Blood Dawn
CHAPTER ONE
FALL OF MINNORAS
Two days from Minnoras, Timon began to see people on the road. They had crossed the Idar River above the place where it fed into the Hillora, and struck the south road to Minnoras a day back, then the main road that morning. The highway was wide and deeply rutted by the passage of countless wagons over the centuries. Scattered stands of white pine sprinkled through with red oaks leaned out across the edges of the road with a barrier of green leafy brush and tall plumed grasses between the stands and stretched to the forest proper. They passed no one going south toward the city, but many people going north. The majority traveled hurriedly with just the clothes they wore, not so much as a pack on their backs or a bag on a stick. Occasionally heavily laden wagons rolled past accompanied by several outriders. Timon saw haunted, frightened faces everywhere.
Timon had ridden out with a token guard of ten royals. He had seen no need to bring lycan scouts. This should have been enough for anything they might face; now he began to wonder. He could tell that these people were running from something-all of them. He spied a female with three children and seeing her without a male to protect her was odd; women rarely traveled alone.
"You there!" Timon called to the female. He dismounted and squatted in front of her.
She cowered, clutching her children tight. She flinched from his gaze, dropping her head like a whipped dog.
Timon frowned at the fear he saw in her eyes. "What are you running from? Is there trouble in Minnoras? I won't hurt you."
"Bad trouble," the mon said, shifting uneasily. "All the priests are dead. Something howls in the night on the rooftops. Folks going missing."
Timon reached in his pouch, pulled out some coins, and put them in her hand. "Make for Shaurone, mon."
Shaurone was the most powerful nation on the continent, and the most willing to take in refugees. While Vallimrah was nearly as strong, the Valdren, one of the six high races of sylvans, were an insular lot, and did not like humans entering their lands. In Timon's estimation, Rowanhart was already shaping up as the third strongest realm under the Sacred King, but it was much farther from Minnoras and harder to reach. She would still have to travel through Angrim and Beltria, realms Timon had a serious dislike for because their aggressively monotheistic religion denied both the Gods of Light and the hellgods. He doubted the Angrimers and Beltrians would harm a lone female with children and their roads were closely guarded.
"Yes, lord. I intend to. Thank you, lord." Then she fled with her children.
Timon remounted and they rode further before anyone spoke.
"Sounds like Zyne has gone rogue," Amiri said. She and Zulaika rode closest to Timon.
"My father should have sent word by now," Timon said thoughtfully. "We had a decent network in place for such possibilities. Furthermore, Zyne is not sa. Bodramet's papers said sa'nekaryiane." His father had several winged shifters that he could have sent with messages. If he had sent them, they had not arrived at the estate. Timon had always relied on riders and birds. None of his Borealysyn were mirror-gifted or shifters. If myn did not have that gift before becoming undead, they did not develop it. A warrior mage in his days as a living mon, his father had it. He had learned it in Imralon on the island continent of Sealandia before they were forced to flee the wrath of Willodarus. They had clearly not planned for contingencies as well as they had believed.
Timon had never told his father that his choices of who dwelled at the estate were based on the secretive philosophy of the Borealysyn that he had founded without his father's knowledge.
"The best laid plans," Zulaika replied.
Timon nodded. He had always been cautious by nature, made more so by the circumstances of his death four thousand years ago. His father took chances enough for both of them. Which was not to say that his father was reckless, only more willing to take risks. Timon wondered if Hoon had lost this toss of the dice as he had so many recent gambles. Hoon's legendary luck seemed to be finally running out on him.
"Unless he's doing this himself?" Zulaika suggested.
Timon shook his head. "Destroying a city is not my father's idea of getting himself a kingdom. It has to be the sa'nekaryiane's work. All the more reason to reach my father." Or would he? Destroy a city? A rumor had come from Charas that Hoon had slain all of his nibari and others who might have told the Sacred King where to find his holdings once it became clear he would lose.
Site Map | Forum | Scientology Warning | Designed by Phil Smith. | All content © Janrae Frank 2005-8.