Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,19
sword. Here.”
He tossed him a sheathed dagger and Khirro barely released the sword in time to catch it. Gendred’s dagger felt heavy in his hand, not comfortable like the sword. Guilt made the weapon feel weighty.
“We shouldn’t take these. They’re not ours.”
Ghaul shook his head. “This a matter of survival, not personal gain.”
“But I—”
“They gave their lives for their king and country, for this journey. Certainly they wouldn’t hesitate to give a few of their belongings.”
Khirro sighed and tucked the dagger into his belt. Ghaul was right—he shouldn’t feel bad pilfering from his dead fellows. They’d have given everything for their king. In fact, they had.
“Now this he might not have wanted to give up to me,” Ghaul said with a laugh as he brandished the fallen Kanosee archer’s bow. He slung it over his shoulder and spat on the corpse. “I hope the shithawks have a good meal of your balls, pig.”
High overhead, two dark shapes circled. The smell of blood had already attracted carrion feeders, and the birds would eventually attract attention from the fortress.
“Let’s go before they swoop down and take our eyes by mistake.”
Ghaul climbed down into the ditch first, moving with the athleticism of a practiced soldier. Khirro slid down the side painfully, skidding against the dirt side and coming to a jarring stop at the bottom. He gritted his teeth, determined not to cry out.
The trench’s earthy odor reminded Khirro of home where the aroma of turned dirt was a constant in his life. His family would be readying for the summer harvest, storing some away and taking the rest to market to trade for meats and staples they’d need for winter. The thought made his heart ache. Emeline would be with her parents doing the same. He longed to be there, to tend to her while her belly swelled. At least she’d be safe.
I hope.
Khirro breathed in the normally comforting smell but it offered no solace this time. He swayed on his injured leg, grappling for balance, then started after Ghaul.
Don’t dwell on the past, it holds only sadness now.
Easy to think, difficult to do.
He didn’t want to think of his future, either, for the complete unknown of it held only dread. As the fortress wall receded behind, his boots splashed in a trickle of water snaking down the middle of the trench. He tottered along the bottom of the ditch trying to calm his spinning head and a sound came to his ears, a rumble as if distant thunder spoke to him. He glanced up at the cloudless sky, confused for a moment before he identified the sound as hooves beating dry ground.
“They’re coming,” Ghaul said.
Chapter Eight
The sounds were small and far away. Khirro stopped to listen while his companion continued along the dusty path, pace unchanged. Sunlight streamed over the edge of the ditch though they walked in shadow. Early evening. They had a head start on their pursuers.
King’s soldiers or Kanosee?
The death birds might have drawn their attention, but more likely one of the regular patrols discovered the battleground. Or maybe the Kanosee come through the drainage system again without the Shaman’s magic to hold them back.
No, too much noise to be the enemy.
Khirro scrambled up the side of the ditch, careful of his aching leg, and hoisted himself above the edge. He heard shouts and the sound of horses, but the tall grass blocked his view. He pushed himself up farther, straining to see. Another inch higher and his eyes would be clear of the grass.
A hand gripped his belt, yanked him back and brought him tumbling from his perch. His back slammed against the ground, leaving him gazing again at the clear blue sky. He wished he could float away into it, leave behind the pain in his leg, the fear of the curse, flee from the vial at his breast and the pool of water collecting at his shoulder. Then Ghaul’s silhouette blocked his freedom.
“Are you trying to get us killed? We’ll be easy enough to track in this dirt. Would you make their task easier by signaling them?”
Khirro shook his head as the water soaking his breeches and the fresh pain in his tail bone erased thoughts of a better place. This was the only place for him, the only place he could be. And Ghaul was right—had Khirro seen them, then they might have seen him, too.
Why can’t I think more like a soldier? More like Ghaul.