Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,75

tightened. He turned and strode purposefully to Elyea kneeling beside the brothers, the little man’s body lying across Athryn’s midsection, hiding the wound. Ghaul grabbed the back of Maes’ tunic.

“What are you doing?” Elyea glared at him. Ghaul stopped and looked at her, his fingers curled grasping the cloth.

“We can’t wait here until the magician gets up and dances a jig. The blood of the king gets farther from us every second we delay pursuing the one-eyed man.”

She looked away. “Be gentle with him.”

Ghaul rolled Maes aside. The dagger tumbled from the little man’s limp fingers to the blood soaked sand. Khirro and Shyn moved closer, but blood covered everything, concealing wounds and flesh.

“Water,” Ghaul commanded.

Khirro retrieved the water skin from his pack, nearly tripping on the stiletto buried in the sand as he did. He retrieved the blade and returned with the water for Ghaul. The warrior yanked the cork and splashed Athryn’s belly, the water turning pink as it rolled down his sides. It took three washings to expose clean flesh. Instead of hanging innards, a long scar stretched across his stomach.

“It worked,” Elyea whispered. She looked into Athryn’s face, a smile tugging the corner of her lips, then she looked to Maes and the smile disappeared.

“It seems there was magic in the little one, too—tongue or no,” Shyn said.

Ghaul harrumphed and handed the water skin back to Khirro. “I’m glad one of them lives,” he said, the sentiment not reflected in his tone. “But we have a thief to catch.”

“We can’t leave yet.” Khirro stared at the spot on Athryn’s belly where he’d replaced his intestines not long ago. “We have to give him a chance to recover.”

He looked at each of his companions.

Ghaul gritted his teeth. “The one-eyed man took the king’s blood,” he said gesturing toward the forest. “Have you forgotten why we came to this God-forsaken land? Without it we are merely a group of fools waiting to die for no reason.”

“We’ll find him,” Shyn said.

Ghaul shook his head. “This man is no farmer. He knows the ways of both hunter and prey and won’t be easy to track.” He looked at the others and Khirro refrained from showing his offense at the warrior’s choice of words. “We’ll leave Khirro and Elyea here to tend the magician while we find the one-eyed man.”

“No,” Khirro said. “We shouldn’t separate. To do so in the haunted land would mean death to us all.”

“He’s right,” Shyn said. “We’ll have better luck tracking him come daylight, anyway.”

The muscles in Ghaul’s jaw visibly clenched and released, clenched and released. He crossed his arms, his brow furrowed.

“Every moment we spend here costs us.”

Shyn put his hand on Ghaul’s shoulder. “Worry not. I’ll find him.”

“Oh, the great tracker honors us again.” Ghaul shrugged away from Shyn’s touch. “Perhaps we should wait for winter. It will be easier to follow his tracks in the snow.”

Shyn’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardened.

“Did I not bring horses when I promised?” Both men’s hands fell to their swords. “Was it not I who warned you the one-eyed man pursued us?”

Ghaul eyed him warily, fingers tightening on the hilt.

“Yes, tell us how you knew of the one-eyed man? He followed from a different direction than you came with the horses. How do you explain that?”

“Stop it,” Elyea said. “Both of you stop it.”

“No, he’s right.” Shyn’s voice sounded different, almost relieved. Khirro gaped. Had he been wrong about the man? “I owe an explanation.”

The border guard released his grip on his sword and stepped away. His gaze slipped from theirs, finding instead the ground and the pool of moonlight casting his shadow there.

At first, Khirro thought what he saw a trick of the light. Shadows crawled across Shyn’s face like a cloud across the sky, distorting and discoloring it. Shyn looked up at them, eyes glowing with yellow light, then he cried out, doubled over in pain. Khirro took a step toward him but Ghaul blocked his way.

“No,” he said. “Let’s see what happens.”

Shyn dropped to his knees, hands covering his face as he cried out again. Khirro stared, concern and curiosity locking his gaze firmly on his companion. The night’s trickery continued, making it seem as though Shyn became smaller, but Khirro soon saw this was no illusion—the border guard’s mail shirt hung loosely from his shoulders, his hands disappeared up the sleeves of his tunic. When he looked up, he no longer looked like the man who’d accompanied them from the border: his nose grew