Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,80

words.” He paused as a wave of emotion contorted his face, shook his shoulders. “I believed neither of us complete without the other, until this. Until he made the ultimate sacrifice. Maes was complete.”

Elyea reached out, her fingers brushing Athryn’s arm, but he pulled away, stepping from the shade on to the sandy beach. Ghaul opened his mouth to say something, but a gesture from Athryn stopped him.

“He did not need me after all,” he said, his voice weak. “I could not have done the same for him.”

He stumbled away down the beach to be alone with his anguish.

The contempt in Ghaul’s voice was obvious, like he spoke to a child who’d asked a question beneath consideration.

“No. It would be suicide to bring a decomposing corpse with us through the haunted land.” He held up his hand, ticking off reasons on his fingers as he spoke. “It will slow us. It will make us ill. It will attract animals I’d rather not encounter. We have a thief to catch—we must move swiftly.”

“The one-eyed man moves quickly,” Shyn said.

He’d rejoined them at nightfall, reporting on the one-eyed man’s progress as he dressed. Khirro told him what happened in his absence and soon after Athryn expressed his wish to take Maes with them.

“I must take my brother to the Necromancer,” Athryn said, his voice flat. “I must bring him back from the dead, no matter the cost.”

Ghaul sneered. “I’m happy to know you’d so readily sacrifice my life for the midget.”

Athryn didn’t react to the warrior's words.

“Could the Necromancer bring life back to a rotted corpse?” Elyea’s compassionate tone struck Khirro—her life would be in as much danger as Ghaul’s, yet she still held concern for her friends.

“Darestat is the most powerful. I do not know he could, but I do not know he could not. When Maes put the blade to his wrist, he did not know if the magic would work, yet he drained his lifeblood to save me. I cannot do anything but try.”

“You forget why we are here,” Shyn said, his tone a counter-balance between Ghaul’s anger and Elyea’s sympathy—the voice of reason. “We must recover the blood of the king. If we fail in that, all will be lost and we may all die.”

“Shyn’s right,” Khirro said mimicking the border guard’s tone. “It’s the king who’s important. It’s why we’re here.” He glanced at Athryn, hoping he wouldn’t take his comments as belittling Maes’ sacrifice, but he felt the pressure of time. The longer they tarried, the longer the one-eyed man’s lead. “The Shaman said not to open the vial. If the blood dried up, the life would be gone. Maes emptied his blood into your wound, so a withered body will be equally useless to the Necromancer.”

“If we made it,” Ghaul glowered. “The smell would attract predators and carrion eaters to us like flies to shit.”

Athryn stared past them into the night and the sea beyond. Khirro followed his gaze out over the ocean to the stars glimmering in the dark sky. When he looked back, a crooked smile crinkled the unscarred corner of Athryn’s mouth.

“You are right, Khirro. Thank you for showing me the error of my judgment.” He glanced to where his brother’s body lay nearby in the sand. “Let us purify his body with fire, set his soul free to the winds for the Gods to collect.”

Athryn struck out to collect driftwood for his brother’s funeral pyre, leaving the others to do the same and wonder at his sudden change of heart. Khirro wandered down the beach, finding suitable pieces of wood as he followed the line of the forest, but he didn’t dare stray into it. None of them did. Any forest is dangerous after dark, one in the haunted land more so. As Khirro made his way back to the spot for the pyre, Athryn joined him.

“Thank you, Khirro.”

“For what?”

“What you said made sense. In my grief, I had forgotten.” A tear glistened in his eye; Khirro bent to retrieve another chunk of driftwood.

“I don’t understand.”

“I am Maes’ only chance now. I carry my brother’s blood, much like you will again carry the king’s.”

Khirro’s brow creased. He felt as though Athryn spoke to him in some foreign tongue, like when he cast a spell. His companion must have seen his confusion because he leaned closer, lowering his voice like they shared a secret.

“I have no vial of blood, Khirro. I am the vial. The blood of my brother courses through my