Cursed: Traitor's Trail

Chapter 6 part 1

CHAPTER 6

The sand billowed across the steppes, softer now, but rushing off to some superior destination, leaving everything behind caked in filth. At least he could raise his facecloth and still see his own appendages.

It remained no weather for riding out, let alone flight. The sky turned brown and would remain so for days, until everything settled. Had Bane managed in his quest? The distinct possibility that the storm overtook him and he lay injured or worse somewhere weighed heavily on Jaob's mind. Demon cursed stubborn fool.

Finally, giving up his vigilant watch of the north, the direction of Bane's travels, he turned. Time pressed him to do something besides pace and worry. A bright movement in the distance caught his eye, he stilled and watched. It rose into the air and then arced like a wounded bird before blinking out.

An arrow on fire.

A dream, or a fever, for certain. He pressed his hand to his cheek, nothing felt out of order. His eyes surely deceived him. Ten years he waited for such a mark, a signal that some trace of what he sought existed. He nearly gave up hope. Ten years.

Another arrow flared, arced and then went out. No denying this second one. Anticipation grasped it's bony fingers into him with a thrill he couldn't caution himself out of. Too soon for such hope. And yet..

A smatter of reality struck him, how did the messenger trace him to New Hope? And through the storm? Jaob studied the empty village. No other Magi noticed, all still safe inside their shelters. Only chance allowed him to see it at all through the dust. Was this the first attempt? Or had the messenger signaled in vain for hours? Would he be waiting still when Jaob found him? After so much trouble to give the signal he wouldn't just give up contact, would he?

“Jaob!” A feminine voice caught his attention.

He flinched, drawn from his pondering.

He turned to find Kierra several mouse-lengths away, short blond hair whipped across her face; her violet eyes flashed.

“The healing tent is down. The girl is trapped in there.”

Jaob breathed a sigh. The tent concerned her, not his mystery. He preferred not to have to explain what the signal meant—or at least what he thought it meant. It might not even be connected to what he thought at all. He snorted to himself, right. Some cursed crazy fool just burned arrows on the steppes for amusement.

Kierra remained where she stood, scowling in his direction. Clearly, she expected him to do something about her predicament.

He grunted, restlessness burning through his soul as thoroughly as the curiosity of moments ago. His time depended on another's patience, but he refused to share his quest. Not yet.

She frowned, a furrow forming on her forehead; he would not escape her until she was satisfied. “Jaob!” she growled.

He sighed in the face of her wrath. Kierra proved a tenacious opponent in a battle of wills, she wanted her tent repaired, and apparently felt it his duty to see to it.

He left the watch tower reluctantly, calling at the entrance of two tents as he passed their flaps and speaking toe men within.

The healing tent had done more than simply tip over, as he expected; the lattice cracked before it toppled, which surprised him. The tent formed the largest structure in the village, he himself ensured the construction used bone, instead of twigs, to give it more support.

“Look at this...,” Tabak called when they extracted the girl, passing her to Kierra to tend. He had paced and studied the sight, but then crouched down, deep in thought. Jaob walked over and looked where he indicated. The white lattice work lay in shambles. Tabak handed him a section, holes riddled the bone. It was cracked and, in some places, broken where the stiff strips of leather once bound the pieces together.

“What do you suppose caused that?” Lon asked.

Tabak moved away from them and then swiftly knelt again, drawing his dagger, and skewered something, lifting its squirming white body into the air.

“A termite?" Jaob exclaimed. "I thought they only existed in the forest kingdoms.”

Lon frowned at the insect and flicked it, setting it off on a thrashing tangent. “I didn't think that they existed at all. Are they good to eat?” He plucked the blade from the first man and made a show of pretending to consume the squirming beast.

Tabak chucked, and Jaob bit his tongue. He was pleased that his people were happy, even at a cursed inconvenient time.

“We can mind our stomachs later,” he admonished, hoping he did not sound as testy as he felt. “For now, let's get Kierra a functioning tent.”

“But if these fellows eat bone, what is safe to use?” Lon picked up another broken piece of bone and studied it.

Jaob sighed inwardly; what indeed? This would be no fast repair. He glanced southward; the information would have to wait. He only hoped the man who carried it possessed enough patience.