Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,101

flattened, the trees thinned and travel became easier. Each step carried them farther from the grotesqueries of the ruined village, each mile from it bettering their moods. Elyea slept fitfully, calling out sometimes, but she calmed. Khirro dreamed of the mud child the first few nights, but the image faded with distance until it no longer disturbed his sleep.

It was Khirro’s turn to scout, a task he didn’t relish, but only Elyea was excused from the duty—against her will. As he walked, he hummed a working song his father sang in the days before the accident, distracting himself from his discomfort. He didn’t remember the words—something about an aching back and a good harvest—but the melody remained. No other sounds disturbed the forest: no animals, no wind, no chirping birds or buzzing insects. Khirro stopped, listening when he thought he heard something, the melody halted halfway through a verse, but only the same silence that dogged them from the time they landed in the haunted land came to his ear. He held his breath, waiting.

The sound was quiet but, in the silence of the forest, it couldn’t be mistaken. A groan made by the throat of a man.

Khirro looked over his shoulder. His companions followed too far behind to be seen or heard. He hesitated, unsure if he should investigate or wait for the others.

What would a soldier do?

Ghaul or Shyn would continue, he decided. He drew a deep breath, seeking courage in the air entering his lungs.

The noise again, ahead and to the south. Louder this time.

What if it’s a giant?

The giants’ sounds had been similar to a man’s, but this... If not a man, Khirro couldn’t guess what would make the noise. But could there be men in the haunted land?

Not friendly ones.

Khirro drew the Mourning Sword and pulled the shield from his back. Fear tingled his limbs but the past weeks had taught him to accept it and move forward. Without fear there was no bravery, no courage. One didn’t dispel the other, they were inseparable, like fire and air.

He crept forward, choosing his steps carefully. Another moan, closer. He adjusted his grip on the sword. Some nights Shyn practiced with him, helping improve his skills, but as he advanced, the sword held out in front of him, it felt like it didn't belong in his hands.

Sounds behind him—his companions catching up. The moaning man must have heard because he spoke, removing all doubt as to the nature of the noise maker.

“Wha...? What’s that? Dolum, did you hear something?” His voice was weak, tired. No one answered his question. “Who goes there?”

Khirro filled his lungs and thought about waiting for the others, but if he did and it turned out to be a trap, they’d be trapped along with him. He’d known the time to prove himself a soldier would come, might as well be now. Bellowing his best war cry, hoping to both frighten his adversaries and alert his friends, Khirro sprang forward at a run. He only covered ten paces when he saw the voice’s source.

Five men languished before him, each held immobile in the earth, one buried to his chin, the least to his waist. Khirro halted. Without doubt, two no longer lived: one’s entrails had been pulled out by something as the quickearth held him helpless; another stared skyward sightlessly, swollen tongue lolling, face purple. The eyes of the man sunk to his chin were closed, but Khirro didn’t know whether he lived or not.

“Who’s there?”

The man buried to his chest, one arm pinned at his side, struggled to look over his shoulder. All the men wore Erechanian armor.

“What happened?” Khirro asked as he crept around the edge of the trees.

“Quickearth. Thank the Gods you’re here. Most of my troop has perished, eaten by the very earth on which we walk.”

“How many?”

“Twenty.”

Khirro stopped, stared at the man and his four companions. “‘But there are only—”

“The others are gone. The ground devoured them like a beast.” A battle axe lay on the ground beside the man, blood dried on its edge. “There was no sign of the quickearth until we were upon it, then it sucked us down like a hungry animal.”

Khirro crept to where the soldier could see him; the man’s eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing here?” Khirro asked warily.

“Find a branch and pull me out.”

“But you—”

“Hurry,” the man snapped. “When the earth is done with the others, it will take me, too.”

Khirro hunted through the underbrush, careful to stand on stones and