Hopefully you all like it!
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CHAPTER TWO
Karson stayed true to his promise. Five days after his arrival, Dara was working in her garden when he appeared, jumping out of the oak tree’s branches. Dara startled and then glared. “I thought you left.”
“Nope. Just went off like you suggested and found rent elsewhere.”
“You mean, you are staying in town?” Dara questioned, bewildered.
“Yes. I have to sleep somewhere,” Karson replied, stroking Lucky’s fur. Dara returned to her work, furious. Karson smirked at her bent backside and reddening face. “Does this anger you?”
“Of course it does!” Dara snapped. “You, a Native, are allowed into their midst while me, a Valerian, is not. It’s disgusting.”
“You are prejudice?” Karson wondered with sudden interest.
“Only against nosy Native’s.”
Karson chuckled. “So, are you up to training today?”
“I need no training from a Native,” she sneered, returning to hoeing her garden. Karson sighed deeply. Lucky howled and both looked up. Karson tipped his head and whispered. “Somebody’s coming.” And with that, he was scrambling up the oak tree and disappearing into the foliage. Dara quickly straightened her dress, struggling to calm her drumming heart. Nobody has visited…ever! Her body gave a violent shudder when through the trees came a wagon supporting none other then the preacher, Father Brian. Dara breathed easier, and Karson noticed her body relax from where he perched in the tree, realizing that this man was somebody she trusted. “Father Brian!” Dara called out, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.
“Dara,” Father Brian greeted. “I came to provide you with more refreshments. It has been almost a week since you last came for food.”
“I didn’t want to bother you. Besides, it’s just me here,” Dara lied swiftly, suddenly conscious of Karson watching this little display.
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to starve out here, dear, so I promise to come at least once a week with food. Besides, I know how stubborn you are. You wouldn’t ask for help, even if you were dying,” Father Brian teased.
“Oh, thank you, Father.” she replied, taking the basket full with fresh bread, fruits, and vegetables from him.
“Looks like your garden could use some help,” Father Brian observed with a grin.
“Indeed, if rain would fall,” Dara sighed.
Father Brian looked to the sky. “Oh, sorry, I must run, my dear. It is almost noon. I have to meet with the McCherrin’s to discuss a visitor who they have offered shelter too. Say that he’s a Native. Peculiar thing, isn’t it? A Native seeking shelter during this time.”
“Very odd, indeed,” Dara replied swiftly.
“Well, best be off. You take care now, Dara,” Father Brian called as he boarded his wagon.
“Don’t worry about me, Father. I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can,” Father Brian said with a wink before riding off. Once he was gone, Karson leaped from his hiding place and gazed at Dara, who shook with anger. “You’re staying with the McCherrin’s? The mayor of this god-forsaken place.”
“What better place to learn and observe then from the main-man’s house,” Karson replied with a smug smile, pleased with his cleverness. “Aren’t I smart?’
“Not smart, but very, very stupid.”
“Why?”
“Because if they find out who you are, then you could be executed or tortured to discover the plans of your people?
“Who am I, but a common Native?”
“Ha!” Dara shook her head. “I’m sure on one thing and that is, that you are not a commoner.”
“Very observant of you, Dara,” he praised, and Dara sneered, making Karson chuckle.
“All right, ready for training now?” Karson wondered, shifting from one foot to another in an anxious behavior as if at one moment, he will run off just for the fun of running.
“Nope, sorry,” Dara answered and continued to her garden.
“Fine. But if you wish to join me, I’ll be at the pond,” he said with a shrug and a smile, before taking off at a steady jog along the path to her pond. She watched his figure disappear and spotted Lucky looking after him with longing. Dara sighed. “Go on with you,” she grumbled. Lucky didn’t need any more reassurance then that and with a bark, he ran off to catch up with Karson.
Dara was in her cottage, eating a lunch of an apple and some buttered bread. Her mind was shifting from one side to another. Part of her wished to join Karson and train again. At the young age of seven, she had started learning to use a bow-and-arrow and at the age of nine, she was talented with daggers. But her training never furthered for the following year was when disaster struck with a force of a thousand armies, destroying all that she had held dear. She trembled, holding the memories at bay, remembering how horrible war could be and that part of her kept her far away from Karson. War was what brought her family to ruin and war is what would keep her safe from all that could bring her into light.
But the other part seemed stronger as she looked out the one window in her cottage and gazed out over the woods and down the hill to where she knew Karson waited. She knew Lucky was there as well and she missed her lone companion. Karson and his tribe brewed trouble. But, she also knew her place amongst his people.
She was a Valerian—the sole protector of the Native crown and the NewComers’ ally. She was the last Valerian alive, the lone competitor against King Theo, the tyrant and leader of the Aryans’. She knew what she must do but hated having to do it. Life was so much simpler out here in the country of merchants and poor, modest people. Even if she wasn’t welcome because of her peculiar tawny eyes and vibrant, red hair. She was stuck in the middle. An outsider and considered a coward by the Native’s. Now, this Native Karson shows up with a mission to redeem herself. To return herself to the glory light and bring her family up from the shadows. It had been over six years since her chosen life of exile and, by Karson’s words, six years of Luxion engaged in a never-ending battle.
With a deep breath, she quickly gathered half of a loaf of bread and two apples, wrapping them into the belt at her waist. Pulling her hair into a comfortable bun at the base of her neck, she was off down the path to the pond and to where her destiny awaited.
When she reached the pond, she saw Karson lazing about beside it’s lapping waters, Lucky chasing a butterfly around. She was surprised to hear him talking to Lucky. “What do you think, boy?” Karson wondered out loud. “Should I stay or should I leave her be? It’s obvious she won’t be persuaded but my tribe will hold it against me for the rest of my days if I don’t return with her in tow. And Luxion will go into ruin without her.”
“Talking to animals, now?” Dara called out, notifying Karson of her arrival.
He sat up with a shocked expression. “You came?” Dara nodded as Lucky ran to meet her, barking joyfully. “Curious, I see?” Karson added.
“Yes,” Dara answered truthfully.
Karson smiled. “I hoped you would come. There is so much to do in such little time.”
“But first, you must eat.” Dara presented him with the meal of bread and apples. Karson thanked her before throwing an apple to Lucky, who caught it in the air and laid down to gnaw on it. Then, he bit into the bread himself. “So, what will you teach me?” Dara questioned, sitting beside him.
“Only what you wish to learn.”
“Well, father taught me the art of the bow-and-arrow and I’m useful with daggers but that is all.”
“So, you have much to learn,” Karson smirked, and Dara glowered. She picked at the brown grass at her feet and chewed her lip. She was anxious, Karson could see. He noticed her toned arms, however, and saw that she wasn’t without strength. Her face was imprinted with premature lines along her brow but her mouth held no laugh-lines, making it clear to Karson that her life was nothing but hardships and disappointments. “Dara,” he began. “I’m not pressuring you into this. I want you to join this by your own free will.”
“I have no choice, though,” Dara whispered sorrowfully. “If what you told me is true, the Natives and NewComers, who haven’t been bribed by the crown, are in danger. If what you say is true, than I must do my part to protect my people.”
“Spoken like a true Valerian,” Karson complemented, and Dara nodded, wary.
“I am not a strong as I used to be. You will have to be patient with me.” Dara continued. He could see how hard it was for her to submission herself to him.
“I won’t push you too hard,” he assured her with a coy smile. “But before you learn any new tricks, you must get back into shape.”
Dara groaned and fell back onto her back. “Must we start today? It was hard enough for me to ask you for help but now you torment me with ideas of work and exercise?” Dara moaned in mock agony, and Karson grinned widely, flashing unnaturally white teeth.
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” He rolled his shoulders and stood. Dara watched him stretch. He bent at the waist and laid his palms flat on the earth towards his toes and then, jumped about like a boxer in the ring, preparing for a fight. He rolled his head on his neck and smiled again. “Come on.” He inclined for her to get up and stretch as well. She shook her head, but stood. She too bent at the waist but wasn’t nearly as flexible as Karson and could barely reach her toes, let alone touch the ground with flat palms. Karson came up behind her and pressed on her lower back, pushing her until her palms touched the earth. She shrieked but felt her muscles stretch with a painful, yet soothing pull. “Warriors are not just strong but flexible as well. They must be able to bend and snap at will to avoid swords and arrows.”
“Wisely said,” Dara grunted from where she stood, bent over. Karson released her and she sprang up like a blade of grass released from its occupant’s hold. Dara loosened her muscles, shaking her limbs as though they were made of jelly. She cracked her neck and then looked at Karson. “All right,” he shrugged his shoulders, loosening his own muscles. “We will start with one mile and work up from there.”
“A mile?” Dara looked incredulously at him. “Are you crazy?”
“You want to get into shape, don’t you?” Karson asked her with raised eyebrows.
“Well yeah, but not so quickly.” Dara tried frantically to change his mind but it was no use. Karson was set in his ways and Dara discovered him to be just as stubborn as she was in certain areas. “Let’s go.” He waved his hand and took off at an easy lope. Dara ran after him and caught up easily. They jogged side-by-side for the first quarter mile, using a path made by Dara long ago when she first moved there. It trailed off in the opposite direction of town so they had little fear of being seen.
But soon, Dara huffed and puffed, her calves and thighs aching. Her chest was shot through with pain, and by the half-mile mark, she was dead on her feet. She finally had to stop, and Karson paused, jogging in place as she panted on the side of the dirt road. “Come on,” he shouted after only a minute’s rest, taking off again. Dara groaned but pressed forward, struggling to catch up this time.
By the three-quarter mark, Dara was well behind by at least two yards. She kept her vision locked on Karson and used this as motivation. She wouldn’t stray less then two yards behind, keeping a nice easy pace. She listened to her breathing as it left her mouth and then came crawling back, filling her lungs. It was a soothing sound and with this, she was able to keep a rhythm. Breathe in. Step. Breathe out. Step.
Karson peeked back at her as they neared the end. She moved with sluggish movements and her head was down, eyes trained at her boots. He looked forward again, not daring to stop again when they were so close. He caught sight of the forth marker and pressed forward. He had marked out the trail with scrapes of bright-red cloth two days before, hoping that Dara would agree. His preparedness had paid off and with a smile, picked up the pace.
Karson crossed the forth marker and, a minute later, Dara followed, panting like a sick dog. Karson’s breathing was even and he sipped from a leather canteen at his waist. “Want some?” Karson offered. Dara shook her head, her breathing too unstable to drink just yet. He took another long sip and watched Dara over the cap. She was hunched over, eyes closed and knees shaking. Her back trembled from fatigue and sweat stains shown all over her back in patches and under her arms. Maybe I pushed her too hard for the first day, Karson wondered, suddenly worried. “Sure you are okay?” Karson neared her, and Dara nodded hurriedly, keeping her head down towards her knees. If she hurled, he knew that it was the first sign of over-all exhaustion and that meant he had definitely pushed her too hard. He waited, watching her apprehensively but she held strong and finally, her breathing subsided and she was able to drink. She was smart and only took small sips, knowing they had a long walk back.
When she handed the canteen back to Karson, her knees buckled and she staggered. Karson reached out but she steadied herself on her own. “Sure you can make the walk back?” he asked, concerned.
“Yes,” she gasped and started walking. Karson caught up and stayed by her side, keeping the pace slow and steady.
They reached the pond fifteen minutes later, both silent. Karson was wary of Dara. She was pouring sweat from every pore in her body and her eyes flickered, a sign of someone about to faint. He kept close to her but she never collapsed, like he feared she would. Instead, she kept the pace a quick walk, pushing herself far too much for one day.
At the pond, she finally did fall to the earth in a heap but that was in her own control. She laid, her chest heaving. Lucky licked her face, wrinkling his nose when he tasted sweat. Karson chuckled softly. She rolled onto her back and sighed. “Tomorrow, I wear a tunic and leggings.”
Karson looked at her, bewildered. “But you ran fine in your dress.”
“I could run better in leggings,” Dara answered, and Karson shrugged, not bothering to argue with her.
“Is this all we are doing today?” Dara wondered after a brief pause.
“Only if you are up to it. I was going to have you go swimming for while to loosen your muscles but you look dead.”
“No, a swim sounds heavenly.” Dara replied, sitting up. Her breathing was back to normal and her hair was falling out of its usual bun, vibrant red tendrils framing her ruddy face. Karson’s cheeks were rosy and sweat-streaked curls stuck to his forehead. He pulled them away and proceeded to unlace his leather shoes. Dara followed his example and removed her boots and socks, placing them far from the water’s edge.
When she glanced up, she saw Karson removing his tunic and she quickly averted her gaze. What is he doing? she thought frantically, sneaking a peek up at him. His back was to her and she saw that his tunic was gone, stripped from him. He stood in his brown trousers and moved his head from side-to-side. She felt herself look at his back, muscled and golden-brown in color as if he had dipped himself into a tub of butter then rolled in brown-sugar. But she could see by the ribs showing through his back that the lack of food had weakened him. Hopefully Father Brian stays true to his word and brings food every week because I now I have another mouth to feed she thought.
When she looked back up, something caught her eye. At the base of his neck was a glint of black. She narrowed her eyes to better see it and saw that it was a tattoo. Standing, she could see that it was in the shape of a water beetle, it’s wings spread. She shook her head knowingly. It was the symbol of his tribe—the Water Tribe. She should have known that out of all the Native tribes, it would be Ranashi’s that would send for her. She walked to stand beside him and said off-handily. “So, how is Ranashi?” Karson jolted and looked at her with surprise. “Tattoo,” Dara explained, pointing to the back of his neck.
Karson sighed deeply. “Forgot about that.”
“How is she?”
“Ranashi’s fine. I guess you already know that she sent me to you.”
“Yes.”
“Figures. You are too perceptive for your own good,” Karson teased before taking a flying leap and landing right into the middle of the pond, splashing Dara with water. She squealed and stumbled backwards. Karson bobbed in the middle of the pond, grinning widely, the sun reflecting off of his teeth. “Jump in, Dara. The water’s good after a run.” Dara shook her head and waded in like a proper lady until it reached her waist. The water was cold, forcing shudders to ripple through her body. Karson swam towards her and stood, the water reaching to almost his armpits. “You cold?”
She nodded, teeth chattering. “H-how c-can y-you s-s-stand it?”
He shrugged. “Matter of tolerance, I guess.” Dara glowered and dunked herself fully below the water. Karson gazed at her, open-mouthed as she surfaced.
“Matter of tolerance, huh?” She shook her head, sprinkling him with water as she dove towards the middle of the pond, Karson on her heels.
Back at the cottage, Karson and Dara stumbled into the house, their clothes still dripping from the swim. Lucky trailed behind, catching droplets of water as they fell from their bodies. Karson collapsed in the nearest chair, holding his one dry piece of clothing—his tunic—as Dara moved about, grabbing a pot from underneath the counter. Wobbling towards the door, she said. “Off to get water. Could you start a fire in the hearth for me?” Karson nodded, standing. “Wood’s out back, staked up.” And with that, she was off.
At the well, she pumped water into the pot until it was three-fourths full. Her arms trembled as she carried the weight of the copper pot. Meanwhile, Karson set about carrying stacks of logs into the cottage and setting them to fire in the hearth. Dara hated starting a fire in this unbearable heat but she knew that they couldn’t eat buttered bread and raw apples every day. She had to make food that would sustain them.
She crossed the doorway, spilling some water onto poor Lucky, who shook his head and shrank away from the sight of Dara struggling to keep the pot in her hands. Karson saw her and quickly took the pot from her arms, lifting it with ease and placing it over the fire, his back muscles taunt, his arm muscles straining with the weight. “Thanks,” Dara replied breathlessly, wiping her brow.
“No problem,” Karson answered, stepping away from the hearth. While she waited for the water to boil, she pulled out her smaller cooking knife and started slicing away at the carrots and celery from Father Brian. “Can I help?” Karson offered, and Dara handed him half of a ham Father Brian had given her the week before.
“Can you chop that up to put into the stew?”
“You’re making stew?” Karson took the butcher’s knife she handed him and started slicing the meat with precision.
“Yes. Do you not like stew?”
“No, but you are making it how my mother used to,” Karson remarked softly, and Dara looked up from her chopping. By his tone of voice, she gained that his mother had passed on. But, she couldn’t say anything, in fear that it would embarrass him. Then, she decided to try something. I’m sorry, she thought loudly inside of her head, and Karson burst into laughter. His voice boomed in the small cottage, ringing like the thunder of horses’ hooves. It was a pleasant sound that made her almost smile. “You could have said it out loud, you know,” he said once his laughter had subsided.
“I know but I was afraid for your privacy.”
“So, shouting your thoughts to me seemed like a better idea?” Karson wondered with raised eyebrows, his green-tinged eyes twinkling.
“Yes,” Dara defended but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Karson saw this and wondered why does this girl not smile more? But he was wary to ask. Her moods were too unpredictable to be open with her just yet.
Once the water began to boil, Dara dumped in a whole number of spices, including the bone from the ham. “Why, you do this exactly the same way as my mother?” Karson commented.
“I suppose that’s because I grew up with your tribe. The Valerians and the Water Tribe were very close. Mother used to say that her and Ranashi were like sisters.”
“I heard the same tale,” Karson mused thoughtfully. Dara turned back to the pot, slowly adding chopped carrots and celery. Once they were all in the pot, Dara asked Karson to bring her the plate of ham. Once that was dumped in, she went about cleaning up. As she scrubbed the counter, Karson eased into one of the chairs. She heard his wet trousers rub against the chair and said, “You should change into drier clothes.”
“I have none,” Karson said simply.
Dara spun to face him. “Well, then I will spin you some.”
“Oh, no, Dara. Please, I will manage,” Karson assured her, surprised by her sudden hospitality.
“Come here.” She ignored his pleading, and he walked over, defeated. She quickly took his measurements and mentally memorized them. After, she stepped back and dug around in an old wooden box. Karson peered over her shoulder to see the symbols of his tribe engraved on almost every surface. Mostly it was of the sacred water beetle, the same as the one tattooed on his neck. But there were other’s as well. Like the wavy pattern for the sea and boats with sails drawn. “This is a Native trunk, no doubt?”
“Very perceptive of you,” Dara said, standing and baring a pair of trousers. “They may be a bit big but they will do until I make you a new pair.”
Karson backed away. “I couldn’t.” He could see that the purple stitching in what appeared to be simple trousers and knew that they had been her father’s “These are special to you.”
“Yes and I trust you to take care of them.” She threw them to him, and he caught them, feeling the woven-in silk in the simple cotton pattern. They were the trousers of a famous warrior. Of a great and noble man and once a loving father. The man who wore these pants left a lineage behind him of glory and battle. Christopher Valerian was the greatest warrior in all of Luxion and Karson was going to be wearing his trousers.
As he retreated to the back room where Dara’s bedroom was, Dara continued cleaning. When he emerged, Dara had been right in her assumption. Her father had been a taller man; almost seven feet tall and Karson had to roll the waistband so not to trip. They were baggy around the waist as well. They would have fit around the waist if Karson hadn’t starved himself, Dara thought, pulling the pot from the stove. Karson scowled at her and her cheeks flared innocently. “I’m sorry. I’ll have to be more careful to keep my thoughts to myself.” Karson didn’t reply but proceeded to sit at the rounded table. She filled a bowl for Karson and one for herself. She watched as he swallowed the soup by the mouthful, oblivious to the scorching heat. “Does it not burn your throat?” Dara tilted her head to one side.
“Not really. Sometimes hunger overpowers pain,” Karson replied with a smirk before continuing to eat, but slower this time, which pleased Dara.
She filled Karson’s bowl twice before he was full. After his third bowl, he leaned back in his chair, satisfied. Dara yawned. “Best be off now,” Karson stood, but Dara stopped him.
“Please, stay here,” she said, and Karson was taken back. “I know what I said before but I hate to think of you trudging all the way through the woods and back just for me. It would be easier if you just stayed here.”
Karson contemplated her offer. He could see the wisdom in her words but a small voice in his head told him to leave. Repeated steadily in his mind that she could not be trusted. He had heard the stories. Seen the proof and read the prophecies.
“She who brings balance
Also brings deceit and fear”
That had been one of the prophecies described by Ranashi. And he remembered clearly that night. She had looked right at him with her dark, magical eyes and he knew she had been speaking to him. And now, he feared, it was Dara she spoke off. But Dara would never try to betray her own family. Her own brethren and tribe…would she? Doubt had been planted; the seed nestled deep in his soul.
But Karson knew that if he was to bring balance to Luxion, he had to learn to trust. So, with a quick shake of his head, he accepted Dara’s offer. “Sure. Saves me money for rent.” He saw Dara’s shoulders slack and left the room for a brief moment, returning with a pallet for him to sleep. He made a grab for it but she pulled it back, out of reach. “This is for me,” Dara said, looking at him with puzzled eyes. “You are to sleep in my bed.”
“Dara,” Karson said, making a grab for the pallet again. “I couldn’t impose myself on you like that.”
“Nonsense. You are a guest,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Guest get the bed. Host gets the floor.” A twinkle in her eye entered at this peculiar statement and Karson was prepared to watch her smile for the first time. But the twinkle vanished and he was left wanting more.
That night, Dara laid on her back on the pallet, gazing up at the ceiling with tired eyes. Fatigue clouded around her like a dense fog but she wouldn’t let it pull her under. Not yet, at least. She had things to think about. Worries to comprehend and thoughts to consider.
First, she thought of Father Brian. The drought was doing its worst on everybody’s gardens. She had never stopped to consider how Father Brian was obtaining his food. He was a simple man. Led a modest life with little luxuries except maybe a sip of the Communion wine on Sundays. Now, she wondered, where in the world did he get it? The food was fresh, as if plucked from the most fertile soil. Maybe from Luxion? Maybe the drought only hovered over the town of Sabrir and the Northern Peninsula? Father Brian was a priest. A high man in society. He probably had friends from various towns. People can be charitable, even in times of war. Maybe they pay their respects to Lord Ashton with offerings to the priest? Now there’s a thought. Dara shook her head. There were so many variables to consider that they were too much for tonight.
So, she let her mind travel to the next one in line. Karson. His peculiar behavior when she kindly asked him to stay set her radar beeping. Most normal men and women who were paying rent would gladly jump at the chance to stay as a guest in somebody’s home, free of charge. But Karson had been hesitant. Does he fear me? Dara shifted uncomfortably. But there is nothing to fear. I am no powerful Healer or magical Sage. I am just plain Dara Valerian. Daughter of Christopher, the Magnificent Raven Warrior and of Sara, the Wise One. Nothing came of her father’s ability to see miles beyond human sight or her mother’s sensitivity to others emotions. Her mother could always tell when she was lying. Dara remembered this with a faint smile on her lips before pushing that memory aside.
Finally, she turned over on her back and closed her mind without realizing it. In Dara’s room, Karson jolted when she forced him out without even knowing it. She has power, Karson remarked silently. He had heard all of her thoughts, loud and clear, as if she had been speaking plainly to him the entire time. So she has suspicions over Father Brian. If there were one thing he could trust about Dara, it would be her perceptive nature. She could tell things about people before even knowing them. He would have to check up on Father Brian and read a few thoughts during his trip into town tomorrow.
Karson rolled over. And she had suspicions over me. This watered the seed of doubt in his stomach. He shouldn’t have waited so long to answer her. He wanted to trust her. He truly did. But Ranashi had warned him about his journey. She had said that trust wasn’t given willingly nor was it taken freely. Trust was something that was given from the heart and taken by the soul. It was a powerful and strange magic. He knew that once he gave his trust wholeheartedly to Dara, she would be connected to him in some way. Ranashi had failed to explain that part but it was clear to him that once he was connected with that person and they take his trust with their soul, he would be able to hear their thoughts without being near them. He had found that out the hard way. During his travels, almost three hundred miles from home, he had been sitting on a log in the middle of the forest when suddenly, Ranashi’s thoughts floated across his mind. She was talking to him and explained that if ever he wanted advise, he needed only to think of her face and they would be able to communicated through thoughts, for Ranashi was one of the Gifted as well as a powerful Sage.
Karson wanted to speak with Ranashi now. He wanted to hear her voice and be blessed with her wisdom. But he knew that this was his path to travel and his to endure alone.
“The journey will be hard
The perils will be many
But you are Gifted
More then you will ever know”
Ranashi had said this to him the day of his departure. And with this saying filling him with strength, he drifted off on a cloud of slumber.
