Abased - The Exiled Warrior

Chapter 4.1 - History

Alam looked at the fading stars as he strolled a lazy circle around the sleeping forms of Tajar and Clarisai. Ever since clearing the forest the previous day, and entering the vast grasslands of the Endless Plains, the winds had turned from the south, bringing with them the final days of warmth before winter spread it thick blanket over the Plains.

Though he did not know where he was born, the Plains were where Alam had spent his life. He loved the openness and emptiness of the land. Not only did the world seem so much larger on the Plains than in the forest, but it also seemed more peaceful. He also loved the way the vastness of The Plains invited humility by forcing him to consider his own smallness in the face of a world that was limitless in every direction.

As often happened during his watch at night his mind turned to Shaleh.

I wonder if she's married to Nurlan yet.

Surely.

But things can happen. Plans can change. Nothing is definite in this world. Perhaps as she got to know him she refused him and is back home with her parents.

Not likely, there's nothing to object to in Nurlan.

Except he's older than her by maybe ten years, and is so serious.

He's also a nobleman from the most powerful clan on The Plains. And a seasoned warrior. And is wise and kind.

Alam shook his head.

"What am I doing?" he muttered aloud to himself. "Why am I tormenting myself? Of course they're married. Tajar is right, the sooner I put her out of my mind, the better."

If he died in battle she could remarry.

Stop it.

The sound of movement shocked him out of his internal debate. Footsteps, to the north. He peered into the darkness, but could see nothing.

He trotted over to Tajar and Clarisai and shook their shoulders.

"Wake up," he whispered. "Someone is approaching."

Both of them sprang up. Tajar grabbed his bow and restrung it. Alam roused the fire by placing dry pine needles and cones on it. As the light sprang up it illuminated a large figure striding towards them with a dead goat on it's back.

"Gretch," Tajar groaned. "I thought we had lost him."

"It would not be possible for you to evade me, however hard you tried." Gretch dumped the mountain goat near the fire.

"I'm going back to sleep," Tajar grumbled as he unstrung his bow, carefully stowed it in his oilskin bag, and then threw himself under his blankets.

"How did you find us?" asked Clarisai. "Not only is it dark, but we have been travelling with the aid of horses."

"Two horses leave a trail so obvious that even Tajar could follow," Gretch answered. "As to speed, Alam's broken ribs means your pace is slow." Gretch pulled a knife out from his belt and began skinning the goat.

By the time the sun was risen all four of the travelers were dressed and stuffed full of fresh meat. Tajar's had said nothing more than grunts since waking up. His face was flat and lifeless.

"Are you well?" Alam asked him quietly while Gretch was out of earshot, burying the goat's skin away from their camp.

"I'm fine," Tajar did not meet Alam's eyes.

"You don't seem fine."

Tajar tied up his blankets and moved towards his horse and away from Clarisai. Alam followed.