exposed where part of the bank had eroded away. Kian tied the mare to one of its roots and pulled Julian up under the overhanging bank. It wasn’t much, but it let them at least keep the rain off their heads.
Julian had not stirred since the wolf attack. He was still wrapped in the torn cloak and Kian covered him with the blanket from his pack. It was not much drier than the cloak, but it seemed like the thing to do.
It took until nightfall for the warrior to build a fire, the wood being soaked from the rain. He finally ripped his pack into pieces after it had dried, and he used flint and steel to light it. It was well after dark before the fire offered any warmth at all. Kian leaned back against the cold damp soil exhausted and kept watch over the boy.
“Kian, are you awake?” The Half Elf opened his eyes and saw Julian staring at him. Kian was shocked; he thought he would have to care for the boy several days before he could move around. “Julian you shouldn’t be up, how do you feel?” he asked.
Julian looked at his bandaged shoulder. “Better, it doesn’t hurt much. I’m sure I can ride.”
Kian shook his head, as he examined the shoulder. The wound had looked much worse to him before, but now that the rain had cleaned away the blood it didn’t look so bad. “The wolf killed your horse Julian, you will have to ride double with me.”
“Oh” was all Julian said, but Kian could tell the death of the horse bothered him. Kian breathed a sigh of relief—the attack could have turned out much worse.
***
Julian’s wound had gotten better with each passing day. By the time the pair rode into Phlosha, the boy was all but healed. The Hillmen of Phlosha were clannish and had no King. Each village or town was led by a hetman or chieftain. The clans often made war against each other—the only time the Phloshains united as a country was to repel an outside invader.
The two travelers rode through the hills and vales for several days enjoying their beautiful surroundings and warmer weather. Kian found himself trying to delay finding Julian a home—he was beginning to enjoy the boy’s company. The half-breed had never had a friend. He didn’t count Gildor; he had been more like a father. Julian was the closest thing to a friend Kian ever had, and he liked the feeling. He knew he would have to leave him though; it would be far too dangerous for the boy to come along with him.
A few days later Kian found a small village nestled in a green valley. The men of the village met him wearing their traditional kilts. They had donned chainmail and armed themselves with sword and spear. He explained that he wished to leave the boy with them. “Leave him and go half-breed. Your ungodly kind is not welcome here.” Kian didn’t argue, he had expected worse.
The boy looked unhappy as Kian prepared to leave. “This is Farwell, Julian. I hope you do well here.”
“Can’t I come with you, Kian?”
The swordsman’s throat tightened; he hoped the boy wouldn’t do this. “No, Julian. I’m going home to Thieves Port to see my mother and brother and that is no place a young man like you should be.”
“Maybe we will see each other again?” the boy said hopefully. Kian knew that wasn’t likely, but he didn’t want to disappoint Julian any further. “I’m sure I will pass this way again someday when I do I will find you.” Kian handed the reins of the horse to Julian and took the pouch from his belt and gave it to the boy. It held the few copper coins he had left.
Julian tried to hand the horse’s reins back to the Half Elf. “You can have the horse, Kian, and you might need the money to get home.”
Kian smiled thinly at the boy and patted him on the shoulder. “The horse belongs to you, Julian and perhaps the money will keep you fed for a while until you make a start here.” Kian waved goodbye to Julian and headed to the south, a pauper.
Chapter 2
The city of Turill hadn’t change much since Prince Cain had been gone. The capital city of Bandara still teemed with people. The streets near the sea were heavy with tradesmen and merchants loading and unloading goods from the ships in Fair Wind Harbor.