Tabor's Savior

By White and Kevin G White

In this sequel to "The Prince of Tabor," the war for the continent of Curth Talem, initiated by the evil necromancer, Crepitus, continues. Young Nathaniel Aarmon, the orphaned heir to the throne of Tabor, continues his journey to regain his birthright and save his kingdom. With the help of his brother and closest friends who make up the Brotherh

• Language: English
• Publisher: William White
• Release date: Sep 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987092071

Book preview

Contents

Chapter 1

The Rescue

Chapter 2

The Search

Chapter 3

Tajman Sghur

Chapter 4

The Moor Elf

Chapter 5

Gush

Chapter 6

Brownie Healer

Chapter 7

Oblivion Alley

Chapter 8

Efemriz

Chapter 9

Michel

Chapter 10

Separated

Chapter 11

Sirens

Chapter 12

Bodies

Chapter 13

Loss

Chapter 14

Lani

Chapter 15

Horatio

Chapter 16

King Tawn

Chapter 17

Natasha

Chapter 18

Tyus

Chapter 19

Captured

Chapter 20

Lupine Attack

Chapter 21

The Mad King

Chapter 22

Seren

Chapter 23

Underground River

Chapter 24

Ashlek

Chapter 25

The Witch

Chapter 26

Skelm

Chapter 27

The Bandit Dungeon

Chapter 28

The Escape

Chapter 29

The Unexpected Encounter

Chapter 30

Infighting

Chapter 31

The Chase

Chapter 32

Erewhon

Endnote Review Request

Acknowledgments

About the Author

WESTERN CURTH TALEM

Chapter 1

The Rescue

Nathaniel had nothing but survival on his mind. Five days before, he had been an orc captive on his way to slave work in the eastern mines of the Dragonback Pike. But fortune had favored him. While his guards slept, a dryad from the tree he’d been tied to cut him free, releasing two other prisoners in turn. He had never run so swiftly, putting a good half mile between him and his captors. After reaching the river, he searched for a boat along the bank but found nothing. He knew the orcs might look for him to the south, so he worked his way north through the pluff mud and marsh grass, hiding with the marsh crabs and field rats during the day. He traveled as much as possible at night, avoiding the crocodile-infested river. Just as the morning sun’s orange and golden rays began warming the swampland, he saw what he hoped was his salvation. A small fishing boat, only twenty feet offshore, inhabited by an older fisherman. With each toss, he cast his net to the open river, leaning heavily to the port side of the skiff.

Starving and becoming weaker by the day, Nathaniel had only two choices. Hail the man, hoping he would succor aid, or consider trying to take command of the vessel by force. He preferred the former but worried the man might betray him to his pursuers. The latter wasn’t without risk, especially overpowering a muscular fisherman. He knew what was right but also what was most practical. He waffled, running each scenario through his mind. Finally, honesty prevailed, and he stood and called out to the man. Hey there, I need help.

The older man turned and squinted. Help, you say? What kind?

I need shelter and food. Then added, I can work for it.

The older fisherman ran a discerning eye over the young man. He was covered in mud, barefoot, gaunt, and desperate. He pulled out his six-inch fish scaler, holding it in plain view. I’m coming over. But try anything villainous, and I’ll gut you like a fish.

Never. Said Nathaniel, relieved.

The older man picked up a pole from the boat's bottom and punted the skiff to the muddy shore.

When Nathanial sloshed to the bank edge, the man said, That’s far enough, lad.

The young man slid to a stop in the soft top mud after another foot, his arms out to keep balance.

What’s yer name, lad?

Nathaniel. Yours?

LeCroy. How’d you get out in the middle of the brush? he said as he pulled a half loaf of bread from a burlap sack, broke it in half, and tossed it to Nathaniel. The boy attacked the offering, taking ravenous bites.

Slow down, lad, or you’ll puke it up. After a few heartbeats, the man through him a small waterskin.

Thanks, said Nat between chews.

The man watched the boy devour the bread and take a long draught of water.

I was on my way south when I was attacked while sleeping.

Attacked? the older man said, surprised. You wouldn’t be fibbing me. Would you? he said, folding his arms and giving Nathanial a stern look.

On my honor. The young man said, holding his hand up in mock pledge.

Go on.

Orcs slavers. They already had a girl and a goblin captive.

A girl? What was her name? LeCroy inquired, unsure if he heard a whopper or the truth.

She cried a lot. I think she said her name was Loree.

The older man jumped to his feet, almost toppling the skiff, eyes wide. Loree, you say? Why she's the daughter of the cobbler. After a stunned hesitation, he said, Do ya know if she got away?

Well, sort of a miracle happened. We were tied up next to a big oak. Out of nowhere, a female appeared from inside the tree. An Oread, I think. Nathaniel hesitated, seeing LeCroy gazing at him with suspicion. "It was amazing, but she cut our bonds, and we ran for it. I don’t know where the others went.

That’s a whale of a story, lad. Said LeCroy, looking down his nose at Nathaniel, hand on his chin. You don’t have to lie to me. What took place?

I know it sounds farfetched, but it’s true. That was five days ago.

After a long moment, the older man cursed, Demons! Five days! Quick lad, in the boat. We need to get some help from the village. He half-pulled Nathaniel into the dory floor and began punting as rapidly as he could push upriver. In a few hours, they sighted a small village with a wharf, housing a few empty skiffs and fishing boats tied to the dock. As soon as they were dockside, LeCroy jumped out and ran towards the closest building, leaving Nathaniel to tie off the skiff. The young man climbed out, looking at the building LeCroy had entered. It was a wooden structure, white paint peeling off; a sign reads, Cut Anchor Tavern, Gullyweed. Nathaniel considered running for it, perhaps stealing boots from a nearby home. But he felt terrible about leaving Loree and the Goblin behind, so he walked to the saloon through the setting rays of the afternoon sun. The tavern was full of rough fishermen and farmers, listening to LeCroy at the fireplace hearth, speaking loudly, This lad says he saw Loree in the hands of orc slavers. Didn’t ya, lad? pointing to Nathaniel as he walked in. Every eye turned to him; the tavern was suddenly quiet as a tomb.

Ah, yes. We were captives until we got free five nights ago. But I haven’t seen the others.

Others? said a bearded man with a lit pipe in one hand. There was more than Loree?

Yes, a goblin.

Mummering erupted throughout the tavern. Finally, a thin, tall man in a tunic and sandals said, How did you know it was her? She’s only been gone a week?

All I know is her name, Nathaniel said solemnly.

OK. We need to find her. Who’s with me? announced LeCroy. A handful of hands went up.

So be it. Get your weapons if you have some, and meet me outside in a half hour. Looking around the tavern, he added, The rest of you be damned! LeCroy stalked out, with Nathaniel following.

Once outside, LeCroy cursed, What in the Gods is wrong with this village? They deserve what they get. Then turning to Nathaniel, I’m going to my house around the corner to get my sword. Rusty but still usable. Get some food in the tavern while I’m gone. And tossed him a silver coin. Hopefully, more will join us. He strode off down the main village lane. Nathaniel stepped back inside the tavern and sat at the bar. He pulled out the coin and said, Bring me as much food and water as this will cover. The bartender nodded and returned with a large bowl of stew, fresh bread, and salted fish. He was starved and ate in big gulps, thinking about his situation. Knowing these fishermen could be massacred, he had no desire to go after the orcs. He also needed to find his lost friends. But as he left the bar and turned to head for the dock, he saw a figure peripherally in his vision. He stopped and peered into the shadows.

Are you the one whom the orcs held captive, came from the shadows. It was feminine but edgy.

Yes. Who’s asking? Responded Nathaniel, suspicious, still unable to see the figure.

A young woman stepped from the shadows. She wore a buckskin jerkin and pants over a lean build, muddied boots, and a long skinning knife in a wide black belt. Her face was tanned from the sun, her hair a deep auburn, braided down over her chest on one side. Her eyes were stunning turquoise which sparkled in the sunlight like polished gems, full of fire and strength. He’d never seen such breathtaking beauty. He noticed her ears were slightly pointed, suggesting she had some elvish lineage. Her left lobe sported a silver fishhook earring. Who was she? Why was she hovering in the shadows like a common thief? But his gaze drifted back to her eyes like two ocean storms raging in the morning light. His heart skipped a beat as he drank her in, mouth open and gawking until he realized she was speaking again.

Did you hear me, fool? I said, what happened to my sister?

Your sister? Snapping out of his reverie. Loree? I don’t know. Once free, we all ran for it. I never saw her again.

How long ago? she said fearfully, her bravado crumbling with the news.

Five days, Nathaniel whispered, knowing Loree’s survival chances were slim. He was fit and more muscular, yet had barely survived, thanks to LeCroy.

Silence filled the courtyard until she said, I’m going with you.

Nathaniel gave her a dangerous look. I hate to tell you, what’s your name?

Lani Belial.

Lani, I feel this rescue is an exercise in futility. Your sister is either recaptured or dead.

Coward! she said with a voice like a knife cut. You’re just afraid.

No, I’m a realist and the only one around here who has killed orcs and survived. By the look of things, the few men willing to search for Loree are common folk, farmers, and fisherman, not warriors.

They’re more capable than you think.

Maybe. But you must know that finding and killing orcs takes more than courage. It takes skill and a good bit of luck.

I don’t care. I’m going to search for Loree whether you’re coming or not. I can feel in my heart she’s alive.

Nathaniel gave her an appraising gaze. She wore a yearning look mixed with defiance and was more beautiful than he could imagine. So be it. was all he got out before LeCroy and four other men arrived. Each wore mismatched armor and helmets, and a few carried rusty swords. LeCroy handed the lad a pair of old boots and a skinning knife.

Here, I hope those fit. You ready to show us where you escaped? asked LeCroy.

Thanks, and put the boots over his ice-cold feet. Better. Then he looked at the ragtag group and frowned. He assessed their chances of success at less than 50% but knew their minds were set.

Facing LeCroy, Nathaniel said, Look, I appreciate your help more than you know. But I’ve been through five days of hell and need a few days of rest and food.

LeCroy gave him a stern look. I just saved your life, lad. You owe me. We don’t have time for rest. So, let’s go.

The young prince sighed in resignation, shaking his head. Follow me.

The small party moved down to the dock and climbed aboard LeCroy’s boat, and he began polling them back to where he rescued Nathaniel. He beached the boat on the soft river sand, and everyone climbed out. The mid-afternoon sun was warm on their necks, not a cloud in the sky, and the humidity palpable. Mosquitos buzzed endlessly, and sandflies relentlessly began biting. Nathaniel turned to the men and Lani before they entered the tall grass.

Keep your swords out, and walk as quietly as possible. We want to keep the element of surprise. He turned, hesitating as he faced the waist-high grass, wondering if this were the most foolish thing he’d ever attempted, then waded forward. He rapidly picked up his trail from the days before and strode forward. After two miles, the men began dragging, dripping with oven-heated sweat. They stopped for a water break, Nathaniel keeping a close eye out for the enemy. He let his gaze drift to Lani, drinking in her beauty. She was tough, stubborn, and gorgeous.

Let’s move on. Keep your weapons out.

The small group moved cautiously through the high grass until they were within a quarter league of the oread tree. Nathaniel put up the flat of his hand, signaling for the others to wait, then he got onto all fours and crawled forward. He reached the edge of the clearing and listened before pushing his head out. He could hear the occasional vulture’s squawk, and the smell of rotting flesh violently corrupted his nostrils. He poked his head out but saw no orcs, so he stood and strode into the clearing. Thirty feet away lay an orc's dead body, bloated and swollen in the heat, covered in blue flies, and half eaten by carrion birds. He turned the body over using his boot toe as the flies scattered in a buzzing throng. It was Jole. Nathaniel remembered the night he escaped, when Jole and the other orc captors had shared a bottle and become intoxicated, allowing him to escape. But, Jole had awakened just as Nathaniel had been freed.

His only choice was to hit the half-awake orc in full stride, driving him to the ground. He remembered the loud crack of the orc’s head as he fell back and crunched against a rock. He looked over at the large oak, the ropes still surrounding it that had held him and the other two prisoners. He walked up to the tree, knelt, and said a phrase in Elvish, Open my savior and aid me once more. I implore you.

Nothing happened. He shook his head and turned to collect the others waiting when he heard a soft sound of footsteps.

How can I help, my prince? came a sing-song voice in his head, velvet soft yet firm.

He turned to see a maiden, her green dress flowing to her knees, her dark brown hair in a braid down her left shoulder, adorned with acorns and oak leaves. She had hazel eyes and creamy tan skin and looked down shyly at her bare feet.

Hello. Don’t be afraid; I mean no harm. He hesitated, not wanting to scare her away. My name is Nathaniel Ironfist.

Her lips never moved, but he heard her voice in his mind. I know who you are, my prince.

You do? he blurted out, unable to release his eyes from her. What's your name?

Maeve

Maeve. Thank you for saving me the other night.

Maeve giggled like a shrill little-girl giggle. I was asked to help you any way I could.

I don’t understand.

You’re a friend of King Polaris of Serensith Talam. He searches for you.

What? Nathaniel said urgently, forgetting everything else. Where is he? Does he know where my friends are?

Your friends are outside Tajman Sghar with my cousin. Look for the mighty Rowan tree, she said, turning to re-enter the oak.

Wait. I’m looking for a girl who was also a prisoner. What happened to her?

She too ran, but south. The goblin foolishly stumbled and awoke the others. She looked down again. They moved east. She said, pointing with her arm towards the eastern mountains.

Thank you, Maeve. For everything. Maeve turned a light shade of pink, nodded, and disappeared into her tree.

When the others came into the clearing, Nathaniel turned and was about to step into the grass.

We got worried, lad. You ok? asked LeCroy.

Nat answered, Sorry. Loree escaped and went south; the orcs went east.

LeCroy and Lani looked at him, questioning.

My savior, an oread, told me.

A what? queried one fisherman named Vink, eyes narrowed.

A tree-dweller. But when no one seemed to understand, he said, Forget it.

Nathaniel walked to the edge of the clearing and knelt next to Lani. She gazed down at the clearing, scouring the area for footprints.

They went this way, she said, pointing an arm in the direction of female tracks in the sandy soil.

He and the others followed, wading into the sea of marsh grass, stopping every hundred yards to reconnoiter. After several miles, Lani found a makeshift nest of grass and weed fronds. She stopped, studying the brush for the reptile inhabitant. Nat moved forward to lead, continuing to where the trail turned toward the water. Not far from the river bank, he knelt again, scouring the ground. Both boots and feet made multiple prints. Lani came up and looked over his shoulder. What is it?

Looks like Loree’s luck never improved. She ran into other creatures, hard to tell what kind, but they wore boots.

Maybe other fishermen or hunters? We’re a long way from Gullyweed.

Maybe. However, Nathaniel suspected either more orcs or bandits. He turned to the others.

It looks like Loree ran into another group. It could be anything from orcs to bandits if she were captured. He waited for the news to sink in. Whoever it is, we may be up against odds greater than expected. Anyone who wants to turn back, do so now, without criticism.

The two fishermen rubbed their chins, thinking, and looked at each other, but neither moved. Nathaniel looked at each man. He thought that all looked worn, with perspiration running down their faces, as much as from fear as from the journey.

OK, let’s get moving.

Followed by Lani and LeCroy, Nathaniel trudged on, following the boot prints. Hours went by; each member was silent in their thoughts. Finally, Nathaniel stopped the group as the sun lowered into orange, pink, and gold hues over the delta. He could hear talking up ahead, but the language was indecipherable. He motioned for the others to wait, and he crab-walked forward. In another fifty yards, he came to a shallow cut about ten feet wide; on the other side was a small clearing.

Three creatures in leather armor sat on packs around a small fire. One was about the size of a man but had tanned skin and hairy arms too long for his body. Next to him was a taller but thin creature with a canine face, with short pointed ears. A Gnoll? wondered Nathaniel. The other was more diminutive, about three feet tall, with a large red nose and sharp needle-like teeth. He had a pick ax at his side, marking him as one of the cave dwellers known as Kobolds. They all wore the insignia of the red shooting star over a black mountain. Tied to a stake on the far side of the clearing edge was a human girl clothed in muddy rags. Her hair was brown but matted, and she was sprawled on the ground, either sleeping or unconscious.

Nathaniel returned to the group, and whispered, There are three captors. Loree is on the far side. I think we can get her if we split up.

Split up? That’ll be the death of us. Spat Vink. We need help.

No time for help, Vink. We’re on our own. said LeCroy, stating the obvious.

We have a surprise on our side. We charge across the cut and engage them while Lani sneaks around and cuts Loree free, suggested Nathaniel.

That’s too dangerous. What if there’re others? questioned LeCroy emphatically.

I’ll be ok. I’m a better fighter than most of you lot, anyway. Said Lani, defiance in her tone. LeCroy gave her a side-long look, then snorted and said, Let’s go.

The group gave Lani ten minutes to get into position before all four crawled forward to the edge of the cut. The brackish water was silty, and its depth was unknown. They had to hope it was shallow, or their advantage of surprise would be lost. Nathaniel looked at the weary men with him. These weren’t warriors but simple fishermen who carved a life out of nature. Sweat poured down their face, their dirt-covered tunics saturated, their eyes radiating fear like a fan.

Nathaniel whispered encouragement. We can do this. Remember--For Loree, gave the nod and turned to climb into the cut. He could make out the tall gnoll speaking in low tones, then just as Nathaniel rose, he sniffed into the air and said, Intruders!

---

Several things happened at once. Nathaniel charged across the cut, followed by LeCroy and the other two fishermen, but the water was almost knee-high, slowing his progress. The gnoll and the other two stood, eyes wide, at the attackers, reaching for their weapons. From the other clearing edge, Lani sneaked out of the tall grass, reaching Loree to cut her bonds. In what seemed like minutes, the group crossed the cut and charged up the bank, met by all three soldiers. Sword-raised, Nathaniel slashed down at the first soldier, the hairy man, almost severing his right forearm. Blood spurted in gushes as the man’s eyes popped, dropping his sword and grabbing at his mangled arm. Nat twisted, chopping hard into the warrior's chest. He crumpled on the spot. He turned just as the gnoll sliced through the chest of Vink, who fell in a heap. LeCroy was in a heated battle with the kobold, bleeding from several wounds inflicted by the pick ax. The other fisherman, witnessing Vink’s demise, turned to flee but was caught in the neck by the gnoll’s blade, his head toppling over into the cut.

Nathaniel saw an opening, swinging down on the gnoll, who twisted to parry the strike. For several minutes they exchanged blows, equally matched. Nathaniel realized the gnoll was a ferocious fighter, his blade a whirlwind of gashes, stabs, and slices. He struggled to parry the blows, holding off the attack repeatedly by a hair’s breadth. Suddenly, having just dodged a savage strike from the beast, Nat felt an excruciating pain in his thigh as the gnoll slashed him with his dagger. He fell back, hobbling out of the monster’s reach. But the gnoll saw his advantage and re-doubled his attack, pushing Nathaniel back, step by step, to the cut edge. The lad fell back, blow upon blow reigning down on him to the bank lip. As he slipped down, the gnoll howled, arching his back in pain, a dagger stuck deep below his shoulder blade. He whirled, forgetting Nathaniel, to cut down the assailant. Lani stepped back, defenseless, hands held over her head, her eyes wide with terror. The gnoll raised his sword overhead, ready to slice the female in half. But the sword never fell, as a sword point shot through the beast’s chest in a spray of dark blue blood. The monster gasped, lurched forward, and crumpled to the turf like a felled tree. Nathaniel wrenched his sword free, and limped forward, blood running down his leg. In one movement, Lani wrapped him in a bear hug, tears welling in her eyes.

Thank you, thank you, she murmured.

But the fight wasn’t over, as LeCroy, wounded and bloody, continued to slash at the smaller and quicker Kobold. Nathaniel pulled away, and whispered, Stay behind me. He stepped forward, nudging his sword tip between the beast’s shoulder blades. The kobold froze in mid-strike. The creature never heard the lad, concentrating solely on ending LeCroy, until he felt the prick of Nathaniel’s blade in his back.

Drop it or die.

The beast said something in a chittering voice, dropped the pick ax, and raised his hands.

Nathaniel wasn’t taking any chances and said, Down on your face, arms wide.

The kobold moved slowly, keeping Nathaniel in his peripheral vision and lying face down in the grass.

Do you speak the common tongue? Nathaniel asked.

The kobold nodded. I dunt vant to die, human, the creature moaned.

Nathaniel stepped up, knelt, and was about to tie the monster’s hands when the kobold swiveled, a small dagger appearing in his hand. He whipped it side-arm towards the lad, but his aim was off as LeCroy drove his blade deep into the kobold's back. It cried in a shrill scream before rolling on its side, blood dripping down its back.

Good riddance, said LeCroy as he stumbled backward onto his seat, breathing hard. Nathaniel noticed the blood blooming over his belly. He and Lani rushed over.

LeCroy. You saved me again.

Lani pulled up the older man’s shirt, revealing severe lacerations and one deep penetrating wound oozing blood.

Ha. You saved me, boy. If you hadn’t come in when you did, the beast surely had me.

Thank Lani. She distracted the gnoll, so I could end him and get free. Then, he turned to the woman. I owe you my life. Thank you.

He saw a brief coloring to her cheeks for the first time before she turned her attention to LeCroy. He’d never seen a woman more beautiful.

You’re hurt bad, my friend. She tore strips off his tunic and wrapped his belly to staunch the bleeding. LeCroy was pale but smiled and said, Nothing, some rest won't mend. How’s Loree?

They roughed her up a bit, but I think she’ll be ok.

Can you walk? Nathaniel turned to his friend.

I don’t know, lad. But I’ll try.

Nathaniel helped the older man to his feet but quickly crumpled back to the ground. Sweat beaded on LeCroy’s forehead, and his breath came in gulps. I can’t make it.

Yes, you can. Scolded Lani. You’re the toughest man I know. I’ll help you.

Nathaniel stood. Hold on. He hobbled over to the creek bank and looked down its length as far as possible. A boat was pulled up and partially hidden in the marsh grass about fifty feet away. He walked over, wading through the grass, and worked the skiff by a rope tied to the bow down the cut equal to Lani and LeCroy’s location. He moved to LeCroy’s side and, with the woman’s help, carried the wounded man to the dory, laying him in the boat well. The older man had lost consciousness, covered in sweat and blood.

Get your sister. He told Lani as he rifled through the three enemies' pockets and collected their weapons. In the gnoll’s breast pocket was a parchment written in some evil tongue. Nathaniel pocketed the letter, and once the two women were on board, they pushed off and lowered the oars into the locks. He rowed several hours, made more difficult against the river current, but close to midnight; he saw the glowing lights of Gullyweed in the distance. In another two hours, he had the boat at the dock. Lani had tried to succor LeCroy, bathing his head with cool river water and re-tightening his field dressing. Loree had remained silent, cowering in the bow, her eyes bruised and swollen, moaning softly as she rocked back and forth. Once at the dock, Lani got out and ran to the tavern, returning with several men with torches in a few minutes.

Bollocks! Ya found her! said one man, leaning over the boat side.

What happened to Lole and Vink? asked another. But when they saw LeCroy, they scrambled over and lifted him to the dock.

Carry him to my house. Ordered Lani, taking charge. And wake the Herbalist. They carried the wounded man off while Lani, with Nathaniel’s help, lifted Loree out of the boat. The girl continued to moan and cry as Lani put her arms around her, whispering, You’re ok, Loree. We’re home now.

The two sisters walked down the main road, leaving Nathaniel to hobble after.

---

The following day, Nathaniel awoke with a start, his right leg aching terribly. The herbalist, Granny Greenleaf, had sewn his laceration closed and applied herbs to reduce infection. He was lying on a bed of hay, more than a few straws sticking in his hair, when he heard someone approaching. Lani smiled at him as she strolled in carrying a plate of eggs and ham.

I thought you’d be hungry. How’d you sleep?

Nathaniel’s stomach rumbled as he dug into the food, realizing he hadn’t eaten in almost two days.

Thanks. He said, mouth half full. How’s LeCroy?

Lani looked down, eyes misting. The herbalist tried her best. Granny G says his fate is with the Gods. her voice caught as it trailed off.

Nathaniel’s stomach dropped, and he squeezed his eyes closed. LeCroy had rescued him not long before, saved his life, and now he was holding on by a thread. Why? What did it all mean? So many injured and so many lost, he thought. He wondered if Jacoby and the others were hurt or dead. He shook his head, clearing his morbid mindset, and said, He’s a strong man and a fighter. Neither spoke for several heartbeats. And Loree?

She’s young. With time she’ll heal.

Nathaniel nodded and stood. Good news. He hesitated and added, It’s time for me to find my brother and friends. He smiled down into her turquoise eyes. Thank you for everything.

Lani looked away, tears still in her eyes. Must you? I need…. I mean, the town needs someone to defend us. In case other soldiers come, I mean. Lani’s face was scarlet red, and she turned her back to him. I don’t want you to go. The words rushed out, and she looked down.

Nathaniel walked over and turned her to face him, lifting her chin. Their eyes met, and he leaned close to her and said, I’ll miss you, Lani Belial. Her heart pounded, and the world stood still. He held her close, brushed his lips lightly over hers, sending tingles down her spine, and whispered, I’ll see you again. Then, Nathaniel Ironfist smiled and hobbled toward the docks, leaving Lani breathless and flushed.

RUE

Chapter 2

The Search

Jacoby Ironfist, leaning on his cane, strolled around the yard behind the massive Rowan tree, skirting the reflection pool and passing past the vegetable garden. A nasty leg wound he had received three weeks earlier was still intentionally healing from within after becoming infected. It had been a miracle his group had found Meister Gruaware, a Brownie healer who lived in the Rowan with his wife, Byrgid, and daughter, Rue. The old healer had saved his life, as well as two others in the group who were severely wounded.

He and his small group of fellow warriors had faced a titanic battle with a Royal orc named Scarab and a vile, undead mage named Ravenite. At the time, Scarab and Ravenite had captured Jacoby’s ward, Nathaniel Aarmon, the true heir to the throne of the Western power, Tabor. They took him to the Island of Dead Souls, called Marbh te Nah, an epicenter of wickedness and haunted by unholy spirits. Ravenite and his henchman had hoped to destroy Tabor’s future by capturing and sacrificing the lad. However, Jacoby and his fellow warriors rescued Nathaniel and defeated Scarab and Ravenite. The battle was costly, almost killing Jacoby and several group members. Worse yet, he had lost contact with Nathaniel, who escaped during the conflict. The young man had disappeared, and Jacoby was terrified he might be injured or worse. Jacoby had raised the lad from birth as a brother and intended to find and protect him from further harm.

As frustrating as it was, Jacoby knew healing was essential before he could begin his search for Nathaniel. So, he walked daily, pushing his body more each day to improve his strength. After the third lap around the massive tree and garden, he stopped to catch his breath, dabbing at the sweat dripping off his brow with a kerchief. He felt like he’d run five miles, but his stamina improved each day incrementally. His stomach growled, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since the night prior, so e turned to head back inside. Standing at the back door stood his best friend, Grullach Furr. Grullach, a tall halfling, had been his best friend since they had both served in the Taborian military a decade earlier.

You’re making great strides, my friend.

Not fast enough. How’s Allai’nn?

She’s back to normal, although starting some signs of morning sickness. Allai’nn Hy’nhasbren was the princess of the Star Elf land of Serensith Talam and Grull’s wife. She was ten weeks pregnant with their first child.

And Cor’in?

Out of bed, but moving a little slower than you. Jacoby smiled and nodded, knowing his friend Cor’in Viridis, a half-elf with little patience, would be frustrated by his slow progress.

I hope to be well enough to travel in another week. We’ve got to find Nat!

I know. We have to have confidence that the lad remembered those years of training you gave him.

---

Nathaniel waited silently in the brush, the tall reeds and marsh grass that grew along the river concealing him from the orc patrol. After leaving Lani and the fishing village, he landed along a stretch of sandy riverbank, camped overnight, and crossed the few hundred yards back to his skiff when he heard orc voices. Now he waited just yards away from the orc raiders who meandered down the hunter’s trail before him. Led by a stout sergeant, the warriors were of varying ages and heights, all uniformed in gray-green tunics emblazoned with the black mountain and red shooting star insignia, unknown to Nathaniel. Each carried a short pike in one hand, a short crossbow over its back, and a metal dagger jingling at its belt. Nathaniel remained hidden, counting ten individuals making up the orc platoon plod by across the sandy mud of the marsh. When he felt the coast was clear, he tip-toed out from the reeds, making as little noise as possible, but slipped on a patch of gushy pluff mud, sending him flying. He landed with a loud crash, his ceramic bowl and cup in his backpack shattering on impact. The noise rang out across the marsh, loud enough to alert the nearest orc soldier, who called out in the evil tongue, What was that?

The big sergeant grunted, What did you hear?

A noise. Maybe a hunter?

Let’s find out. Maybe our first slave just fell in our laps.

Nathaniel’s eyes widened at the orc voices, and he shot down the trail in the opposite direction, leaving his pack behind. Can I reach my skiff? He wondered. He ignored the boot steps running behind him and entered the tall marsh grass heading for the river. The prince danced his way across the mushy turf and broke through a wall of cattails, vines, and river oats to the water's edge. In his haste, Nathaniel had miscalculated and could see his skiff pulled up to the bank another thirty yards downstream. He sloshed his way through the shallow water, reaching the boat just as the first orc head appeared through the reeds. He shoved the boat into the water and leaped onboard, wrenching up his only paddle and pushing off toward the fast-flowing river center.

Nathaniel ignored the commotion behind him, paddling the skiff across the rippling ebony veneer. He had barely reached deep water when he felt a sharp bite on his left shoulder. I’ve been hit! His left shoulder burned like he’d been branded, and he felt warm blood oozing from the wound but had no time to staunch it. He felt another arrow whiz by his head and unconsciously ducked, still paddling the boat to reach the turbulent central river current. Finally, he felt a lurch; his tiny boat grasped and carried away in the palm of the wild river water. Exhaustion punched at him, and he now felt free to address his shoulder wound. Strangely, Nathaniel’s vision clouded and swirled. What’s happening? shook his head, but his world continued to spin, his body turning cold and rubbery.  His mind finally registered the truth as his vision darkened, and he fell forward, unconscious. Poison!

---

Rue, the half-Oread daughter of Meister Gruawane, lay flat on the grass near the large root of the Rowan tree. This was her favorite spot in the yard, where the roots congregated in a mass close to the river edge. Being half Oread or tree dweller, her mother