Sign of the White Raven: Chapter 3

Hello all,

The following excerpt constitutes the third chapter of Sign of the White Raven, Book 2 of The Chronicles of Aertu. I plan to post a chapter at a time, until the book is published. At that time, I will delete most of the posts, reducing the offering to a preview. This action will be necessary to enter the book into the Kindle Select program, which enhances my distribution prospects, but only allows me to offer up to ten percent of the manuscript in digital format. Thank you for your patronage and I hope you enjoy the story.

Chapter 3

Zorekday, Day 30, Squash Moon. 8765 Sudean Calendar

The last of the boats came ashore, with the supplies for the journey. Two additional Arkan ships anchored offshore with Zormat’s own. A small city was springing up on the shores of Mount Norwyll, about one-hundred leagues from the southern edge of the sea ice. This was as far north as the ships were able to ply in these late winter days, due to the proliferation of sea ice. A turn of the moon later and the overland journey could have gone entirely by dogsled, as they could have sailed leagues further north, closer to where the ice held on year round. As it was, the local guides carried their sled dogs south to meet the Arkans, in long open boats, formed of seal hide, stretched over a flexible wood frame. The locals knew how to navigate the ice-ridden waters. The Arkans not setting up tents were assembling carts for the dog teams. They would journey more slowly overland, until reaching the stable sea ice, where the dogsleds awaited them.
The efficient bustle pleased Zormat, as did the presence of the additional Arkan ships, when he came to port that morning. However, the recent events in Kolixtlan troubled him. In the wake of the surprise attack, Ehacatl, barely twenty-one years of age, now held the throne of his most powerful ally among men. Now Kolixtlan had its third king since Zormat first contacted them, five short years ago. The ancient, for men, King Quauhtli passed shortly after that meeting, succeeded by his eldest son, Achcauhtli, who reigned barely five years before the Sudean infiltrators killed him, escaping with the Princess. Even more disturbing, was the similar situation with the High Priests. Mahuizohm succeeded Itzcoatl, after the latter’s unfortunate, if highly suspect, fall from one of the towers. Now, he was gone as well and a new High Priest would rise to the position, requiring Zormat’s personal grooming once again. He could not let this disturbing information distract him from the quest at hand, not even for a moment. He refused to delay the search for Zadehmal. Zormat estimated at least three months to cross the ice and desert, but from there, no one knew for sure how long it would take to find the weapon. Men of the far north worshipped a mountain where they sensed a presence, but none knew where the actual source lay.

The expedition carried the necessary mountaineering equipment to traverse the terrain they would likely encounter and all the Arkans were experienced climbers. Arkus, their homeland, is located in the same latitude that the expedition members now found themselves. Though the central portion of the massive caldera they called home remains warm, due to heat from below the surface, the mountains circling it are high, cold and treacherous. Ancient custom requires all Arkans to prove their mettle in those mountains, as their rite of passage into adulthood. Even Zormat, son of the One True God and King of Arkus, felt compelled to brave those peaks, prior to taking the throne, lest he lose the respect of the people he was to lead. Arkan warriors spent much of their lives in the mountains, training for the inevitable day that they would assault the dwarves in their mountain strongholds.

He turned on his heel and strode toward his command tent to meet with Karsh, his First Mate onboard ship and First Councilor on land. Karsh made a capable First, moving up to the position after the killing of Malix, by the Thallasians. He had, however, a disconcerting habit of questioning Zormat’s decisions, that Malix never made the mistake of, nearly costing him his position on a number of occasions. The command tent was the first set up that morning, taking precedent over all other activity. He stepped through the flap to find Karsh leaning over the map table, along with the other four members of the expedition, selected from among the Arkan forces for their mountaineering ability.

The Arkans snapped to attention at the entry of their ruler. “Sire,” the First acknowledged as Zormat walked over to the table to examine the map for himself.

He and Karsh studied the map many times on their journey, but planning required they refer to it again, here on the ground. “So that everyone is familiar with the route and itinerary, how many leagues to where the sleds are located?” he inquired of Karsh.

“Your Grace, the six sleds are two-hundred leagues up the coast from our current location, here,” the First pointed to a pin stuck in the map. “We should be able to reach them in fourteen day’s travel.”

“Excellent, First and from there, we should be able to make twenty-five leagues a day?”

“Yes, Your Grace, twenty-five, on average and as we have discussed, it will take approximately three months to cross the sea ice and desert, into the mountains beyond.” He traced a course northwest, from the coast of Norwyll and moving parallel to the coast of a long peninsula, jutting south from the north continent. “A week after the equinox, we should arrive here, on the coast of the continent.” He pointed to a spot on the coast, nearly a thousand leagues from where they now stood. “This is the point of closest approach to the mountain the men of the north worship and from there, we will travel fifty days overland to the base of the mountain.”

“Yes, as we discussed,” Zormat replied, “and there are established camps at both of these sites?”

“Yes Sire, the native men travel there in the summer months, to worship, so they maintain campsites at both locations. Due to the timing of our arrival, there should be few men yet at the coast and none when we arrive at the mountain. The only men we encounter will be at their winter hunting grounds. They tend not to venture to their place of worship until the Summer Solstice and we will arrive over a month prior to that event.”
“That is well, for us. I do not want men interfering with our search.”

“Yes, Your Grace, men cannot survive long in the arid and cold conditions we will face, but we are able to.”

“Are the bloodstone glyphs in order and working as expected?”

“Yes, Sire, we tested them in rooms shielded from access to power. They hold sufficient power to sustain one of us for months, so long as we do not draw too heavily on the power.”

“That will allow us to sustain ourselves against cold and hunger in the lifeless desert,” Zormat stated, mainly for the benefit of the new expedition members. All reports characterized the interior of the continent as absolutely lifeless. With no life, there was no death, hence, no red power. “A primary concern will be the extended day, coupled with intense sunlight and the effect it will have on our power. We should plan on the short night for anything requiring power, such as melting ice for drinking. In two days, we set out for the mountain. Make sure all is in order First.”

“As you will, Your Grace,” Karsh replied. The other four kept respectful silence throughout the short session. The first briefed them thoroughly, prior to Zormat entering the tent. “Are you all clear as to your instructions and do any of you have further questions?”

“No Sir, we are clear and ready to execute your instructions,” the ranking officer of the group replied.

Dusk approached as the King stepped out of the command tent and made his way to his private tent to rest for a while. He entered through the double flap to find the space already warm from the folding charcoal brazier, though no servants awaited his arrival, as they would have in Kolixtla, that not being the Arkan way. Kicking off his boots at the entrance, he slid his feet into the slippers, placed there for his convenience. He removed his cloak and jacket, hung them from the hooks on the tent pole and made his way over to the rope bed. Sitting on the bed, he slid back out of the slippers and lay down flat his back, not bothering to get under the blanket. After twenty bells on his feet, the bed felt extremely comfortable and he was extremely tired. A bell later, sleep still eluded him. The slow rolling of the ship he knew from months at sea was absent here on land and no matter how fatigued he was, he always found the transition difficult. Finally, he sat back up, removed his breeches and shirt, and slipped beneath the blanket. He knew methods to stay awake for weeks, if need be, but real sleep was always the better option.

Here’s a link to the next chapter:  https://julianbenoit.wordpress.com/2014/04/21/the-fugitive-king-chapter-4/