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Daughter of Llathe: A Tale of the Two Rings

Ben Cassidy

Daughter of Llathe

  A Tale of the Two Rings

  By

  Ben Cassidy

  Copyright 2013 Ben Cassidy

  Books in the Chronicles of Zanthora:

  Ghostwalker

  Throne of Llewyllan

  Soulbinder

  Demonbane

  Oracle (Coming Soon)

  Tales of the Two Rings

  Daughter of Llathe: A Tale of the Two Rings

  Tales of the Two Rings: Volume 1 (August 2013)

  Tales of the Two Rings Volume 2 (September 2013)

  To join an email update listserv for future releases, contact:

  [email protected]

  Dedicated to the members of the Columbia River Christian Writers,

  For all their advice, criticism, and encouragement

  The dala fruit field was a disaster. That was the first sign something was wrong.

  Nali pulled her greelak up at the edge of the field, right where the rainforest began to thin and give way to the flooded ground. The beast gave a low, mournful cry through its beaked mouth, and its long tail lashed back and forth.

  Nali reached down and patted her lizard-mount gently on its neck. “Hush, Kili,” she murmured.

  She swept her eyes over the field, her sharp sight catching subtle details even in the darkness of the Long Night. Everywhere she looked vines were overthrown and half-eaten fruit was scattered in the calf-deep water. Whole trellises were knocked over or simply shattered into pieces.

  Beasts had been in the field for tens of watches. Perhaps longer. At this point at least half the crop looked to be lost.

  Kili snuffed about in the water and snatched a dala fruit up in his beak.

  Nali made no move to stop him. Her eyes flicked to the black shape of the wooden watchtower which stood in the middle of the flooded field. It was dark, and appeared empty.

  There should be at least two watchwomen there.

  She pulled the peaked hood of her lizardskin cloak further over her face to guard against the pouring rain, then gave Kili a gentle nudge. The beast obediently lumbered forward into the water, its four feet sloshing across the flooded field.

  Nali loosened her shard rifle from where it was strapped over her shoulder, and quickly undid the cord that held the lizardskin cover over the weapon’s muzzle. She yanked the cover free and cradled the rifle in her arms as they approached the watchtower.

  As they moved her gaze moved restlessly over the field, peering through the falling rain for any sign of movement. She hated to be in the open like this, exposed and vulnerable. The sound of the warm rain plopping into the water made it difficult to hear, and even Nali’s trained eyes had difficulty seeing far through the gloom.

  The watchtower loomed up before the rider and her mount. There was no sign of movement inside and no hail as she approached.

  Nali slid off the greelak’s back, the shard rifle still in her hands. Her bare feet sank into the tepid water of the field, the rain pattering off the waterproof lizardskin cloak that covered her scantily-dressed form. Aside from a lizardskin loincloth and one golden anklet she wore nothing at all.

  “Bright Star guide you!” she called out, cupping one hand over her mouth.

  There was no reply.

  Nali touched the crossbelt of lizardskin-wrapped shard cartridges across her chest, reassuring herself they were still there. The curved throwing knife at her hip was in easy reach as well.

  The greelak shuffled nervously, snuffling around in the falling rain for another dala fruit.

  Nali strapped the rifle over her shoulder again and climbed up the ladder. Her lithe, green form moved swiftly up the rungs. She entered the watchtower through the trap door.

  The watchtower was empty. There were no bodies, no sign of a struggle or disturbance, but also no indication that anyone had manned the post for some time.

  Nali frowned, unslung her rifle and moved to the railing. She pushed her shoulder-length red hair back and looked out over the field in all directions, the gun held at the ready. The rain drummed ceaselessly on the roof above her.

  This wasn’t right. Something here was wrong, terribly wrong.

  There was a quick flash of movement in the dark, a shifting of shadows at the far edge of the field.

  Nali whipped the rifle up to her shoulder, scanning the treeline. For several long seconds she tracked down the barrel of the shard gun, searching for some other sign of life.

  There was nothing.

  She slowly lowered the rifle, biting her lip. A deathstalker, perhaps? Usually they were too smart to venture into an open dala field. Or was it just her mind playing tricks on her?

  The village of Veel’na was less than half a watch’s journey away, just four hours or so to the northeast. That should be her next stop. She would undoubtedly get answers there, one way or another.

  She shouldered her rifle again and turned to the ladder.

  “Halt!” came the voice from out of the falling rain. “Who passes?”

  Nali pulled her mount to a halt, and raised her hands high into the air. “My name is Nali,” she said calmly. “I am a Wayfinder.”

  There was a pause. Nali waited patiently in the darkness, her hands still raised.

  “How many are with you?” There was fear in the voice.

  “Just me,” Nali responded.

  Another long pause, this time for several seconds.

  Normally a village in the lowlands posted guards at its perimeters, and Nali was relieved to find watchwomen here at Veel’na. But this level of suspicion was highly unusual. Nali had already declared herself, and was in plain view on the trail.

  “Wait a moment,” came the belated answer.

  A guard stepped out into view about sixty feet above Nali’s head, on a walkway attached to the side of one of the enormous ugala trees that dotted the rainforest. Like Nali, she wore a body-length lizardskin cloak to shield her from the near-constant rain.

  A second later a rope ladder dropped down to the ground, swaying from where it hung off the walkway

  Nali dismounted, giving her greelak a reassuring scratch. “Stay here, Kili,” she whispered.

  The beast gave a long, sorrowful moan.

  Nali moved to the ladder and climbed quickly up the twisting rungs. She pulled herself up onto the walkway, shaking the raindrops from her hood.

  “Bright Star guide you,” she said, putting a clenched fist over her heart.

  The guard returned the salute, nodding her head as well. “And you.” She was wearing a full set of armor under the cloak, including a crested helmet. The metal was tinted blue and fringed in white, the colors of the Azure Hawks, a group of Gar’Noomren mercenaries. A shard rifle was looped over the guard’s shoulder, and a short sword was sheathed at her belt.

  Nali scowled. She had hoped to find Tal’Noomren from House Jaela here in the village. Instead Jalara Hesdeen, the ruler of House Jaela, had apparently hired out mercenary Gars to protect the town and the nearby plantations. It was a common enough tactic of the Noble Houses, especially for outlying towns and settlements in the lowlands where it wasn’t considered prestigious enough for regular House Tals to be posted.

  “You’ve left the dala fields unguarded,” said Nali. “The crop may already be a total loss. Where’s your commander? I need to speak with her now.”

  “Right here.”

  Nali turned, seeing another woman in blue armor approach. Unlike the first guard, she wore no helmet and her intricately braided black hair fell down over one shoulder. Her skin was a dark shade of red.

  “You’re Nevagan,” Nali said without thinking.

  “I�€
™m also a Gar’Mel,” the warrior responded sharply, “and you will address me as such. My name is Leela. Who are you?”

  Nali bit back a nasty response. “Nali. The fields are unguarded, Gar’Mel. Why are there no watchwomen at their posts?”

  Two other Gar’Noomren in the blue and white armor of the Azure Hawks stepped up behind the Nevagan Gar’Mel. Like Nali and all other native-born Llathese, their skin was green, making the Nevagan’s red tone stand out even more.

  “How many others are with you?” Leela said, crossing to the railing of the walkway as she peered down to the path below. “Did you bring Tals?”

  Nali glanced uncertainly at the other Gar’Noomren. Other faces were starting to appear on nearby walkways and suspension bridges above them, inhabitants of the tree-village who were straining to overhear the conversation.

  “I came alone,” Nali repeated. She pushed back the hood from her head, the walkway covered from the driving rain. “I’ve been three weeks out from Reteel. I was told that you—”

  Leela turned sharply, her face hard as granite. “You brought no reinforcements?”

  “The last message we got from you indicated that you were having some trouble from a rogue karanos. I was sent to help you track it down.” Nali looked from face to face, reading barely-hidden