The Sagas of Dxaan Lere

By Victor Michaels

The first book begins with the departure of Oaran and Sicajes, the parents of the title character from their homeland. During the journey foreshadowing events and flashbacks bring an understanding of their decisions and of the history of their world. During the journey Dxaan is born and pivotal characters develop relationships that will mold the newborn’s life and the future of their world.

He spends his youth in a land strange to his parents. Filled with fearless curiosity he ventures out to the market place where he meets N’Tres, a member of the Inner Circle. These individuals, known as dragon keepers walk the land in the service of Zorid, the Dragonlord. After learning of the library beneath Dragon Keep and the secrets held there by the Zorid Dxaan unwillingly finds himself coerced onto a path he was born to walk.

Dxaan ventures back with his parents to their homeland and the Eternal Forest where his maternal grandfather is gravely ill. Past enemies intercede and dxaans life is changed forever via a series of events that force him into manhood. Having no developed connection with the people of the forest he ventures out alone, searches the land for his mother and more over the answers that would justify his life.

Assisted by past associations and endearing new ones this boy must now prove himself, to the world of Lons Gladin and ultimately to himself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victor Michaels
• Release date: Apr 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458187208

Victor Michaels

I was born in the lower east side of Manhattan in 56. My Puerto Rican parents moved around a few more years than moved to the country. Back then eastern Long Island was the country. We lived on a dirt road with several other families surrounded by woodlands still inhabited with wildlife. Soon progress came along and industry killed the magic of the woodlands.For the next 25 years or so I attended school, some college, tried marriage and failed. I eventually found love and have been so for the last 27 years.I began writing short stories for college and found I enjoyed the idea of seeing my imagination on paper. My big push came in 96-97, while living in Lancaster, Pennsylvania when I went from a standard electric typewriter to a PC. Seeing paragraphs at a single glance helped my thought processes. I took one of my ideas for a short story and eventually expanded into the manuscript you have before you.In 2004 we moved to Ruskin, just south of Tampa in Florida. A very small town that I believe had been known as the tomato capital. They still have festivals.Later that year, I was fortunate enough to meet my muse. Now in 2009 aided by ‘past associations and endearing new ones’ I have finish it.

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The Sagas of Dxaan Lere

By, Victor Michaels

Copyright © Angelo Rodriguez, Jr. 2011

Published on Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

First published by Author House 06/12/2009

Copyright © 2009 All rights reserved

Illustrations and map created by Angelo Rodriguez, Jr.

Copyright © 2007 by Library of Congress

This is a work of fiction.

All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious.

Any similarity to actual people or events is a coincidence and not intentional.

Edited by

Wilhelmina Groover

Michele Dine http://authortree.com/MDine

Camelia Nelson www.cammiesplace.com

Dedications

In memory of Toby

…the miracle that was his passing with all it put into motion.

For Mary, who got me started and Llamara, who read my first draft.

…and to my muse,

You know who you are. I could not have done it without you!

Lastly to my family and all the others,

Enjoy

To Vic,

"Thanks for being there, through it all.

Never giving up. Even when I did!"

Love

ORIGINAL CONCEPT FOR SESCLA KUR

ORIGINAL CONCEPT FOR WESTERN ESCARPMENT

CATACOMBS BENEATH DRAGON KEEP

CASTLE E’DROSH

FOREWORD

In late 2004, I had the privilege of meeting Victor Michaels. Then in 2005, I published my first book, and having shared this turning point with Victor he asked me to read his manuscript. I was honored but leery, it is difficult to critique any friend, and we had become very good friends. But, I soon learned that my concerns were unfounded. I was impressed from the start. The Sagas of Dxaan Lere, is a novel that propels the reader from the first page. Victor Michael’s ability draws you into his world and causes you to be utterly engrossed with his vivid descriptions. By the time, I had finished reading the story I insisted that he get on the path to publication.

So, I am both pleased and honored in recommending to you this great new Gothic fantasy novel.

Michele Dine

PREFACE

Victor Michaels was born of Puerto Rican descent in the lower east side of Manhattan in ‘53. His parents moved around a few more years then moved to the country. Back then, Eastern Long Island was country. Dirt roads with a few homes surrounded by woodlands inhabited with wildlife. Soon there after progress came along and industry killed the magic of the woodlands. He then graduated high school, tried marriage and failed. Eventually he found love and has been so for the last 28 years.

Sagas came from a story he wrote in college about a handicap boy. Taunted by his peers and the only child of a widowed farmer’s wife, he learns of real loneliness and of life’s true obstacles through his association with a renegade Indian Shaman. Michaels enjoyed seeing his imagination on paper. He recalls a professor’s words. Don’t worry about the grammar. He chuckles and adds, Even though it has been and is one of my most difficult obstacles. If not for the advice, I would have never gotten past the title.

In 2004, he and his partner moved to a small town south of Tampa. Once known as the tomato capital, Ruskin still has festivals. Later that year, he was fortunate enough to meet his, ‘muse.’

Michael’s fascination with Sci-Fi and Fantasy started with the films of the 50’s and 60’s and has taken him in the direction you now see before you. To enhance your experience he has placed Saga and other information on this website, www.DxaanLere.com.

Personal note from author:

Enjoy the journey that is, The Sagas of Dxaan Lere, and remember…You don’t have to dissect something to discover, what makes it tick? Just listen a little closer for the heartbeat. You can always kill it in the sequel. If you survive!

Victor Michaels

PROLOGUE

Oaran Lere, the Waterbearer and Sicajes Al Virre, daughter of the High Kinsman were married in the old warrior tradition. They all had much to celebrate. The barbarian hordes had been beaten back beyond the stone wall and a new life waited to be experienced without fear of war. The first war began before Sicajes was born. Oaran was just a child. Their fathers fought side by side. It claimed the lives of many. Now with the second war over, Oaran and Sicajes made secret plans. They did not wish to raise a child in the shadow of mountains, saturated with the blood of fallen comrades. Therefore, in the spring they decided to leave the valley. They would travel to Caravan’s Return and seek passage with a caravan bound for the distant land of Venthele.

CHAPTER I

All of Caravan’s Return was leery of the two strangers. Some of the workers had seen them the night before. Whispers spoke of two strangers, possibly a man and woman seeking passage across the desert. Rumors of their identities spread from campfire to campfire. When news of the strangers reached Vorik T’liquii, Oaran and Sicajes had already found their way to his caravan’s camp.

Now early morning, exhausted and hungry the newlyweds walked aimlessly amongst caravaneers. Oaran looking around as the caravan readied for the crossing took note of the snow wheels being mounted in place of the standard wagon wheels. Many years ago, a merchant traveling to Ice Walk got the idea from the redesigned ice sleds used during the drought.

If it works in snow why not sand, he must have said, thought Oaran of the merchant’s probable words as further memories of his father and those days entered his mind. It was his father, Anotod Lere, who helped in the modifications of the sleds and suggested having the people of Garthol Ridge transport glacial ice. Oaran was a mere boy when they coined the phrase, ‘Water Bearers.’ Lowering his head in quiet reverence, he softly murmured. Why can we not find the humanity my father showed so easily to others?

What was that? Sicajes asked.

Oh…nothing dear, it just feels strange, he answered thinking to himself, to see of my father’s work in the desert.

They continued walking quietly as they came upon the caravan leader. Reluctant to speak of anything outside of their destination, Oaran was willing to pay any price to travel with the caravan. T’liquii’s apprehension did not stop him from accepting the couple’s payment.

Now…that you have secured passage…have you given any thought as to supplies for the crossing?

Oaran hesitated as T’liquii moved in closer.

Have you lost your tongue? he asked looking down at the supplies gathered at their feet.

Yes. Oaran said answering his first questioned then responding sharply to his second. I mean no. What I mean is that...we... Oaran tried to find the words as he pointed to their belongings.

T’liquii put his hand up and gestured for Oaran to stop speaking. Sicajes standing off to the side widen her eyes in objection of the caravan leader’s manner. She followed his movements as he leaned to the right.

What have you? Not waiting for an answer, he stepped around Oaran slightly pushing him aside against Sicajes. He crouched down and half-heartedly went through their belongings as Oaran stood idly by him. Sicajes continued to glare with contempt. You have not given this much thought. His carelessness with their belongings infuriated Sicajes further. The crossing is long and a dangerous journey. Those provisions will not last. T’liquii turned his head and looked up at Oaran. You will help with the livestock and repairs.

That will be fine, Sir.

Then he turned to faced Sicajes. Oaran saw the usual disapproval coming from her and quickly stepped over and in between as T’liquii was about to speak. Even as a child, she had been outspoken with adults. A caravan leader was no exception. Reaching out Oaran took her hand and gently squeezed it. He quickly glanced back as she responded with a gentle squeeze of her own. Oaran half winked then returned his attention to the caravan leader, while he loosened his grip on her hand.

T’liquii had learned to watch the subtle interactions between merchants for many years. It has helped in his endeavors as a caravan leader. Applying these tactics has been invaluable when taking on new business or even a pair of secretive travelers. He so much enjoyed watching the quiet interactions between couples. He of course had not found someone of his own. The caravan has been his only love.

You will join the women’s wagons, he ordered. Sicajes held her tongue as she continued to stare defiantly back at T'liquii. There you will help with the cooking and washing. Pausing for a moment, he stared back at Oaran. This you will do as payment for the additional provisions needed by, looking back at Sicajes, both of you.

Sicajes’ has been a warrior all her adult life. Defiance had served her well in battle. Being of the Al Virre clan, she owed homage to a lineage that dated back hundreds of years. Oaran was very much aware of her warrior’s pride and of the times, they had spoken of it.

He nodded agreeing, My wife and I are in your debt. Looking over at Sicajes, he leaned in and shook T’liquii’s hand.

And you will work hard to pay that debt off, he pulled his hand back, folded his arms for a moment then walked away.

They spent the rest of the day preparing for the crossing. T’liquii received last minute cargo from several merchants. Oaran left with some of the other men to gather the last of the supplies while Sicajes went off to find the women’s wagon.

She found several women busy storing salted meats and grains. Two men worked the last layer of hide over wooden barrels loaded earlier that morning. Children played nearby as watchful mothers went about their duties. Some of the workers had traveled with the caravan for many years. It was a hard life to be born into as the desert life was passed down from generation to generation.

I am to help with the women’s work. The words left her mouth with a discernable distaste.

Waiting for a response she glanced around spotting the wooden barrels, she recognized the stains on the exterior. Just then, a couple of the women briefly looked up. There she stood proud and tall. The life of a bowmen warrior had made her lean and strong, and like her mother with an unusually deep sense of nature. Her spirit instinctively searched for the usual connections found in the forest. The lack of abundant life in the desert made her spirit uneasy. She could not have been more out of place.

The women giggled attracting the attention of the two men securing the hide to the water wagon. Sicajes quickly turned towards the men as she followed the women’s line of sight. The men returned to their task. She turned and approached the women repeating, I said. I have come to…

Just then, Sicajes caught a glimpse of an older woman coming around from the other side of the water wagon. She stopped and spoke with the two men securing the water wagon. Something different about her, she thought, maybe the... Sicajes let her thoughts go as the old woman neared. Sicajes spoke with a slight but distinctive disdain for what was to come.

I have been sent by T’liquii, looking back at the other women, to help with the women’s work.

The wine is to be delivered to Sescla Kur, grumbled the old woman.

Confused at first by the old woman’s remark Sicajes responded in question, Wine? looking back at the barrels, I was looking…someone… she held her words realizing this must be the midwife T’liquii spoke of earlier, …for you? Glancing angrily at the other women, she turned and added, But then you already know!

Ignoring her words, the old woman stood with her hands on her hips looking Sicajes over from head to toe. Let me see your hands. Good, now turn…around.

The old woman turned Sicajes one way then the other. She pulled on her hair and checked her ears. With every poke and prodding, Sicajes could feel the impatience growing. As a child, she never liked being touched or fussed over. How many times had she fought with Cyrtapia; her mother’s midwife when she tried combing her hair?

What is this? Am I to be auctioned off to the highest bidder like some prized sow? She stepped back and protested loudly as some of the others nearby began to take notice.

Silence child! The old woman commanded walking away.

She follows when the old woman turns and startles her. She draws her dagger and notices the other women as they stand up one by one in quiet terror watching the old woman approach.

That will be enough my child. Place back your blade to its sheath, the old woman calmly requested. You need not fear me, assured the old woman, I needed to be sure.

Not understanding, Sicajes huffed at the old woman’s intentions. Fear you? Others began to gather. Why did you startle me so? I could have injured you. She paused for a moment looking at the others coming closer. I am not afraid of anyone or anything, she boasted loudly squaring off as if waiting for a fight.

Good, half-heartedly answered the old woman.

Sicajes began to tremble from the anger building within her. She had not noticed Oaran and the other men approaching.

So, you have never done women’s work, the old woman responded walking over to check the work being done by the other women. Of that I am sure,

I have never done women’s work! Repeated Sicajes back to the old woman who now showed signs of being almost disinterested. Why would I do women’s work?’ she asked following the old woman, I am not a beast of burden! She felt her face go flush, as she could not contain the rage any longer. Do you have any idea who I am? stepping in the old woman’s path blocking her move. Let me tell you something, Sicajes leaned in, old woman. I am the daughter of..."

Sicajes! shouted Oaran as he came around the back of a wagon. That is no way to speak to an old woman.

Oaran, I was about...

Oaran pulled Sicajes over to the side. They spoke quietly of secrets and vows.

I know my love. It will get much more difficult to keep our goal in mind. Remember we must not put our trust in anyone. We are not in the Eternal Forest. These are strange surroundings. We are at the mercy of these desert people and must accept their ways.

Oaran listen to me. The old woman knows. She told me that I have never done women’s work. She purposely startled me. I drew my dagger when she caught me off guard.

You did what? Oaran turned to see most of the caravan staring back. T’liquii was off to the far right tending to business matters with a merchant representing a Triad.

Not many Triads remained after the disbanding by the Council. After the mercantile conflict, those that defied the ruling were forced to conduct business outside the influence of the Elders. They meet discreetly throughout the land in secret enclaves using a network made up of mercenaries and outlaws.

The Triads played a pivotal part in the history of the valley. They could have been an achievement worthy of legend. Instead, they unknowingly went down a dangerous path and began Lons Gladin’s journey into darkness and the very thing Oaran and Sicajes sought to escape.

There seems to be a problem with some of your caravan workers, said the merchant.

Not to worry. Just a couple of new recruits working their first crossing. It always happens. T’liquii quickly glanced over his shoulder. I knew these two would bring me trouble, he thought.

You have brought much attention our way, said Oaran as panic began to grip him. I will have to think of what to tell the caravan leader.

How about the truth? It always worked before, suggested Sicajes as she walked away. If the old woman, turning around, has figured something out it won’t be long before the others do. She glared waiting for his answer.

Long before the others what? T’liquii asked startling them both.

They had not heard him approach. Oaran felt an explanation would not help but proceeded with Sicajes’ suggestion nonetheless. We haven’t been totally honest. You see…we are not…um…who you think, confessed Oaran.

T’liquii stood grinning. In the past, Oaran’s patience had proven to be an invaluable. Sicajes on the other hand had not acquired as much of that virtue as Oaran would have liked.

Oaran? said Sicajes. Oaran!

My beloved can you see I am trying—

Just tell him!

You can not just come out with something like that.

Like what? began T’liquii, The fact that your wife is Sicajes Al Virre daughter of Lord Elogan, High Kinsman of Ipils Caltren and head of the Pine Barons of the Eternal Forest or that you are Oaran Lere the Water Bearer and the only human to have ever seen the Black Towers of Castle E’drosh and lived.

How did you know? said Oaran.

My suspicions were confirmed by the midwife.

She startles me forcing the unsheathing of my blade. Then you portray yourself as this rude and crude caravan leader with the ‘work for provisions’ story. You have done nothing but deceive us! said Sicajes.

Not anymore than you and your husband intended to do to me.

They all stood silent for a moment. T’liquii extends his hand. Oaran reaches out slowly and they give each other a reassuring handshake. He looks over at Sicajes as he releases Oaran’s hand, drops his hood back and bows his head slightly.

Your secret is safe with me and my caravan. Moving in closer, I thought the women’s wagon would be the best place to hide the daughter of Lord Elogan. Something caught T’liquii’s attention and he paused for a moment to investigate with his hearing. You have much, pausing once more, to learn my young friends. He finally turns to see about the disruption he heard. Leaning to get a better view, he continues, I have sent word to your father of your passage with my caravan, leaning into a walk he heads towards the disruption adding loudly, and as your benefactor I expect you to respect my wishes.

I will do as you say only because my husband has given his word, Sicajes promised reluctantly.

Good, shouted T’liquii as he picked up his pace on the way to the disturbance. Now get busy we have much to do and I want to be on route before nightfall.

Oaran and Sicajes worked along side the other men and women. There were wagons to finish loading with provisions. Shopkeepers and the traders carted in last minute wares that also needed loading. T’liquii tended to some personal last minute details. There were always messages or small packages to be delivered for an extra price. The caravan broke camp just before nightfall and began its journey across the Great Expanse.

CHAPTER II

The journey had been uneventful. Camping during the day and traveling at night the caravan avoided the searing desert sun. Several months into their journey the caravan came to rest in one of the smaller depressions found throughout the southern desert region. These depressions or sinkholes can range in size from a few hundred yards to several miles wide. The limestone that once lay beneath the surface of an inland sea rose during a great upheaval. The mountains formed divided the sea and the trapped waters drained down through thousands of fissures left behind. The remaining seabed turned to desert. The sea in an effort to reclaim what it had lost, pounded at the mountains for eons. The erosion of the loose limestone beneath the mountains opened up sea caves that stretched inland for miles. Caverns formed beneath the desert surface and the sands slowly began to work their way down through tiny cracks. Where the roofs of these caverns became too weak, the cavern would collapse leaving a depression. The sea once more is blocked and the remaining space over time slowly fills with sands. Anything or anyone caught by the shifting sand is pulled under and buried alive.

Carved from the limestone walls of the most notable sinkhole is the desert city of Sescla Kur. It is the only known location in the southern region to have access to fresh water. The collapsed limestone acting as a natural aquifer removes the salt from ocean water seeping through from the underground caverns. Over time, pools of fresh water have accumulated along the base of the stone wall. These pools of fresh water have been the cause of many Clan wars.

From every corner of the desert and beyond, they come to the oasis. During the very early history of Sescla Kur, many lives were lost fighting over the possession of the wells. Many factions developed over time forming and dissolving alliances. Brother pitted against brother. To this day, the fighting continues. Hundreds of years have passed and still there is no peace in the desert.

The untimely birth of Dxaan caused them to delay their arrival at the city of Sescla Kur. If there was a perceivable omen to his future, it would have been his coming into the world.

Out Water Bearer! yelled the midwife, This is women’s work!

Go my love, whispered Sicajes.

Oaran focused on the pain found in his beloved’s eyes. The midwife turned, reached out and placed her hand on his arm. He ignored her movements.

All will be done, said the midwife in a reassuring tone squeezing his arm gently, as I have told you!

Sicajes cringed as she tried to hold back from Oaran seeing the pain in her face.

Oaran…please! Do as the midwife asks. She felt herself falling into unconsciousness. The pain was too much for her to bear.

We must get under way! declared T’liquii from just outside the tent.

A moving wagon is no place to birth a child! The midwife shouted back.

T’liquii walked towards the tent flap and pulled it open. We must not waste anymore time, he said without looking back then lowering his head, There is danger in delay.

She is much too weak, implored the midwife as she turned back to Sicajes. The desert heat has tried to rob the life of the child. If we move her we could lose both of them.

T’liquii not pleased stepped out of the tent throwing the flap shut.

Sescla Kur is two days away and scouts have found the remnants of a bandit’s camp just a short distance to the north, he thought angrily looking out towards the northern horizon. As if searching for an answer he panned across the sky towards the west. The sky seems more as that of winter and, now this woman is to give birth. I do not like these signs, he whispered.

What signs? asked Oaran stepping out of the tent.

Just thinking of the ramblings of an old woman.

The caravan remained camped amidst a small outcropping of rock. The watch was set and for a moment, all remained quiet.

T’liquii paced about the camp. His nervousness echoed in the faces of his workers.

There can not be anymore unexpected delays, murmured T’liquii as he walked passed two of the men crouched about a campfire. They waved and he half-heartedly returned the wave. Everyone knew of the danger found in open desert. Wrestling with his responsibility as caravan leader, he thought of the midwife’s words and of how he has come to trust them.

He entered the midwife’s tent to see Oaran standing just inside the entrance. Standing beside him they watched for a moment as the midwife prepared for the birthing.

Your woman is not accustomed to the desert sun, remarked the midwife whilst opening a satchel filled with small leather envelopes and a few stone vials. She has lost much weight during the crossing. She will need the potion.

Come let us leave the women to their work, said T’liquii as his eyes widened at the midwife’s remarks. The midwife will tend to her needs well enough. He gave Oaran a reassuring grasp on the shoulder as they left the tent.

T’liquii hoped not to explain the potions’ possible effects. Used in cases of extreme pain it is known to dull the senses but it also can free the mind of restraint. Some have given accounts of many connecting with ethereal planes, being visited by ancestors and communicating with nature. Then there are the others that regain consciousness only to go insane. If all went well there would not be any reason to worry him. T’liquii lost in his own thoughts did not hear Oaran as he approached.

I do not like being out in the open, he thought aloud.

I understand and thank you. My wife will need much rest if she is to manage the rest of the journey. Oaran glanced back at the entrance to the tent. What have I done my beloved?

T’liquii placed his hand on Oaran’s shoulder, We rest tonight. Tomorrow we search for a safer haven. Looking west out over the desert, Sescla Kur is still a number of days away and there are always bandits scouting the sands surrounding the city.

Bandits attack your caravan? Oaran questioned, But you are many.

They attack any of the smaller caravans. T’liquii looked back at the midwife’s tent then further responding, We are just twenty or so escorting a few merchants and traders with their wares to market. We have been fortunate in the past. They believe the whole caravan to be desert people. Why would they attack? He thought then added, It helps to keep costs down."

So when you say twenty or so, does that include the old woman?

T’liquii glanced back and grinned. The midwife? pausing in thought, She is old, but she can be quite formidable when she needs to be. He nodded several times in agreement with his words as both men turned together and looked back at the midwife’s tent.

Sicajes, I believe has taken a liking to her.

As has the midwife of her, responded T’liquii patting Oaran on the shoulder.

They grinned together and found themselves in quiet reflection as they prayed for the coming hours.

Inside the tent, Sicajes wrestled with the task of giving birth. The loss of weight compounded by the rough ride presented a problem.

The child is in breach! exclaimed the midwife as she examined Sicajes. I must take the child or you will both most assuredly die.

No! screamed Sicajes, I will not let you.

Oaran turned and entered the tent. What are you doing? he shouted.

Help me! She wants to take my baby? pleaded Sicajes.

The midwife stood holding a dagger over Sicajes. I must open the womb! she shouted back without turning. Take child from womb. If not mother will die.

From behind Oaran hears the rustling of tent canvas. He turns as T’liquii runs in gasping for air urging him to step outside.

What do you want? Oaran asked. Then he realizes by the look in his T’liquii’s face that something is terribly wrong. He looks at Sicajes and back at T’liquii. But…my wife? You not see that...

T’liquii leaned in and grabbed Oaran by the shoulders. Bandits! He uttered quietly not wanting to alarm Sicajes. The midwife as did the rest of the caravaneers knew the possible dangers of a crossing.

Oaran turns towards the midwife. Be sure of what you do! pauses for a moment then looks deeply into Sicajes’ eyes.

Do not worry. T’liquii whispered. The midwife has brought many healthy children into this world. He gave Oaran a nudge. Come, we must prepare. It is nearly dark and they mostly attack at night. I am sure they will come from the west when the sun is low and in our eyes.

Oaran knelt beside Sicajes and kissed her gently on the forehead. Stepping back he whispers, I love you. She returned his endearment with a generous smile. The men left the tent and began fortifying the camp. Preoccupied with the birthing, Oaran remained in silent thought as he helped with the preparations. T’liquii knew his mind was on his wife and child. Silently, Oaran blamed himself for the situation that now threatened his beloved and their unborn child. How could he have allowed Sicajes to travel with child, especially through the desert? He would summon all of his faith and strength for what was to come. His beloved’s life was in the hands of the midwife. Sicajes could defend herself against any foe, but for this, there was no recourse. A new life would begin tonight.

Sicajes looked about the tent. Her attention focused on every sound coming from the hushed preparations.

Not to worry all will be fine. The midwife held a small vial. Drink this it will help with the pain.

Sicajes looked the vial over for a moment. What would you have me drink?

Do not be troubled I have given it to many others.

Sicajes drank the potion. The midwife took the vial from Sicajes’ hand as she picked up the birthing bow from the foot of the bedding.

Thread it through the noose above you and hold onto each end of the bow. If you find the need to scream, squeeze the ends together. Your husband has enough on his mind. Your screams would be an unwelcome distraction.

Sicajes grabbed hold of the bow and readied herself for the blade. Her thoughts were on Oaran and the danger that loomed outside the midwife’s tent. Where have we come to my husband? She watched the midwife prepare as further thoughts entered her mind. Our child’s life begins in the desolation of desert amidst the chaos of battle. Pausing for a moment, she cringes from the pain. I so do miss the forest, she whispers then thinking, Mother please keep watch over us.

Sicajes felt the coarse palm of the aging midwife as she rubbed oils over the area from where she would extract the child. She felt an eerie strangeness and hoped it was the potion.

I pray our child does not fall into the hands of these wretched sand fleas that seek out our doom?

The midwife responded. All will be right, as she reached for the birthing knife.

Oaran also felt a restlessness within. He looked back at the tent, lowered his head, and unknowingly joined Sicajes in prayer. My love. My life. My soul. Always will I be at your side. He looked up and about the camp. May we all be protected and granted victory this day.

Maybe it was the thought of becoming a father. He had no siblings. No way of comparing this moment to one of his father’s.

T’liquii looked at Oaran. He knew Oaran would not have his mind on the battle.

"Tonight we fight two battles. May the strength of the Twelve Stones be on