For those wishing to start the series from the beginning, here is Chapter 1 of Book 1.
For those wishing to read the beginning of this book, here is Prologue - “Memories”.
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I hope everyone will enjoy!
“Majesty,” Bondar said the next day. “The Mith Lord is still alive. The tracking device tells us that his physical condition is growing steadily worse. It’s only a matter of time before he collapses or dies. Strangely, he is increasingly under high stress. His heart rate accelerates to the same rate we have measured when he is under attack.”
“Is he under attack?” Ashurra asked.
“It is possible,” Bondar replied.
“It is not possible,” Kremmal returned. “Nothing lives in the Deep Desert. And no one lives there—except madness.”
“Perhaps madness is attacking him,” she laughed. “Which direction is he heading now?”
Bondar turned her glare from Kremmal to the floor.
“It seems that he is slowly circling. We can’t say if he is lost or if he thinks that he lost us. Either way, he’s eventually going to end up not far from where he launched off the cliff.” The pretty captain shook her head. “That was incredible to watch.”
“He is a fool,” Kremmal muttered. “Only a fool would challenge the madness of the Deep Desert.”
“Any word from Nishak?” she asked.
Bondar’s gaze flickered to Kremmal and then to her.
“No, Majesty,” replied the captain. “We can tell they have begun moving again by the scanners. But it’s slow. Communication was reestablished and lost again during the night.”
Kremmal was frowning at her but she ignored him.
“And our repairs?” she asked.
“We are fully repaired, Majesty. As reported, it was sand clogging the intakes. We’ve replaced the filters and established a routine physical check. So far, no more problems.”
“Very good,” she replied. “When the Mith Lord collapses—oh yes, he must! He is human. And when he collapses, I want us to be prepared to go pick him up.”
Kremmal stared at her while Bondar paled.
“Majesty….” Bondar’s voice trailed off.
“It should be no hard thing,” she told Bondar. “We would be guided by the Mith Lord’s tracking device. And then, we should have a lock on another shuttle to home in for our return. “I’m not planning on challenging madness, if you are so stupid to believe this primitive. But I will not give up my Mith Lord. Ah, I almost forgot—did tracking give you an estimate on his duration?”
“Tomorrow,” Bondar said grimly. “They said it would be impossible for him to survive his current conditions beyond tomorrow afternoon. His body is too depleted.”
“Then have the night watch prepare for immediate departure,” she ordered. “Tomorrow, we shall have my Mith Lord and be on our way home.”
*
By the sounds of the sentries, Leref knew they were frustrated and upset. The insistence of waiting for the Mithren to return from the Deep Desert was the height of insanity to Leref. But he waited because the greeners waited. The desert night had fallen, leaving the Lesser Sun to bathe the desert with his bronze light. It was brighter here than in Leref’s home region, more like daylight. He would not sleep well outside his tent, without one of his wives to soothe his taut muscles.
Movement came from the rocks below him. Without moving his head, he looked toward the movement. It was another nomad, for no greener could move with such fluidity. The person approaching was barely visible, even to his eye, and he smiled. Who else but the nomads could exist so well in the desert? Was it not their home, their land? It is our destiny to rule the desert, he thought.
The nomad slipped up beside him. It was Jorgan. Leref grinned at him, hearing the sentries grumbling about guarding nothing but sand and rocks. The chieftain of the north listened with great attention and then nodded. Leref grinned again, almost laughing. So easily, he and Jorgan could dispatch all ten of the greeners on the other side of the rock.
Jorgan leaned close and whispered, “According to the plan, we wait. But some wonder if we should attack even now. The Mithren will not come out of the Deep Desert.”
Poking a thumb at the rock behind them, Leref whispered, “They are angry. If we attack now, their anger will fuel their drive to fight. They wait. We wait.”
Jorgan nodded.
“The Mithren,” Jorgan whispered. “Why did he go into the Deep Desert?”
Leref sneered silently.
“They refuse to fight,” he whispered.
“But they carry weapons,” Jorgan protested. “Forgive my questions, but there are few Mithren where I come from.”
“Their weapons are for fighting gods,” Leref replied. At Jorgan’s expression, he shrugged. “They claim to have warred with enemies of mankind for thousands of years. But the demons they speak of, where are they? I know no one who has.”
Jorgan nodded. After a time, Jorgan whispered, “How long should we wait?”
“The Mithren has been running for weeks,” Leref replied. “He will not go far in the Deep Desert and the great storm has passed out there. I think they are planning on retrieving him at some point. When they bring him back, they will begin disassembling their defenses.”
Jorgan smiled and whispered, “Then we strike.”
Leref nodded.
“Then we strike.”
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