Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 29

The forced march back to the banks of the river proved easier than the boys expected.

Pleasantly, surprisingly easier.

Meaningful looks were exchanged by Malithas and Salidon while they walked. Dathion imagined the expressions to be like those shared between torturers, if their quarry smiled rather than wailed when tormented. Dathion noticed unreasonable increases in pace at times. Regardless, even they proved manageable, with just a slight increase in the rate and heaviness of his breathing.

"Salidon, I don't think there's any way to skirt around it. The boys are becoming fit."

"I believe you're right, Malithas. Even if they cannot be considered battle hardened, they're certainly becoming travel hardened. Malithas, are you panting?"

"Trick of the wind, Salidon."

After Salidon's words, Dathion became suspicious of Malithas making a conscious effort to keep his breathing slow and steady.

*****

Once they reached the river, Dathion was reminded of the Palians still in their company. For many miles they had trailed behind the Asillians, remaining silent. As for the horses, Asheron had been a magnet for Dathion's heart and hands during their journey. He felt certain that the strength rippling through the flanks of the magnificent animal, had become his during their march. Every time he reunited with Asheron, memories of his parents brought both comfort and pain.

As much as he felt honored by the charge given him by his father, seeds of doubt always plagued him. Was this an important missive for the benefit of all Asillia, or simply an excuse for his father to be rid of him? Was it a way for his father to force Dathion to become world-wise, or fitter? Did his father think of him as too soft? But then, what of the pain he had seen in his father's eyes when they had left? Malithas and Jerodai had been sent to protect him, but Dathion could never shake the feeling that they had been sent to their probable deaths.

Did his father know of the assassin who had found them in Cretia?

Dathion felt like he was making this journey not just beyond the lands of Asillia, but from boy to man. He had already noticed a subtle difference in the way Malithas and Salidon regarded him.

He dared to believe he saw respect growing in their eyes.

Once they reached the river, the Palians performed the same curious ritual as when they had left it. They refilled their skins, speaking once more in their flowing tongue. They kissed the tips of their fingers, before presenting them in the direction of the water. From Artallah through to the very last Storm Dancer, all showed the water the same respect as Asillians would their gods.

"Well, my friends, normally leaving water would fill me with the greatest sadness of the day. This time, its significance pales next to another."

Artallah offered his hand to each of the Asillians in turn, saving Dathion until last. When Artallah came to him, Dathion performed a very credible bow in the way of the Palians, drawing warm laughter and a clasp of his shoulder from Artallah.

"Young prince, based on your mastery of our customs, I predict your rise as a formidable diplomat. You will forever be welcomed as a friend in Palia, at least while it remains under my reign."

The Palians mounted. Even the emotionless Storm Dancers spared rare waves for the Asillians as they wheeled their horses to face the desert. Once they had turned their backs, only Artallah looked back - just once - before the first screen of trees shrouded them from view. The thunder of their hooves quickly retreated into a distant drumming, eventually swallowed by an empty silence.