan put his hand in and grabbed it?” he asked to the slaves. One slave nodded. “And blades severed his hand. A crude trap for such a place. He peered in again, using his torch to shine light into the hole. “There are grooves inside. They are channeling Dolan’s blood.”

The next moments flowed into Lenda’s mind like a dream. She heard the deep thud and rasp of rusted metal. At first she thought one of the men had dropped something but they all leapt back as the sarcophagus lid split and fell open.

An ancient husk of a man lay inside, covered in dust. Dolan’s blood covered his face and torso.

It’s eyes opened.

Twin orbs of black focused on Lenda. She screamed. Grel lifted his greatsword and raised it over his head. Lenda heard a pop inside Grel’s head and saw blood rush from his nose in a flood. The large man stumbled backward and fell. Lenda’s father barked incomprehensible orders. Alakar drew his knife from his belt. One slave fainted and the other spoke rapidly in a tongue Lenda had never heard. Panic filled her.

Lenda ran.

A day and a night passed. Lenda floated through her home, eating food with no taste and drinking water as dry as sand. She did not sleep. Any time her eyes closed she saw orbs of shining black staring at her.

They came early in the morning while the sun hid under the earth and the blood moon rose high. Her father stepped in and Lenda let out a sigh of pure relief. She ran down the stairs but stopped when Grel stepped in behind him. His left eye was empty of any consciousness. His right was filled with blood. He carried his sword but his whole body moved stiff. His skin was white. Alakar came in next. He looked little different than normal. His blade was still in his hand.

The man from the crypt came in behind the other three. Everything about him had changed but his black eyes. His skin was pale but otherwise normal. HIs black hair hung down over a black cloak. He wore an expensive velvet tunic and high boots with black trousers.

“Come down, my dear.” Her father’s voice cut through her panic. Her father looked at her unblinking. “We have a guest.”

Lenda’s feet moved with a mind of their own. She felt as though her body belonged to someone else.

“Come meet our guest,” said her father. Lenda’s throat was dry. She poured a silver pitcher of water into a pewter glass. The black eyes of the stranger burrowed into her.

She approached. Her father and his men stepped aside. THe man stood tall, his face white against his dark hair and dark clothes. He reached towards her with long fingers and Lenda heard him speak in her mind. Unknown words and dark visions flowed past. She