The Valley of Death: Arken Freeth and the Adventure of the Neanderthals, #5

By Alex Paul

An award-winning YA Fantasy series!

Rescued from pirates by Neanderthals, Arken Freeth has adapted to their life in the wilderness because he is part Neanderthal himself. Arken becomes a bull of the tribe after killing a toth with his bow and uses his position as a leader of the Neanderthals to help them defend their Water Cave when pirates attack.

Arken yearns for a reunion with his family and hopes that Talya's parents will allow them to pledge to marry when they reach legal age. He and his friend Asher also hope that Asher's father, the King of Tolaria, will bless the arrangement Arken and Asher have made to share the use of the Necklace of Tol with the Water Cave tribe. Arken believes that by doing this, the Amarrat invaders can ultimately be defeated. But Arken's triumphant return home to Lanth is ruined when he sees his Neanderthal blood brother Ord being sold as a slave as Arken sails into port.

Arken's nemesis, Gart, buys Ord, and then plots with the King of Lanth to hold Ord hostage to force the Neanderthals to give up the Necklace of Tol—something they will never do. Arken must find a way to free his best friend from slavery and save the Lantish people from the invasion of the Amarrats. Yet Gart's family opposes him at every turn and is willing to commit murder to achieve their goals. Arken finds that the only way to save his city is for Arken and his friends to escape the city and cross the treacherous Valley of Death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Paul
• Release date: Jan 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386511564

Book preview

CHAPTER 2:

GART’S SLAVE PURCHASE

Gart’s hand began moving toward his sword.

Asher laughed. Gart, you can’t cancel the sale because you’re forgetting one thing.

What? Gart asked, and his hand froze.

I am the Prince of Tolaria, Asher said in a louder voice. And Arken is buying Ord on my behalf.

Sire, forgive me. Trull dropped to one knee despite his obvious dizziness and bowed to Asher. I’m aware of your family’s presence in Lanth. I had no idea who you were.

Kneel, you fools! the ship’s agent up on the deck shouted to several of his crewmen who had gathered around to watch the argument. This prince could have us put to death for our lack of respect. He dropped to one knee.

The ship’s agent looked up when he realized that Ord had not bowed, so he yanked on Ord’s wrist chain. Kneel, Nander.

He actually doesn’t have to, Asher explained. He’s a prince of the Nanders, my equal, and he saved my life.

Yes, sir, the ship’s agent looked up at Ord with new respect.

He turned his eyes downward once again.

Sire, the Nander is yours, Trull said as he remained kneeling on the dock. I had no idea who you were. He reached over and picked up the bag of gold that Gart had knocked out of Talya’s hand. There, we’ve been paid. The matter is settled.

You traitor! Gart shouted at Trull who was still on his knees.

Master Gart, you really should kneel in his presence as well, Trull cautioned. Even though you’re a royal, this is a prince. He outranks you.

I won’t kneel to Asher because I won’t kneel to Tolarian royalty, Gart said, his voice laced with contempt. His princely status means nothing here. His parents live at the mercy of King Lor and his parents’ concerns will mean nothing after I present this Nander as a gift to our king.

Gift? Asher asked. He exchanged a worried glance with Arken and Talya as though they could somehow explain Gart’s meaning.

Yes, Gart sneered. I plan on giving Ord to King Lor. With Ord as a hostage, it will guarantee that Mar will cooperate with us and share the necklace.

A chill ran through Arken. This was what he had feared, that King Lor would keep Ord as a slave hostage to guarantee Mar would keep his promise. Arken knew that Mar could be trusted, but convincing King Lor and his suspicious courtiers of Mar’s reliability might be impossible.

You stole my idea! Asher said. I was buying him for the same reason. Asher’s eyes narrowed in anger. You wouldn’t stand in my way, would you, Gart? We are both acting for the good of Lanth.

Arken was astonished. Was Asher telling the truth? Surely, he didn’t mean it.

All of you can rise, Asher said to all who were on their knees before him. Gart is obviously not going to show his respect for me.

Asher, you know I will never kneel to you, nor will I give up the Nander slave. Perhaps we should resolve the ownership of Ord by settling our dispute with a duel.

Master Gart, you can’t . . . Trull began as he slowly rose to his feet.

Quiet you fool or I’ll cuff you on the head again, Gart said in a savage voice.

Fear surged through Arken. Asher had made a mistake by inserting himself into the dispute between Arken and Gart. Asher had placed himself in danger. If he didn’t accept Gart’s challenge to a duel, he would have to give up his claim on Ord. But if Asher fought Gart, Asher would die. There was no question about that.

I don’t participate in duels. Asher smiled as charmingly as Gart had. You will need to duel with my agent, Arken, if he accepts your invitation.

Have you no honor in your country of Tolaria? Gart asked. In Lanth, a man must fight his own duels.

Don’t insult the prince, Arken said as he eagerly stepped in front of Asher. The move startled Gart, and he reared back quickly, nearly bumping Trull off the dock. Trull yelled in surprise and barely saved himself a dunking.

I challenged Asher, not you, Gart replied.

But Master Gart, you can’t challenge a prince. Trull had stepped a safe distance behind Gart to avoid another punch before speaking again.

What are you saying now? Gart looked puzzled as he turned to ask Trull.

Lantish law forbids dueling with any heir to a throne. Withdraw your challenge, or King Lor will have to put you to death.

I have no knowledge of such a law, Gart stammered. His face turned an even darker shade of red.

That is the law, Trull assured him.

Asher, my apologies for challenging you, Gart said with a sly smile. However, you offered the perfect solution. I will duel with Arken.

Gladly, Arken said. If I win, the Nander slave is Asher’s. If you win, then he is your property.

A crowd of at least twenty sailors from the taverns above the harbor had gathered to watch the commotion, along with at least the same number who had come down to the dock to watch. The crowd on the dock tripped over themselves trying to back up and get out of harm’s way as it became obvious that Arken and Gart were going to fight.

If you are going to duel, the one challenged must pick time, place, and weapons, a bystander yelled.

The crowd backed even further away from Arken and Gart. The dock would be a narrow and treacherous place for a fight.

Then it’s swords and knives, here and now, Arken roared as he drew his short sword and long knife. He felt a rage come over him that had never felt so powerful. All the years of Gart’s bullying, teasing, and abuse flooded his brain with the desire to end Gart’s life.

Part of his mind reminded him that he had to stay in control of his emotions if he was to win, while another part just wanted to crush Gart. Arken was sure he could win. He’d beaten Gart with skill before and had grown so quickly that Gart no longer loomed over him. Of course, Arken still looked up at Gart, but he was no longer a head taller.

Gart moved back several steps and drew his sword and knife. His face had drained of color, and fear had replaced his cockiness. But it was too late to go back now, and Gart looked as if he realized he had done a very stupid thing in provoking this fight. Arken held his sword pointing forward, with his knife ready in his left hand. He swung his sword back and shouted as he swung a downward cut at Gart’s head.

Gart jerked backward and swung his sword up and across Arken’s downward blow. Stepping back was a mistake because it gave Gart no power in his extended sword arm. The swords collided with a terrible crash, and Gart corrected his form just in time, stepping into and under Arken’s sword arm. As he blocked the blow, Gart thrust his knife point at Arken’s chest, but Arken had anticipated the move and stepped back so quickly that Gart only stabbed at air.

The crowd on the dock moved as one, knowing they were still standing too close. Their movement forced one man off the dock and a frenzy of shouts went up as they rescued the man from the water.

Arken lowered his sword in a forward point and advanced for his next attack.

Gart, wait. Stop! Narval yelled as he and Han came running up. They pushed their way through the crowd, while Gart and Arken stepped back from each other and lowered their swords.

Stay out of this, you two, Gart shouted without taking his eyes off Arken. I’m sick of never fighting Arken. Now is the time for one of us to die.

Narval turned to Han. I told you Gart was going to duel with Arken!

And I bet Gart will die, Han replied. One gold piece?

Done, Narval agreed.

Han, you’re betting against me? Gart laughed, but Arken could hear the dismay in his tone.

Yes, Han said. I’m sorry, but I need the money, Gart.

I thought we were friends, Gart lamented with a glance at Han.

Gart, I’m a loyal friend, Narval assured him. I’m betting on you, but honestly, I’ll probably lose to Han. You’re crazy fighting Arken. He’s much taller and stronger than when he beat you sparring on his birthday.

That win was just luck. He’s no match for me, Gart replied in a haughty tone.

You’re wrong, Narval said. You’re going to die the very day you get home because you got in a stupid fight over a Nander slave. Just let Arken buy the Nander.

And don’t forget that Arken’s quicker than you, Han added as Gart thought it over. You’ll never see your death blow coming.

But if I win, I can give Ord to King Lor and return our family to favor, Gart whined. If that happens I’m sure that the king will restore to us the fortune that Arken’s father stole from our family all those years ago.

That fortune won’t seem important as you are dying and your sword slips from your hand, Asher said. But maybe your death is the only way to end your family’s hatred.

Gart didn’t answer. He simply tightened his grip on his sword.

Come on, Gart. You challenged me. Let’s fight. Arken returned to the crouch of his ready stance. I will finally be rid of Gart forever, thought Arken. And no one will blame me because Gart challenged me to this fight. He waited for Gart to make the next move.

The Academy to the south loomed on its hill over the harbor and was visible beyond Gart’s right shoulder. Below the Academy lay the harbor entrance and the massive statue of King Lor straddling the seawalls. From Arken’s viewpoint, the statue seemed to loom over Gart like some giant referee attending their match.

Time seemed to slow for Arken, and he noticed small details of life around him. The first puff of the midday onshore breeze pushed its way across the harbor and the hundreds of ships readying for war. The wind slapped lines against masts while the clatter of loose bronze clasps tapping decks and docks sounded like a collection of old but faint wind chimes. Then he saw Talya standing at the front of the crowd with a sad, worried look on her face. The gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes, making her blink.

Gart screamed as he lunged forward, his sword pointed at Arken’s stomach.

CHAPTER 3

THE LAST ANCHORAGE

The Reaper lay at anchor, of that Yolanta was sure as he came awake. But he was confused by the bright sun gleaming around the edge of the slatted wooden shutters that covered his cabin windows. If it was daytime, they should be underway, not anchored up.

He shivered. The cabin felt cold, as if it were nighttime during the middle of rinfall. Where is my blasted cabin boy? Yolanta wondered as he drew the banskin hide tight around him. The movement caused a stabbing pain from the wound in his side.

The soft and warm banskin hide draped over him had been treated to protect its thick, black hair. Other animal hides, like the gastag, never tanned as soft. They were always bristly and sharp to the touch. But the huge, two-horned ban, which was their main source of meat, provided a soft and very warm blanket. He was so glad he’d made sure they had brought an ample supply of the hides for the full crew because beneath him, he had only the thin woven fabric of the hammock and it was soaked by his sweat and was freezing cold.

Brumbal? Anyone? Yolanta tried to shout, but it was a faint excuse for his normally powerful voice.

Sir, what can I do? Brumbal asked as he opened the door and stepped into Yolanta’s cabin.

What are you doing, just waiting outside my room? Yolanta asked.

Brumbal had a smile on his face. Yes, sir.

Why are you smiling? Yolanta asked. Are you laughing at me?

Not laughing, sir. Just happy you’re alive.

Are we anchored in daylight? Yolanta asked.

Yes, sir, I thought it best to let you rest, Brumbal replied. You’ve been so ill. You’ve had an awful fever for days."

Crun can let me rest when I have no life in my body, Yolanta barked. We need to be underway and sailing for home.

Yes, sir. I’ll get the ships moving right away. Brumbal turned to go, and then stopped at the door. It’s nice to have you back with us, sir, and I’m glad that you’ve recovered enough to speak to me.

Brumbal, I’m glad you’re happy, but we’re in a rush to get to Forla, Yolanta said in a grumpy voice. And I’m freezing. Can you have someone fetch another hide like this one?

Yes, sir. Brumbal looked back at him. It is so good to see you with enough energy to be angry, sir! It means you’re going to live.

You’re lucky to be so big, otherwise I would beat you up this minute for laughing at me.

I’m sure you could, Brumbal said as he left the room. Brumbal was the only man on the ship larger than Yolanta, and even then, he was only a little taller and a little more heavily muscled. They looked similar, and their men wondered aloud sometimes if the two men were unwitting half-brothers. They referred to Brumbal as a bear of a man, while Yolanta, who was slightly quicker and a better fighter, was compared most often to a jalag, the deadly black cat that ruled the nights of the jungle.

The cook soon entered the cabin. You need another banskin blanket, sir?

Yes. I’m so cold. Please hurry.

Right away, sir. The cook turned to go.

Wait! Before you go, how long have I been ill?

Ever since we pulled you from the River Zash.

No, I mean, sleeping and having fevers like this.

For almost a moonth, sir. You’ve been delirious and screaming while you were with fever, the cook said. We’re keeping track of your progress on this bark, recording each day’s events with burnt wood.

A moonth? Yolanta was amazed. How far are we from Forla?

Only a few days sail, sir, the cook said. The cook’s tunic was covered with grease and his mouth was missing so many teeth that Yolanta wondered if he could even sample the food he prepared.

I can’t remember anything from the last moonth! Yolanta was astounded that he had been ill for an entire cycle of full moon to full moon. There were only thirteen moonths in an entire yar! He felt weak, helpless, and scared. In fact, the last thing I remember is feeling ill for several days after we left the River Zash. Yolanta shook his head and then shivered violently. Fetch the hide, blast you! I’m cold. Don’t stand there watching me die.

Yes, sir. The cook scooted out of the cabin. He returned quickly and stood with the hide in his arms.

I want it under me. Can you slide it under if I hold myself up? Yolanta asked.

I can try.

Yolanta grabbed the sides of his hammock and lifted himself enough for the cook to slide the hide beneath him.

Ah, so much better, Yolanta said as he lay back down. Now I need to drink water.

Here, sir. Brumbal held a boda at an angle for Yolanta.

Yes. Yolanta drank eagerly. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. "Stay with me, Brumbal. I fear the reaper might visit our ship, The Reaper, and take me away."

I doubt it, sir. You’re alert enough to refer to our ship’s name as you describe your fate, Brumbal said with enthusiasm in his voice. In fact, that’s the first good sign I’ve seen since you fell ill.

Let’s hope you’re right, Yolanta said. He drifted off as the others left Brumbal to watch over him. But stay anyway.

Yes, sir.

And tell me, how long has it been since I was stabbed on the River Zash?

Thirty-two days, Brumbal said.

I don’t remember much after being dragged from the river, Yolanta said. How is the wound?

Not deep, but after we burned it to make it heal, the wound turned red and weeped, and then you got this fever.

Do I have green rot? Yolanta asked. That horrible smell and a slow, agonizing death were not things he wanted to suffer through. He had seen too many other men succumb to rot.

Not yet, Brumbal said. A good sign. I think you’ll start to heal now, sir.

Yes, Yolanta mumbled as sleep took him.

* * *

Yolanta woke and looked around. Brumbal was asleep on the floor, lying on top of a banskin hide. A candle lit the room, and as he looked about, he felt small, as if he had somehow shrunk in size and everything around him had at least doubled in size. This had happened to him as a child several times. His mother had said it was from having the fever. It hadn’t happened since he was a child, though, and it made him wonder if he was dying.

I don’t care if I die, Yolanta thought. And he meant it. He was suffering so badly that death seemed preferable to going on with life. But then he thought of his wives and children and realized he couldn’t leave them at the mercy of the King of the Amarrats.

And with that thought, the face of the Amarrat King loomed before him. The gigantic face seemed larger than the things in his room. He wondered how he was so sure it was even the Amarrat King since he had never met the man before. But the evil that emanated from this vision of his face convinced Yolanta that this must be the king who had forced him to risk his life and the life of his men. Of course they had agreed to go because the Amarrat King had offered them a sum of gold so vast they he could not refuse. He’d hesitated, but the King’s threat to destroy his people if Yolanta didn’t agree to go had made it impossible for Yolanta to say no.

Yolanta no longer cared about the gold. He had failed to retrieve the necklace, and now he just wanted to save his people. To do that, he had to confront the King and convince him to give Yolanta another chance. He couldn’t die without trying to save his people. He resolved that once he recovered, he would journey to the Amarrat king and seek the money and supplies necessary for another attempt at retrieving the necklace. I just have to get the necklace this time, thought Yolanta. And that won’t be easy.

CHAPTER 4

SWORDPLAY

Arken brought his sword down on Gart’s advancing blade, which forced the point toward the dock. Gart reached out with his long knife in his left hand and the blade slashed across Arken’s right shoulder, cutting through Arken’s tunic sleeve and slicing into his arm.

Arken twisted away from the pain and countered by swinging the long knife in his left hand in a downward arc at Gart’s sword arm. As Arken swung, he realized that he was holding the knife in the wrong direction. The blade was pointing forward for stabbing, but he needed it pointing down as he swung for Gart’s exposed right forearm.

The butt of Arken’s knife handle ended in a sharp point, so Arken swung down as hard as he could toward Gart’s right hand. The metal point was better than nothing, and he knew he was right when the point bit into bone.

Gart screamed, the sound shocking Arken. Yet Gart managed to keep a grip on his sword with his right hand as he jumped back to defend himself. Arken held both his blades at the ready and circled just outside Gart’s thrusting distance, looking for an opening. Arken’s right shoulder throbbed with pain.

You’ve got him now, Arken, Asher shouted.

Be careful, though. Don’t be over-confident, Talya cautioned.

No, that would be a mistake. As you can see I’m fine. Gart swung his sword back and forth with his right arm to show that his hand was strong enough to continue the fight. Now I will kill you, Gart shouted.

Suddenly, the thunder of harse’s hooves announced the approach of four King’s Harsemen as they raced down the stone roadway running above the harbor. A crowd had gathered up on the road to watch the swordfight, but now people jumped back, barely getting out of the way as the harsemen reined in and ran down the closest ramp to the dock. A guard’s captain led them, shouting, Order! Order in the name of King Lor.

The harsemen drew swords as they ran toward the fighters who now stood motionless, facing each other. Sheathe your weapons or you’re under arrest, the guard’s captain ordered.

Sir. Arken stepped back several paces from Gart and then held the point of his sword just above the sheath, showing that he would comply, but not until Gart did the same.

The captain glared at Gart. You too.

Yes, sir, Gart said with a tone of resignation in his voice as he sheathed his sword, and then his knife when Arken did so as well. Gart winced noticeably as he used his right hand.

Now, why are you two dueling in public in the middle of a city dock? the captain asked.

Cousin Markel, is that you? Gart squinted as he looked at the captain.

Gart? Markel sheathed his sword.

Yes! Gart suddenly looked very happy.

You’re alive? The harse captain embraced Gart. We all thought you were lost at sea.

Me and a few others survived the loss of our ship thanks to my leadership as Salcon, Gart bragged.

Excellent, we must talk soon so you can tell me what happened.

You can’t trust him, Arken interrupted. Listen to the Prince of Tolaria who survived as well and saw everything.

The Prince of Tolaria? the captain snarled at Arken. And I suppose he is here?

Standing behind you. Arken grinned.

Truly? the captain asked as he turned and looked down at Asher.

Truly, Asher replied.

Your Highness. The captain bent his knee and his men did as well. Then he rose and turned to Asher. Can you tell me what is going on?

Cousin, I need to speak with you in private, Gart said.

Certainly, the captain said and walked with Gart down the dock beyond the crowd.

What do you think Gart is saying? Talya came over to Arken. Wait, you’re wounded! Arken she exclaimed. I didn’t realize it was so deep.

Arken looked down. The right shoulder of his tunic was stained with blood. The cut had not been too painful, but now he could tell that it was going to hurt a lot now that the excitement of the fight was over.

I don’t like this development. Asher came over to stand by Arken as well.

Who knows what lies he is telling. Arken nodded his agreement.

Well, I’ll begin by taking your statement. The captain walked over to Arken.

Don’t you want to speak with the prince first? Arken asked.

In due course, the captain snarled at Arken. I think you should speak first, and then get your wound attended to.

Arken, my son! They told me you were alive! Arken’s father’s voice carried over the dock like the pounding of a rower’s drum at fast pace. Arken turned to see Nortak pushing his way through the crowd.

Father! Arken said, emotion overcoming him. He couldn’t believe he was finally home.

You must come with me now. It’s urgent, Nortak said, worry tinging his voice. Then he noticed Arken’s bloody tunic. You’re wounded!

I’m fine, Arken assured his father.

Sir, this boy can’t leave yet, the captain said to Nortak. He was participating in a duel. Give me one moment. He may be subject to arrest.

No. That’s not possible! We have an emergency at home. Nortak’s face clouded with anger, and he stepped toward the young captain. Nortak’s neck veins bulged. Nortak was half-Nander with the frame and look of a human, but his muscles were all Nander. They rippled with power and his shoulders were so massive they looked like heavy, round catapult stones. Even though Nortak was swordless, the well-armed captain took a step back, his eyes wide.

What is the emergency? the captain stammered.

Nortak shook his head in dismay. His grandfather is dying.

I must go home, Arken said, his heart sinking in sadness as he turned to the captain. I survived all that has happened. I assumed I could tell grandfather. I have so many questions for him. I never thought of him dying.

To leave now, you must withdraw your acceptance of Gart’s challenge to a duel, the captain stated.

What? Arken felt confused. He looked at Asher, who answered the captain.

Gart challenged me, and Arken is simply fighting in my stead as I am not allowed to duel, Asher answered. So, no, you fool, we are not conceding the fight.

I understand that this duel is being fought over a slave’s ownership, the captain explained. The duel must be concluded now, either by one side or the other yielding or continuing the fight.

But his grandfather is dying, Nortak objected.

A duel cannot be halted. The captain shook his head. That is the law.

Can you resolve the dispute quickly by taking statements? Asher asked. I will accept your decision so that my friend can attend his grandfather.

No! Arken protested, but it was too late.

I can resolve it, but it will take a long time to take statements.

Time we don’t have, Nortak added.

Do you want me to rush my decision in order to let your friend attend to his ailing relative?

Yes, unfortunately, Asher replied.

The captain asked Gart a few more questions in a whisper before making a decision.

I have decided to rule in Gart’s favor. His agent bought the Nander first, but then he sold him without seeking Gart’s permission. So the sale to the prince is not valid. I rule that the Nander belongs to Gart.

But his slave buyer does not need his master’s permission to buy and sell slaves! Asher protested. His agent even agreed with us that his sale to me was valid.

Is that true? the captain turned and asked Trull.

Yes, sir. I am authorized to buy and sell slaves on behalf of my master without consulting him.

No, you’re not, Gart interrupted.

But I am, Trull protested.

Prove it! Gart said. You have no written document authorizing you to sell without permission.

Is that true? the captain turned to Trull.

Yes, but no agent has a written agreement, we just trade on our work and an arm shake.

If you can’t prove that you have authority to trade as you say, then I am still ruling in Gart’s favor. You mustn’t overstep your authority as a slave trader, the captain scolded Trull.

That’s ridiculous, Asher argued. Everyone knows that slave traders operate with their master’s prior permission.

Sire, the captain replied. If you disagree with me, I can set up formal testimony right now on this ship.

It was drawing close to midmeal and the sun was bearing down on all of them, sapping the energy from the crowd as some people headed back to the refreshments and shade of the tavern now that they knew no one was going to entertain them with a fight to the death.

If that is what it takes to get justice, by all means, Asher replied.

Gathering evidence and making a considered decision may well take hours, the captain cautioned. If you have the time . . .

We have no time, Nortak nearly shouted. If Arken doesn’t come home, he will never see his grandfather alive again.

Then let us finish this fight now, Arken said. He stepped forward and reached for his sword, but the pain in his right shoulder was intense and he winced.

You can’t fight now. Talya grabbed at Arken’s forearm. You’re wounded.

She’s right, the captain said as he looked at Arken. It would not be a fair fight. I can’t allow it to go forward.

We must hurry, Nortak cautioned. Surely if your case is just, a petition for reversal will be honored.

No, father, Gart will lie, Arken said, a feeling of despair coming over him.

You can’t fight and your friend can’t select a new champion, the captain explained.

Can’t the fight be postponed by your orders? Nortak asked. After all, you stopped the fight when it seems that it was close to ending. Either Gart or my son would be dead if you hadn’t interfered.

Yes, it can, and you are wise to suggest this. I hereby order this fight postponed, and the rules are that Arken must challenge Gart, since the prince, the person he is fighting for, is suffering the loss with my decision and must petition the court to reverse it.

There, that’s settled. You can come home to your grandfather. Nortak took hold of Arken’s elbow to lead him away.

But if they take possession of Ord now, they will mistreat him, Arken protested.

No, we won’t, Gart promised. I plan on selling him soon. I will keep him plump and happy.

There you have it, the captain said to Asher. They won’t mistreat him. Perhaps you can buy the slave when Gart sells him!

He’s lying and you know it, Arken said in a bitter voice.

Do you pledge on your honor as an officer in the King’s Sea Service to keep this Nander slave safe from harm? The captain turned to Gart.

Arken’s heart sank. He knew how easily Gart could lie.

Of course, Gart assured the captain.

There. The captain turned to Arken. I can do no more. Stay and testify or leave now.

I’m sorry, Ord. I have to go. Arken’s heart broke as he looked up at Ord. He was still standing in chains on the ship’s deck. My grandfather is dying.

Ord understand. The Nander looked down. Arken last time see grandfather.

But Asher and I will have you freed soon, Arken promised. We will get a hearing with King Lor himself.

For now we must go, Arken. Nortak pulled at his arm. We’ve not a minute to spare.

Wait. Arken pulled away and turned to Asher and Talya. He had imagined his homecoming as a joyous occasion, with his family meeting Asher and Talya. He had hoped they would understand how perfectly matched he and Talya were and how proud they would be of him for befriending a prince. He had also daydreamed about meeting the king and queen of Tolaria and, of course, Talya’s parents.

Now all those dreams were shattered.

He quickly introduced everyone before they left. Father, these are my friends, Talya and Asher, Arken said. Then he gestured toward his father, My father, Nortak.

Arken, I’m so sorry about your grandfather. Talya stepped forward and grabbed Arken’s hands. She leaned forward and whispered, I love you. We will be together again soon. Then she kissed him quickly on the cheek and gave Asher a chance to say farewell.

This is not the victorious return I imagined, Asher said, shaking his head as he looked up at Arken with a sad look on his face.

Nor I. Arken frowned.

When Father arrives, I will tell him what has happened. We will plead in the King’s Court as soon as the King allows. We’ll have Ord freed, Asher promised.

Oh, thank you, Asher, Arken said. I know I can count on you.

We will send a messenger with word of our progress, Asher said.

Thank you, blood brother. Arken grabbed Asher’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. Then he turned and jogged up the ramp behind Nortak while holding the cut on his right shoulder and they jumped into the cart.

If you hurry back to my home, I’ll have an extra coin for you, Nortak said to the driver. The man immediately cracked the whip over his two black harses, turning the cart in a small circle, and then they were off, wheels clattering on the cobblestone road with wheel ruts cut into the stone.

Arken turned and looked back at Talya as the harses whinnied and ran. His eyes met hers, and they waved for a brief second before the cart rounded a corner and she disappeared from view.

CHAPTER 5

ARKEN’S HOMECOMING

What is wrong with grandfather? Arken asked as the cart clattered over rough cobblestone.

He developed a cough a moonth ago and gradually worsened, Nortak explained. He kept pushing himself working on his bows, but he collapsed at his worktable a week ago, and he’s been getting worse ever since.

I’m so sorry to hear it, Arken said. He felt sad at the idea of his grandfather’s loss. He had taken it for granted that if he survived and make it back to Lanth that he would be able to ask Balloom all the questions he had about making bows. Arken realized he had been foolish to think his grandfather would go on living for years and years.

All of us die, Nortak observed. It’s just that it often comes as a surprise, especially when you get settled into a comfortable life.

Arken said nothing. He knew more about death than his father realized thanks to Mar and Ord’s spirit rescue. But Arken didn’t mention what he knew since it differed from the official teachings of their religion.

Is there nothing the healers can do for him? Arken asked.

"No, they say it will be soon. He was doing poorly when I left him earlier today but when the bells rang for everyone to gather for an announcement, our neighbor ran back from the meeting square and said that some survivors of the Sea Nymph had returned."

Did they tell you I was one of them? Arken asked.

No, but I rushed out and hired this cart to hurry to the docks in the hope you were alive.

So Grandfather doesn’t know I survived?

No, but he did say he would hang on until I returned in the event you had, Nortak assured him. The cart hit a bump that bounced them up off the seat.

Don’t slow, Nortak told the driver. We’re fine.

Sir. The driver nodded and cracked his whip over the two harses’ backs.

Grandfather is as tough as the bows he makes, Arken said. I can’t wait to see him.

Be sure to change your tunic before you go upstairs, Nortak cautioned. No point alarming your mother.

I will, Father, Arken agreed.

He related the briefest details about his time on the ship, the shipwreck, life with the Nanders and the battle with the Tookans, which left his father with a hundred questions when Arken jumped out of the cart before it came to a stop.

Arken’s home! Nortak shouted when they saw no one downstairs.

Who is home? Zela shouted.

Arken! Nortak shouted. Screams of joy came from upstairs as Arken sprinted up the stairs two at a time. He dashed into his room and changed tunics, and then glanced around, happy to be home safe yet unable to enjoy the moment for fear his grandfather would die.

Where? Zela was now in the hall, facing Nortak as Arken came out of his room.

There, Nortak pointed.

Oh, Arken, my son. Tears streamed down her face as she took Arken in her arms.

Mother. As he hugged her, he was flooded with emotions and so glad to be back, yet a part of his brain was amazed that they were now the same height.

Brother! Em came out of the room through the beaded curtain and ran to his side.

Oh, Em, I’ve missed you so much. Arken knelt down and hugged her.

Me too. Em broke into tears.

How is Grandfather? Arken went into the room, leaving his mother and sister crying and hugging each other.

His grandfather’s room was dark with the curtains drawn against the bright daylight but the shutters left open to let in cool air.

Terrible coughing, Arlet said. She rose from a chair on the far side of the bed and hugged Arken, tears welling in her eyes as well. He sleeps now, which he needs.

Father said he is near death, Arken replied as Arlet’s Nander scent flooded him with memories of the Water Cave, snoring bull Nanders, and quiet rinmist falling through the roof opening onto the soft sand cave floor.

He can’t last much longer. Arlet looked down. He has always been so strong, but now he’s weak like a newborn. The coughing is so hard on him, and he’s burning with fever.

I lived with a Nander tribe all this time, Arken explained.

You did? Zela asked.

Where? Arlet added.

I will tell you more later, but my point is the healer of the tribe had a powder that was made from mushrooms. He used it on the Nanders when they had coughs and fevers.

Oh, I wish we had some, Arlet said.

That’s just it. We do, Arken explained. "On my ship, the Talya, moored in the harbor."

The ship is yours? Nortak asked.

Yes, I’ll explain everything. Arken felt annoyed. He was trying to save Grandfather’s life but his family kept diverting him with questions.

I need to have a message taken to Prince Asher. He could go to the ship and bring the medicine here, Arken went on.

The Prince I met just now? Nortak asked.

Arken knows a prince? Zela interrupted.

Mother, later. Arken frowned. We need to get a message to Asher immediately.

Tell me, Nortak said. I’ll go to the Royal Gate and have a message sent in. Do you think your friend will come out?

Oh, yes, Arken replied. We’re blood brothers.

What a time you’ve had. Nortak shook his head.

We can talk forever about it later, Arken replied. Then he related his message to Asher until his father had it memorized. His father took off for the Royal Gate directly aftward where there were always messengers waiting. These were slaves who were allowed into the Royal compound to do the bidding of their masters, which included keeping all commoners out of the compound.

Goodness, Arken, you’ve grown! Zela said after Nortak left.

You haven’t changed at all, Mother, Arken said as he took a chair by Balloom.

It was true. Zela hadn’t changed since he had seen her last, except now her long tunic was blue instead of the white she usually wore. Her long black hair was held back by a simple gold pin in the shape of a leaf, and her gold necklace matched the same leaf pattern.

You’re home! Zela said again in a soft voice as she sat on chair by the bed. I was so worried that the worst had happened and we would never see you again. Her voice trailed off and she began to cry.

I knew Arken would come home. Em came over and leaned into him. You’re smart, brother, and I never lost faith in you.

I’m afraid I did, Zela confessed. I’m ashamed of myself now.

I’m fine. I’m right here now. Arken had tried so hard to tell his mother he was all right when he had spirit flown and seen her. He felt disappointed that he’d been unable to communicate with her, so he hugged her now to assure her he had, indeed, survived.

She hugged his right shoulder, and he winced in pain. She drew her hand back and noticed that it was already sticky with blood that had soaked through the fabric.

Goodness, Arken, your shoulder is bleeding. What happened?

I’m fine, Mother. The wound is not deep. It just needs cleaning.

Fine thing that my grandson returns home from the war wounded. Balloom’s voice came weakly from behind Arken.

Grandfather! Arken said as he grabbed Balloom’s hand. His hand felt hot and dry.

You survived, Balloom said, his voice barely a wheeze. Arken’s heart wrenched in his chest as he looked at his grandfather. Balloom had always been lean and strong, but now he had lost his muscle and seemed little more than skin and bones. A gray stubble of beard covered his face and his cheeks were hollow. His eyes had receded in their sockets and had no sparkle to them like Em’s did.

Then a wracking cough shook Balloom’s body, a wet cough that sounded like Han when he had been pulled from the sea after his dragging. His grandfather sounded like he couldn’t get water out of his lungs.

I am so happy you survived, Balloom said as his coughing finally waned.

I did, praise Kal, Arken said. Though there were times I didn’t think I would.

They say I don’t have much time. You must tell me everything while I can still hear it. Balloom squeezed Arken’s hand but began coughing again, so Arken couldn’t talk.

Try to rest, Grandfather, Arken