(obviously I won’t be posting every chapter, but these two should give you some insight into the two main protagonists)

Chapter 2

Horses and soldiers had lumbered across the dry plateau for three days, trailing a cloud of dust spiraling fifty feet into the air.  Chat-Ranj, the orange eye of the sun god, hovered above the horizon, casting long shadows that wavered behind them like wraiths at their heels.  Peasants, shepherding stubby-horned dumbbeasts and bleating fat-faced sheep, stared as they passed.

Kaigan and his warriors rode northwest, away from home, away from Maajnara, to the base of the Zatare Mountains, where the River Nara erupted from its rocky crags.

“You’re full of mirth.”  Kaigan said, his reverie broken when his friend trotted his roan beside Kaigan’s gray.

“You ride with us but you do not hear.”  Eshutano chuckled.  He put his hands behind his ears and flapped them back and forth.

Kaigan looked at Esh — at his compact, wiry frame, his olive skin, his white hair worn free, bound only by a leather headband — so different from the swarthy Maajnaran complexion and long black hair, braided with beads and copper encased in a swath of cloth.  Kaigan and Eshutano had been friends as long as he could remember; yet Esh was much older.  He didn’t know how old and didn’t ask, but the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, and he always had a smile, his swollen knuckles, the stiffness he walked off after a long day’s ride, all told him that Esh had seen more seasons than he let on.  Strictly speaking, Kaigan was his leader by rank.  By birth?  He didn’t know where Esh called home.  He never spoke of it and Kaigan never asked.  It was enough that he was here by his side.

“Hear what?”  He knew the men had been talking, joking with each other, but he hadn’t paid attention to their words, lost as he’d been in thoughts of the past and future.

It had been a year since he had last set eyes on his father, Korroll, and then, the time too brief, too intense, though he would never reveal his disappointment.  Their heated argument left Kaigan bitter.  The Master of Maajnara kept a strict warrior code, one that didn’t include favoritism or sentimentality toward his only son.  It was past time for Kaigan to swallow his pride and mend old wounds.

“They say,” Esh waved an arm behind him, indicating the legion of soldiers following, “that King Cassell is as old as the hills, and his daughter will be older!”

An age-old euphemism.  The men within earshot laughed heartily without fear of retribution.

“I have it on good authority,” Kaigan thumped his leather-clad chest, “that Princess Darhna is as fresh as the morning dew and as lovely as a dream fairy.”

“I’ve heard she’s a hellcat on two feet.  She’s well rumored at Castle Faal to be practicing the sword and knife.  She’ll need those skills as your wife.”  Esh winked.

His soldiers erupted in howls of laughter.  Apparently, they agreed.  Let them have their fun.  Soon enough, they’d have to return to battle.  Bandits hid in the mountains.  Their attacks ruined trade routes and devastated settled farmland.  What herds they didn’t steal, they slaughtered.  He was determined to weed them out and put an end to them once this treaty was signed and his marriage consummated.

Esh leaned toward Kaigan, as much as two horses riding side-by-side would allow.  “At least you’ll be wedding someone with character, instead of some winsome weak dove who swoons at your handsome face.”

Kaigan fingered the scar that zigzagged across his left eyebrow and cheek.  It wasn’t pretty, but it never deterred women from seeking his advances.  In fact, it seemed to encourage them.

Esh raised a gloved hand and mimicked holding a knife.  “Lorie will be sadly disappointed.  Perhaps there will be some entertainment for us after all.”  He brought his fist down hard, pretending to stab himself in the chest.

Kaigan laughed with his men, but Esh’s observation held a ring of truth.  Lorie would be a problem.  Already was a problem.  The raven-haired beauty knew there was no future in bedding the prince of Maajnara other than as concubine and, though it was common practice among his people, he hoped he wouldn’t require that after tonight.  When he had informed her of the treaty and arranged marriage, she threw a fit, ranting and screaming.  Lorie would definitely be a problem.

Why couldn’t women accept their fate in this world, like father’s collection?  His father maintained a rather modest harem, modest compared to previous Masters.  Twenty-three women, their sole purpose to please the Master of Maajnara.  Yet, none replaced his mother, may the Goddess keep her.  He wondered how his father handled the women’s jealousies, for surely, among such an array of personalities, he had dealt with at least one whose ambition dictated more than service to her Master.  (remember to deal with Koroll’s harem issue later w/Kaigan)

Kaigan would find Lorie a good husband, one with rank and privilege.  She’d want for nothing, except perhaps for Kaigan himself.  He’d handle it.  Nothing would spoil his last night as a single man or his future as a dutiful husband to Princess Darhna, his intended, a woman to whom he’d never been officially introduced.  He knew of her.  Reports from the Maajnaran ambassador, visiting dignitaries, even spies, all agreed: she was comely, with flaming red hair and flashing green eye.

His marriage on the morrow sealed a treaty between the two largest lands in the Known World – his arid Maajnara and the verdant fields and forests of Faalnara – kingdoms that had been warring so long, there remained no ballads of peace between them.  So long in fact, few histories survived to tell the tales and those that did were considered myth and fancy.

This binding would bring peace at long last.

He rotated his shoulders to release the tension from the long ride and sent a prayer to the Chat Ranj all would go well and his marriage would more be more than one of convenience.  That was certainly something to smile about.

“See?”  Esh teased.  “Tomorrow night is too far away.”

Pink and purple rays streamed from the horizon where the Sun God sought rest, softening the cliffs’ sharp edges.  Kaigan led his men through rocky plains, close to the mountain base.  Stunted trees and spiky cactus dotted this side of the range, but further north, past the lower peaks, the slope increased with jagged crags and sparse vegetation.

Kaigan scrutinized the mountains edge.  Beyond that, lived men who weren’t men, so the legends said.  Kaigan never believed in such superstition, but he knew men sent there to fight the mountain bandits never returned.  It was as if the mountains swallowed them, spitting out rock, ash, and smoke.

He nudged his gray to a stop and held up his fist.  The soldiers halted.  They were less than an hour’s ride from Koroll’s camp.  At least one scout should have returned by now.  He should have seen firelight on the horizon, but all he could make out were black specks circling in the distance.  He slid his sword from the sheath at his back.  His men quietly followed suit.