Gods of Blood and Fire - A. J. Strickler Page 0,5

their right, the Swordsman and the boy rode on through Trimenia. The country was bleak and the soil rocky. Though rain blew in from the sea quite often, there were few farms; in most places the soil was just too thin to grow a crop. As they made their way south and the mountains grew distant, large pine and sycamore trees began to line the road. The rocky hills gave way to the dark and eerie forests of southern Trimenia.

Kian was pleased that they had not run into many others traveling on the road. The only traffic had been the two tinker wagons they had seen. The tinkers traveled the roads from village to village, fixing people tools and utensils. They were well known for keeping to themselves and didn’t give Kian and Julian a second glance.

Kian was afraid if they ran into the wrong people along the way there could be trouble because of his lineage. He had the boy with him now and didn’t want to risk putting Julian in danger, so they moved along as quickly and quietly as they could. He could pass as a human at a glance; unlike true Elves he had some facial hair. He could not grow a full beard but left unshaved his face had enough stubble to help hide his true identity. Closer inspection however would reveal his mother’s high cheekbones and tapering chin and his flawless skin—not to mention if someone happened to see his ears not truly pointed like an Elf’s but too upswept to deny his blood.

Trimenia was not known for its friendly people, his master had told him. He would wait until they rode into Phlosha to find a place for Julian. When he told Julian what he intended the boy offered him no argument. The hill people of Phlosha were fierce fighters, but Gildor had said they were not an unfriendly folk—at least to other humans. He would try to find a village that would allow the boy to stay and leave Julian there. He used to complain about the old man’s insistence on him learning to read and write. Gildor made him study the Kingdoms of the world and their histories. Maps had also been a favorite of the old man; he said it was always good to know where you were and where you were going. He regretted giving Gildor such a hard time about the education his old master wanted him to have. Now that he had left the valley he saw the wisdom of it.

“Was your father a warrior too?” The boy’s question shook him from his daydreaming.

“I don’t know, Julian, I never knew my father.”

The boy looked confused. “Did he die like mine?”

“You ask a great deal of questions,” Kian said.

“There is nothing else to do when you ride but talk.” The Half Elf shrugged. The boy had a point. “You are right, Julian it’s just been a long time since I had someone to talk to, you will have to excuse my lack of manners. To answer your question, I don’t know if my father is alive or dead because I don’t know who he was. My mother never told me. When I asked her, she always said it was not important.”

“Where do you come from, Kian?” The boy was very chatty, Kian thought. The Half Elf was not much of a talker, and he didn’t like to talk about himself at all. He was a soft-spoken man and had spent a great deal of time alone. It was hard for him to answer the boy’s questions. “I was born in the free city of Thieves Port.”

“Did you have a nice home?”

“I think that is enough questions for today, Julian, we should start looking for a place to stop for the night.” The boy stopped talking. Kian could tell he was a little disappointed his interrogation had been cut off. He didn’t want to tell the boy he grew up in a brothel and his mother was the rarest of the houses assets, an Elven whore. Human men loathed the Elven race, but many overlooked the fact to lay with his mother for a night. He couldn’t tell this young boy the story of his childhood. He was not ashamed of his mother; he just didn’t wish to discuss lewd details of a brothel with a boy. The story of his childhood was not a happy one, and it was better left in the past.

***

As they traveled farther south