Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,20

be on our trail soon. We mustn’t waste our lead.”

Ghaul offered his hand and Khirro took it. The warrior hoisted him to his feet, spun on his heel and continued without waiting.

“How much farther before the ditch ends?” Khirro brushed dirt from his breeches, grimacing at the pain in his rump and his leg as he hurried to catch up.

“Not far. The sides are not so steep anymore.”

The yellow grass-trimmed edge—well above their heads when they entered the ditch—had dipped to Ghaul’s height. Khirro shook his head, frustrated he hadn’t noticed the change. He’d been trained as a soldier of the king, endured the same hardships as other recruits, even as Ghaul had at some point, yet still couldn’t make his head work in the manner of a soldier. How far apart to plant corn or when to harvest crops he knew without putting thought to it, but observing his surroundings or remembering not to reveal his location were things yet beyond him. He hoped time would improve his skills, but there wasn’t time for practice, not when everything was life or death. If a crop languished in the ground too long, there would be other crops and other years, other farmers from whom to purchase food. The same couldn’t be said of a soldier. One mistake could end everything.

Why did the Shaman think I could do this?

As Gendred said: a dirt farmer would do nothing but get in the way. If he could release himself from this curse, pass it on to someone else, he’d do so without second thought. A real warrior like Ghaul would be better suited.

Khirro reached beneath his jerkin and brought the vial from its hiding place, held it up toward the sky. The sun shone through it, turning it into a glowing liquid ruby.

The king’s blood. The fate of a kingdom in a small glass vial.

“Ghaul?” His companion responded with a grunt but neither stopped nor turned toward him. “How long have you been a soldier?”

“I am the son of a soldier’s son. Ten summers had tanned my skin when I joined the town garrison.”

“I’m not a soldier. My place is digging in the earth, providing for my family, selling my crops at market.” He rolled the vial in his fingers watching the blood ebb and flow.

“A noble profession when there’s no war.” With Ghaul’s back to him, Khirro couldn’t gauge the sincerity of his words. “But these are dark times, the darkest you or I have seen. I was barely out of swaddling clothes when Braymon took the crown.”

“Have you fought before?”

“Your archer friend is not the first blood my sword has tasted.”

“When war comes, they make a farmer become a soldier,” Khirro said curling his fingers about the vial. The feel of it gave him comfort. “But when war is ended, no one asks the warrior to become a farmer.”

“Better for both of us.” Ghaul chuckled. “The kingdom will always need protecting, as its people will always need feeding. Neither is more important than the other, each of us is a small part of the greater whole.”

Khirro considered his words. Perhaps he did mean what he said.

“Do you know how far apart to plant corn? When to harvest potatoes?”

This time Ghaul stopped. Khirro hid the vial behind his injured thigh without knowing why. Something in him made him want to protect it—all the time, at any cost.

“They grow in the ground and they’re ready when they sit upon my plate, that’s all I know. Do you know how many ways you can kill a man with your bare hands? I’m no better with a plow than you are with a spear, but if I needed to know, I’d learn. It’s our lot to do what’s asked of us.”

Khirro couldn’t dispute Ghaul’s words. It seemed his companion may be more than the average soldier—not just a killing machine bred to serve. Perhaps, with Ghaul’s help, he would reach the Necromancer, and perhaps the kingdom could be saved. A warm feeling spread through Khirro, calming him, but he quickly realized it wasn’t emotion or certainty, duty or loyalty. The feeling didn’t emanate from his heart or his head or his gut. Instead, the feeling flowed from his leg.

No, not from my leg—into my leg. The vial.

Ghaul started moving again, talking to Khirro over his shoulder.

“We approach the end, then there’s some distance to the forest. We have to move swiftly.”

Khirro nodded but didn’t immediately follow. The mute heat flowed into the muscle of his