Read The Crystals of Tlalli: Awakened Affinities Page 26

a pawn of the Queen or if he would side with them. Nab told the man he had his own fears about the Nation and where it was headed. He voiced his view that his brother should be found and put on the throne as soon as possible. Though his mother would not allow his brother to just walk in and claim the throne, not now that she had had a taste of power. Nab could see she would want to keep control.

  “Your brother has always been a weak boy and now his is a weak man. Weak in that he loves his drink and women to much to pay attention to anything around him that matters.” Master Longmark looked pained as he said the words. Nab thought about what to say to this instead of just reacting. He had to be cool headed and weigh his words carefully. His father had thought him; a general never goes into battle in a rage. He had to assess the battlefield, find his opponent’s weaknesses then strike. The old man was speaking what he truly believed. Was what he said true? Was his brother a drunk? To Nab’s surprise he found he didn’t know his brother at all. Even growing up they had had separate tutors and schools. He had idolized his brother as a bigger than life hero as a boy. Now was not the time to humor old hero worship. Now he had to be a man and make a man’s decisions.

  “I think we should find him nonetheless. I want to see for myself that he is what you say. Perhaps he just needs someone to jerk him back from the brink so to speak.” Nab looked his old tutor in the eye calmly as he said the words.

  “We can do this. Maybe it will be for the best for you to see for yourself his current state of disgrace.” His tutor looked tired, he shook his head. Then straightened as though coming to a decision.

  “Nabarun we need you. The Nation needs you. We have a mob of people that are out of control. This mob needs a leader to form it into a force to be reckoned with. We need you to be that leader.” His hands shock, his chin jutted out. Nab could see the stress in the man.

  “Master Longmark, I would be honored to be the General of this resistance you speak of. I will not be your king. Let us be clear about that. My brother is the rightful heir, and until it is proven to me that he cannot fulfill is birthright, he will be king.” Nab touched his tutors arm and squeezed it. The old man nodded.

  “We will be in touch through the boy Sid. He is a poor boy who is recently orphaned. I have been looking after him. Our communiqués will be in code. Remember the old Tappish code I thought you? That’s what we will use. No one these days know it but you and me.”

  “I remember the boy. Are you sure about the code?”

  “Yes, I am a historian. It has been out of use for over a thousand years. I learned it as a whim when I was a boy. Later when I was at University I used it as my own shorthand. I thought it to you when you had that fever as a boy. It was our little game we played as you recovered.”

  Nab smiled at the memory. “Yes I remember that time well. Though I may be a little rusty at the code, I’m sure it will come back to me.”

  They talked on into the night in hushed voices. Nab thought about all that was said. He had to find his brother and find out if he was able to assume the throne. A king needed to be strong, disciplined, and fair when it counted. The old man talked as though the resistance wanted him to be king. That just wouldn’t do. Nab knew how to be a General, he knew little about trade and diplomacy. He was content to be the leader of the military and let his brother be king as he had been trained to do since birth. Dawn was peeking hesitantly over the tops of the rugged mountains when the meeting with his tutor concluded.

  15 – Clouded Vision

  The air was dry and held the sharp smell of dry earth, Moyo glided on a thermal over the wastelands, looking at the landscape for any sign of activity. The dream visions had led him here, and his feeling of anticipation was almost unbearable. Flying here over this barren land near the Kahsha Nations border was risky. He didn’t want to be seen here. Moyo didn’t know how his presence would be construed, the son of an overthrown leader far away from his home. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself yet here he was near the Kahsha Nation boarder, flying about looking for a girl who may have fallen to this world from another. Yeah discreet!

  The dream a week ago had woken Moyo in a state of panic his heart racing, the dreams intensity seemed to be getting more urgent. It had been so clear. The same dream every night since he had started on this damned quest to find the girl in the vortex of his subconscious. He had been so sure the dream would lead him to the place where the girl had come into this world that he had set out with high hopes. Now it was several weeks later and still no sign of the girl. Then on the ground something fluttered. Moyo banked to the left and circled around for a better look closer to the ground. The sun was getting higher in the sky and the heat was making the air turbulent. He would have to walk soon or climb to a higher altitude. Moyo flew back over the area, just when he was about to give up and continue on he saw a flutter of white again. Like a page in a book, or a scrap of cloth, what ever it was, it was behind that dune ahead. Moyo back winged and landed.

  He reached the spot and looked around. This was so frustrating. Then the air stirred again and something fluttered. Moyo turned to the sound of it and saw a book open with the pages fluttering in the light gusts of air. He bent down and picked it up. The feeling he got from the book took his breath away. The girl had touched this book! It was written in a language he did not recognize; on some of the pages there were pictures of places and things he had never seen on this world. He shut the book and put it in his pouch. Moyo was excited now. He was close!

  Sound sometimes travels in peculiar ways in the wasteland. Moyo thought he heard voices. He cocked his head and listened, but the sound was gone. He spread his wings and launched into the air and was caught instantly by a thermal and thrown violently into the air. He fought to get control of his flight, his wings and shoulders hurt like fire by the time he stopped his tumble into the sky. He was breathless when he heard the voices again, the sound was not loud enough to make out what was being said but he thought he could determine the direction it came from. He climbed away from the hard ground to a better more cruise able altitude. He opened his wings and glided on the air as he listened for the voices again. It seemed to be coming from a distance away by the cliffs to the right. When he got closer to the cliffs he saw the marked path and felt he was on the right track. The day was heating up and the air was moving in unpredictable ways near the cliff. Moyo was caught in a sudden violent gust and snapped his wings tight to his body in an attempt to fall below the swirl of air. He was too close to the cliff and opened his wings in instinct to power away from the sharp rocks and was buffeted into a rock column. The sharp pain in his foot was the only indication that he had hit. He landed rather less gracefully than he would have liked on the ground at the base of the offending column. He looked at his foot and shook his head. Stupid mistakes can end this quest he admonished. Blood ran down his ankle and into his soft leather shoes. Moyo examined the wound and decided it wasn’t too bad. He mopped the blood off and bandaged the ankle with supplies from his pack slipping his wet shoe back on carefully. The sound of an explosion got his immediate attention.

  Moyo looked around but could not see any evidence of smoke in the air. Magic then. The path led up toward the Kahshian Affinity Caves. Not many knew of the caves outside of the Shaman who was entrusted with it. His father had been one of the trusted few that knew of it and its location and how significant it was to the affinities of the world. Moyo had found out about the caves by reading his fathers journals Master LeaNic had given him. He limped over to the path and made his way up cautiously. He used his cloaking rune and walked as softly as he could with his injured foot. The voices were clearer now. They were male voices and as Moyo peeked over the edge of the path up to the men. He could clearly see one was dressed in elegant cloths with runes embroidered into the hem of the long cloak he wore. Moyo took him for a mage. The others were dressed more commonly like thugs. The well-dressed one was yelling at the others.

  “Can’t you morons do anything ri
ght? Morick! I’m talking to you! Get out of the way or you will be fried.” There were three men standing off to the side watching, they laughed at Morick’s expense. The mage was a pushy little man with an attitude. The man in front of the door moved quickly out of the way with a surly glare at the mage.

  “Stop yelling at me Toren!” The little man yelled back. Either he had a death wish or he wasn’t bright. Moyo grinned waiting to see what would happen next.

  “Morick better not make him mad. He’ll turn you into a rock. Oh wait that might be an improvement.” One of the men said, the others laughed.

  Then Toren gestured and another explosion sounded. He was trying to force the magically sealed doors of the cave open. Moyo ducked down and listened. After a few more attempts the mage decided it was a waste of time. With Moyo’s good Miwa vision, which was three times as good as a normal human, he could see the mage was wet with sweat. Moyo didn’t doubt it dressed as he was in the heavy dress robes and over robe. This may be autumn but it was still hot in the wastelands.

  “Morick come over here.” Toren waved to the man to come over. The slightly