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- Herausgeber: WS
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: OldEarth Encounter
- Sprache: Englisch
Enjoy a family saga novel series that spans generations, traveling from Earth to the outer reaches of the universe.
Raised in a world of wild beasts, craven spirits, and noble souls, Neb dominates everyone around him. Only in love does he meet a force he cannot resist. His wife bears two sons who take opposite paths. Clans across the land await the future. Through the eyes of three alien worlds, so does the watching universe.
Where the Newearth world began, before Last of Her Kind, discover OldEarth Encounter.
RELATIONSHIP-CENTERED, HISTORICAL SCI-FI
HUMANITY IS BEING OBSERVED.
ARE WE WORTH SAVING?
One extended family traverses history through Aram, Ishtar, and Neb in a world of wild beasts, craven spirits, and noble souls. Generations later, in the first century AD, Aram’s descendant, Georgios, battles a world of dark secrets, deceptive promises, and hope renewed. Four hundred years later, Georgios’ descendant, Melchior, struggles against opposing forces while trying to hold his family together.
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Seitenzahl: 489
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
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OldEarth
NEB
—ENCOUNTER—
A.K. Frailey
Copyright 2025 A.K. Frailey
ISBN number of eBook Edition: 979-8-9943251-3-1
ISBN of Print Edition: 978-1-7323952-3-7
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions, contact [email protected].
Cover design: A.K. Frailey and James Hrkach
Photo credit of person: Галина Саква
A. K. Frailey Books
THE WRITINGS OF A. K. FRAILEY
Books for the Mind and Spirit
https://akfrailey.com/
Contemporary Literary Fiction
OLDTOWN Fly, Sparrow, Fly
OLDTOWN Brothers Born
Historical Science Fiction Novels
OldEarth ARAM Encounter
OldEarth Ishtar Encounter
OldEarth Neb Encounter
OldEarth Georgios Encounter
OldEarth Melchior Encounter
Science Fiction Novels
Homestead
Last of Her Kind
Newearth Justine Awakens
Newearth A Hero’s Crime
Newearth Progeny
Newearth Relevance
Short Stories
It Might Have Been—And Other Short Stories 2nd Edition
One Day at a Time and Other Stories
Spice of Life and Other Stories
Encounter Science Fiction Short Stories & Novella 2nd Edition
Inspirational Non-Fiction
The Road Goes Ever On: A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings
My Road Goes Ever On: Spiritual Being, Human Journey 2nd Edition
My Road Goes Ever On: A Timeless Journey
My Road Goes Ever: On Rise Again
Children’s Book
The Adventures of Tally-Ho
Wise Home
Wise Home on Lily Pad Pond
Poetry
Hope’s Embrace & Other Poems 2nd Edition
Audible Versions Available.
Check book details on Amazon
for current listings.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
Chapter Sixty
Books by
About the author
Chapter One
—Grasslands—
For Those Who Come After
Gizah stepped outside her home into the glaring sun, balancing a food tray, two bowls, and a carafe of wine in her arms. A long yellow dress with wide, fringed sleeves draped her pregnant figure as she stopped before a wooden table built onto the exterior wall. Laying the tray laden with boiled fish, bread, and fruit next to the carafe, she tilted her head and smiled at her handiwork. A shout in the distance turned her gaze.
Her husband worked alongside five other men in the north field, a band holding back his long black hair and sweat gleaming across his shoulders. Amin hunched over the golden wheat and cut the stalks with a swift, steady hand. He called to another man and wiped his brow. Laughter erupted from the group.
Gizah grinned as a picture of her father Aram filled her mind. Aram and Amin were so alike, strong men who ruled their clans with skill and wisdom—yet so bewildered by their own souls. An ache swelled somewhere deep inside. She clasped her chest and shook her head to drive away the sense of loss. Aram had been a gentle father and a wise friend, and though years had passed since his death, still she longed for his presence.
Glorious sunshine cascaded over the undulating grasslands of their village, and a warm breeze stirred the distant line of river trees. Insects buzzed in late summer activity, and birds chirped and cooed their end-of-the-season songs.
Inhaling a cleansing breath, Gizah blinked away old memories and tried to rejoice in the glorious setting. She rubbed her rounded belly and smiled at her husband, but a memory rose and shadowed her mood. Her lips moved in silent rhythm as she repeated the names she and Amin had discussed the night before: Neb, Enosh, Kenan, Madai…
She frowned. As distantly related clan members, she and her husband shared a long history, yet she knew little of their actual family ties. Last night, they had discussed baby names, and Amin had grown restless, abrupt even, his mood darkening with every reference to his family history.
She shaded her eyes and followed Amin’s muscled arms as he cut great swaths of grain. She bit her lip.
Though the clan had often recited their lineage from long past into present day in tales, poems, sagas, and recitations, Amin would not relate his lineage to her. In taciturn moodiness, he had curled up on their pallet and fallen into a disturbed sleep. When he began thrashing and crying aloud, she awoke, afraid that invaders were at the door. Once she realized that Amin was dreaming, she shook him, but the nightmare continued. In fright, she splashed water on his face.
After spluttering his indignity, Amin calmed down, but the terrifying images returned even before his wide-awake eyes. He sat wide-eyed and shivering, babbling about horrors she could little comprehend.
As she listened, Gizah had grown afraid. What was this heritage that threatened to invade their present world? Who were these figures from long ago that formed so much dark legend?
Gizah sighed and turned from her recent memories to her home. Then she considered the tray at her fingertips. The midday meal lay ready, and her expanding stomach rumbled. She looked up and caught Amin’s eye.
He smiled and waved.
Gizah waved back.
With a call and a gesture to his men, Amin started home.
Gizah poured a measure of wine into the bowls, clasped her hands, and waited.
Amin trudged to the house and flopped down on a wooden bench shaded by a thatched overhang. “I’m as weary as a rabbit after a long chase.”
Gizah grinned and wiped a stray lock of hair from his face. “Well, it’s your own fault. Unlike the rabbit, you could’ve stayed abed a bit longer.”
Averting his gaze, Amin tore off a plump hunk of fish and stacked it on a piece of bread. “Not after last night. I couldn’t sleep.” He bit into the fish and bread and gripped the wine bowl with the other hand.
A snort escaped, but Gizah held a laugh in check. “You’ll choke eating so fast. Slow down.”
Chewing with dramatic emphasis, Amin stared at his wife as if in challenge. After a loud gulping swallow, he slurped the last of the wine and swiped a dribble on his chin with the back of his hand.
Leaning on the table, Gizah grinned and shook her head. “You’re such a child.”
Amin nodded through a shrug and continued to eat. He glanced up. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Gazing across the field, Gizah absently tore off a piece of bread and pinched a morsel of fish. She chewed her bite-sized pieces meditatively, her gaze unfocused. After a dainty sip, she slipped onto the bench.
Amin leaned against the wattle and daub wall, closing his eyes.
She poked him in the shoulder. “Wake up. We need to talk.”
With a groan, Amin waved her away, his eyes still closed.
“Amin!”
His eyes opened with forced effort. He blew air between his teeth. “You wanted me to rest.”
“This morning I wanted you to rest. Now I want you to talk.”
Amin straightened with a groan.
A twist in her middle sent anxiety shooting through Gizah’s body. “You need to explain what happened. What…or who…sent you into nightmares?”
Amin slid off the bench and paced away. “I don’t know. I’ve only heard snatches of our family history.” He glanced at his wife. “Did Aram tell you anything?”
Gizah shook her head. “A little, but he didn’t like to talk about the past.”
Amin sighed and returned to his seat clapping his hands on his thighs. “Those names have a terrible history…a curse. We can’t pass them on to our children.”
“A curse?” Gizah stared ahead, her shoulders slumping as weariness enveloped her. “We need to know. We must ask—”
“We can’t! Neb nearly drove my father mad. I can’t ask him to revisit a past that could have destroyed him. Besides, he’s old—”
Rising, Gizah stared at her husband. “Our child won’t live haunted by fear! We must face our past if we ever hope for a future.” She rubbed her belly. “Besides, our ancestors don’t decide our destiny. In his love for you, Ishtar crossed barren deserts and jumped through fire. I’m sure he’ll share his family history to bring us peace.” She shrugged. “I would.”
Taking Gizah’s hand, Amin caressed her fingers. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
Ishtar sat in the shade outside his home and relished a soft evening breeze. Clouds scraped over the mountains in the west, but he didn’t mind. The harvest was nearly in, and the long-awaited rain would refresh the depleted rivers and ponds.
A stone’s throw away, Amin and Gizah approached with sober faces. He smiled indulgently and feasted his eyes on Gizah’s expanding middle. A familiar thrill raced over his skin. Amin will make a wonderful father…and I’ll be a grand— He swallowed the joyful thought as Amin stopped before him, grim-faced.
“Father.”
Ishtar stood and beckoned them inside.
As the couple sat on pallets in the corner of the room, Ishtar placed twigs on a smoldering fire in the hearth. He fanned the flames, which brightened the room. After pouring wine into small bowls and placing them before the couple, he brought out a tray heaped with nuts, figs, and dates.
Gizah accepted the fruit with graciousness, but Amin waved the offering away. “Father, we’ve been talking...”
Amused though perplexed, Ishtar settled cross-legged across from them, chewing languidly on a fig. He leaned back and grinned. “I would hope so.”
Gizah laid her hand on Amin’s knee. “Amin has been having nightmares.”
Ishtar’s smile vanished as he straightened. “About what?”
Amin climbed to his feet with a grunt and paced across the room, breaking through swirling smoke. “I can hardly explain. We were discussing names for the baby…and I mentioned those I knew from our history: Neb, of course, though we’d never choose that one. Serug, Athaliah, Madai, Kenan, Enosh—”
Ishtar leaped to his feet, his heart pounding, and nausea rising from a cauldron in his middle. “You don’t know those people—who they were or what they did.”
Amin swallowed and stared hard at his father. Their gazes locked. “That’s the problem. We don’t know. Not enough.”
Gizah rose and clasped her husband’s hand. “But we should. How can we keep our family traditions alive and remember those worthy of renown if we don’t know who they were and what heroic deeds they accomplished?”
Loath to revisit the past, Ishtar grimaced. “Not all our ancestors were heroic. Some were devilish.” Flashes of memory tore through his mind. Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to remember Matalah’s gentle face, the innocent flock of sheep he tended in the distant hills, and the face of his beloved, departed son. “I don’t know if I can—” He broke off and stepped to the doorway, gulping the cool evening air.
Gizah stepped near and rested her hand on his shoulder. “For the sake of our child—and those who come after—tell us about your great-grandfather, Neb the Great. Do as you have done many times before; tell us a story, but this time, tell us our true heritage. Weave what you learned from others and your own insight. Let Neb’s life be your guide.”
Clasping her hand, Ishtar turned and met Gizah’s imploring eyes. Though their clansmen had never considered her beautiful because of her misshapen hand and slight stoop, Ishtar saw beauty that soared far beyond the earthly realm. He remembered Pele, the slave girl who had saved his entire clan with her daring courage. He glanced at his son, a boy now grown to manhood, who deserved to know his real heritage, no matter how bitter that truth might be.
Ishtar nodded.
Chapter Two
—Woodlands—
Destined for Greatness
(Three Generations Earlier)
Neb knew that he was destined for greatness. The first son of a first son who was also a first son. When he was born, his mother, Meshullemeth, declared that he would rule far and wide and great would be his name. She repeated this prophetic declaration to him on more than one occasion and then proceeded to raise Neb as a ruthless despot who would let nothing get in the way of his all-consuming desire to rule everything—and everyone.
Standing with his hands clenched on his hips, Neb stared at a shivering servant bowing before him on the floor of his tent. He scowled in disgust. Even at the tender age of eight, he knew when he had been defied. He puffed his cheeks in raging indignation.
The servant, a mere boy himself wearing only a scanty tunic, trembled in clear expectation of the accustomed blows that Neb was known to hurl against anyone guilty of a clumsy mistake or a thoughtless word.
Neb glared at his mother who stood to the side. “I want him thrown off a cliff or speared through the chest!”
Meshullemeth glanced from the servant to her son, one eyebrow lifted, accenting her long face and sharp features. She pursed her lips. “Seems a waste…he’s young enough to be useful for years to come.”
“I don’t care!” Neb stomped to the wall of his tent and dragged his spear forward. With blind fury propelling his every move, he grabbed the hapless slave, and shoved him through the open doorway. “Get out there where I can line you up properly.”
Meshullemeth followed, clucking her tongue.
His head down, the slave dragged himself across the compound until Neb called a halt.
Neb shoved the boy against the wide girth of an ancient tree. “Stand still!”
The servant wailed as he watched Neb take a giant step backward, his gaze fixed, aiming the spear. “Please! Master, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know—”
Gray-haired and slump-shouldered, Hezeki dressed in a fine robe and soft leggings trotted near, his face reddening with each step. “Neb? What are you doing?”
Scowling, Neb faced his father. “I’m going to kill this worthless—”
Meshullemeth’s eyes darted from husband to son, her lips pursed.
With surprising agility, Hezeki swooped forward and plucked the spear from his son’s grasp. “Foolish boy! An infant, indeed, if you think you can kill an innocent slave—”
Spit flew as Neb’s wrath exploded. “Innocent? He broke my best knife!”
Hezeki glanced at the trembling slave whose eyes implored mercy. Hezeki turned to his son and pointed the spear at Neb’s chest. “You must learn patience and understanding. Anyone can make a mistake. Even you!” Without another word, the old man beckoned the teary-eyed slave forward. “Go home and get the mid-day meal ready.”
The day’s entertainment over, Meshullemeth shrugged and, with a sly wink at her son, meandered away.
Hezeki cleared his throat. “I won’t speak of this again. You can kill anything in the forest, hunt to your heart’s desire, but you must never kill a human being except in uttermost need.”
Neb turned his piercing black eyes from the retreating slave to his mother’s back and then shifted his gaze to his father. His spine stiff and his teeth clenched, he muttered under his breath, “Uttermost need.”
Neb grew like a sapling, wiry and strong like his father, never as thick or robust as his mother. When Meshullemeth gave birth to two strapping boys three years apart and eventually to a beautiful daughter, he paid them little mind. As long as his mother’s attention stayed focused on him, he was satisfied.
On a bright day in the southern hills with no hint of a breeze, Neb, grown to his full stature, went into the wild to seek game for his family. Other hunters in the clan could do the job as well, but rumors spread near and wide that a bear of enormous size roamed the hills to the south.
Long desiring a noteworthy prize to bring home to his people, Neb wandered the woods, scanned tree trunks for claw marks, and searched the ground for scats, crushed stems, or bits of victims scattered among the ferns and saplings. When he came upon promising signs, he slowed his steps through the undergrowth.
Late in the day, as sweat dripped down the side of his face, he stopped at the sound of rustling in the distance. He scanned the forest and saw the brown humping form of a great she-bear. It padded slowly, stopping and snuffling through the bracken with a small form shadowing her left side. Neb smiled. Mother bears with cubs were hard to kill. Finally, a feat worthy of his skill.
Keeping his scent downwind, he stealthily followed, and when he came upon the mother from the right side, he readied his spear. In his mind, he could hear his father’s voice. “Never attack a dangerous animal alone. Always keep a clear path toescape.” Neb chuckled at the memory. The bear, not he, would long for escape.
With an upturned nose, the bear stopped and sniffed the air. Suddenly, she swiveled around and rose on her back legs to her full height, a low growl emanating from her chest. Her black eyes glittered in alarm and fury.
Neb’s heart exalted. “Frightened? Ah! Fight as you wish, but I’ll spill your blood and take your cub for my own.” He approached steadily, lifting his spear, and balancing his weight with each step. After bracing himself and leaning back, he gave a mighty grunt and threw, using every bit of his muscled strength.
The spear arced through the air and then…fell short…landing softly, ignobly, in the ferns.
The bear’s growl deepened and grew louder.
In all his years of certain kills and absolute demands, Neb had never been so defied. He had willed his spear into the heart of the beast, and yet it had landed harmlessly before the animal like a pathetic offering. He stood transfixed.
Pure instinct incarnate, the mother bear charged, her muscles rippling. Her thrusting shoulders and grunts throbbed to the rhythm of her fury.
Shock quickly gave way to self-preservation. Neb turned and ran for his life. Branches and thorns tore his skin, nettles pricked his feet, sweat poured down his back, but Neb pressed on, running beyond his strength, even though he feared his heart would burst with the effort. By the time he dropped to the ground in exhaustion, the bear had given up and returned to her young.
Well after dusk, Neb dragged his weary body into his village. Seeing his ripped, bloody clothes and multiple wounds, word quickly spread that a bear had bested Neb. He slipped into his tent and collapsed on his pallet.
Meshullemeth scurried to his aid, brandishing wet cloths and strong brew. “My poor boy! How could this happen?”
Neb pushed her away. “Leave me alone, woman. I’m resting.” He curled on his side and offered his back along with his scorn.
With a huff not unlike the disgruntled bear, Meshullemeth turned away.
Neb closed his eyes, but burning shame scoured his cheeks and intensified the stings across his body.
Heavy footsteps padded near.
Neb squeezed his eyes tighter to shut out the intrusion.
His father spoke into the darkness, undoubtedly with his mother wringing her hands beside him.
“Stupid child, you could’ve been killed. What made you attack such an opponent, alone, against all wisdom? A mother bear is often beyond the skill of even experienced hunters.”
Ignoring the pain searing his skin, Neb turned and rose to his feet. He glared at his father. “I will challenge her again. I’ll kill her and take the cub. She will fear me in the end.”
In the darkness, Hezeki chuckled. “And who will undertake to support you in such a challenge? Not I or any of my men. We have more sense. There are many fine animals that may be had at half the risk. We are not so desperate for food as you seem to think.”
Neb’s gaze fixed on his father. “It’s not her flesh I wish to consume but her life.”
Hezeki snorted. “You, of all my children, are the most senseless. Enosh and Kenan would never attempt such a thing. Even Eva, a little girl, knows better.”
Meshullemeth stood by, watching the exchange between father and son, her eyes narrowed.
With a wave of dismissal, Neb grabbed his pillow and closed his eyes, shutting out his parents.
Grunting in disgust, Hezeki left. His distant voice soon mingled with anxious villagers who shouted questions, asking about Neb’s condition, but Hezeki did not answer.
Meshullemeth laid her hand upon her son’s head and stroked his hair. “You need more than your father or I can give you. A power we do not possess.”
Turning, Neb opened his eyes, and for a moment, he stared at his mother feeling like an infant needing comfort. But the glittering fury of the she-bear blackened out every other thought. He clenched his hands. “Truly, you cannot give me what I need.”
Exhaling a long sigh, Meshullemeth rose and stepped away. “I will find someone who can.”
His mother’s footsteps padded out the door, and at long last, Neb let exhaustion have its way with him…
In the dark of night, a howl rose with the wind. Neb stirred.
A hulking bear rose before him, large and menacing, opening her mouth in a bellowing roar.
Neb turned to run, but he tripped and fell backward. Suddenly, a frenzy of hate enveloped him. He sprang to his feet and faced the wild animal that towered over him. Gripping his spear, his gaze met hers.
The great hulking beast growled in human speech. “Honor me, and I will spare you.”
In response, Neb braced himself and thrust with every bit of his strength. This time, his spear struck true.
Chapter Three
—Woodlands—
Perfect Vengeance
(Ten years later)
Enosh watched his younger brother, Kenan, with fascinated interest. His little brother had been practicing with a man-sized spear for months now, and though still growing, he had mastered it with respectable skill. His unusual height gave him an advantage, for he could aim at a distant goal and leverage his weight for greater strength. Enosh grinned at the thought of his little brother intimidating even seasoned warriors.
Leaning against a tree, Enosh rubbed his bearded jaw as he observed the determined care his brother took of his stance and the power behind each throw. Clearly, in his preoccupation with staying out of Neb’s way, he had missed the developing potential of his little brother.
As he glanced around the quiet village, Enosh sighed. Life was hard in the southern hills of late. The past few years had seen little rain, and animals were scarce. Raiders constantly threatened, and illness plagued young and old alike.
Hezeki strode by with his gaze down, his shoulders stooped, and his steps slow and unsteady. One leg had swelled alarmingly of late, shifting his normal stride to a halting limp.
On impulse, Enosh ran forward and intercepted him.
Hezeki peered up, blinking. After a startled grunt, a smile broke over his face. “Oh, Enosh. It’s you. I thought—” He shook his head. “Never mind. You need something?”
Enosh glanced at his brother lining up another throw. “I’ve been watching Kenan. He’s grown strong and able. I thought perhaps I’d begin to train him in earnest.” He met his father’s gaze and wavered. “That is, if you don’t mind. I know he’s still young—”
Hezeki squinted in the strong light as he pointed at his youngest son. “Not at all. He’s a worthy boy and should be trained. I’ve neglected him for the cares of the village.” He tugged Enosh aside. “You see well enough that I’m growing old, and Neb should rule after me, but—” He bit his lip and peered into the distance. “He’s grown too secretive and impossible to control.”
Enosh winced and clenched his jaw against a stinging retort.
Hezeki’s eyes narrowed, a sly glint twinkled. “But you—you and your brother—as allies could challenge Neb.”
Foreboding boiled in Enosh’s middle. “We’re hardly in a position… And besides, you’re still our leader.”
Distracted, Hezeki fixed his attention on the horizon. “Neb runs off to gods-know-where and returns cockier and more determined than ever. He wants leadership…soon. Mark my words; he’ll try something. He hardly listens to me now.” He glanced at his leg and winced. “His mother prowls like a hungry cat—”
A shout caught their attention as a gathering of clansmen lined up to match Kenan’s throws. One man hung a bright rag on a tree branch on the other side of the compound. It fluttered in a soft breeze like a bird caught in a snare.
Man after man threw their spears at the target, some nearly hitting it, others flushing as their spears fell short of the mark.
Hezeki laughed and pointed as a fifth man cursed his ill luck. “Couldn’t hit a boulder that one, never was a good shot.”
Enosh peered at his brother, standing patiently aside as the older men vied for the glory of a perfect throw. He called out and limped closer. “Let Kenan try!”
Kenan’s eyes widened, but as he fixed his gaze on his father, he stepped in place.
Hezeki crossed his arms and thrust out his chest, a studied frown replacing his grin.
Kenan arched his shoulders, steadied his footing, fixed his gaze on the cloth, positioned his spear, and threw.
The shaft flew across the compound, tore into the cloth, and pinned it to the ground.
A shout rose from the watching villagers. Women and children clapped their hands and cheered.
Hezeki shuffled forward; a smile spread wide across his face. “Welldone, son!” He patted Kenan on the shoulder and pointed to Enosh. “Your bother has offered to attend to your training, and I agree. With you two at my side, I’ll never fear the approach of an enemy.”
Nodding at respectful murmurs of agreement, Hezeki turned and limped into the village, his gaze now meeting the approving stares of clansmen.
Enosh followed Kenan as the boy retrieved his spear. “I hope you don’t mind. I probably should’ve asked you if you wanted—”
Kenan clasped his spear and snorted. “Of course, I want your help. Need it, more like. I may have aim and strength, but I don’t know much about battle or handling an opponent.” He yanked the rag away and wiped down the spear point. “Father once mentioned a contest inviting the clans all around. You think I’d be allowed to participate?”
“Don’t see why not. After all, there’s not a man here who could best you without serious effort, and few put forth the thought and time you have. You’ll impress many.”
Kenan pursed his lips. “I am not interested in impressing anyone…” His gaze dropped to the ground. “There’s one man I’ll never please. My very existence irritates him.”
Enosh wrinkled his nose, disgust rising. “Don’t let him—”
“No, little brother, don’t let anyone bother you.” Neb stepped around Enosh; a sneer disfiguring his otherwise perfectly balanced features.
Enosh smothered a curse, his face flushing.
Neb pointed at Kenan’s spear. “I hear you amazed the clan with your skill and prowess. Let me see.” He gestured to indicate a knothole in a distant tree. “Hit that, if you can.” A snarl crept across his face. “We’ll both try.”
Enosh rubbed his mouth to keep from uttering an oath.
Kenan lifted his spear and hesitated, his gaze skipping over Neb to Enosh. “I doubt any man alive can throw that distance.”
A smaller knothole, closer but still a respectable target, caught Enosh’s eye. He lifted an eyebrow and glanced aside.
Without changing his expression, Kenan nodded. He lined up next to Neb and fixed his gaze on Neb’s target. They both lifted their spears and steadied their arms. Neb threw, but his spear fell short, hitting the tree at the base.
In a flash, Kenan threw at the second knothole, hitting it dead center.
Enosh laughed and clapped with thunderous delight.
A responding grin spread wide across Kenan’s face.
Neb scowled and retrieved his spear.
Enosh faced his older brother. “Your throw was certainly the farthest, and your aim was good, but I admire Kenan’s choice. Far more reasonable to aim for something he could actually hit.”
Neb stared at Enosh, turning his back on Kenan. “You like to make sport of me, but a man can’t always pick an easy target. A time will come when the impossible must be made possible for your own survival. Don’t forget, I am the eldest, and when I give an order, it’ll be worth your life to obey it.”
Kenan rested his spear on the ground, his knuckles whitening and anxiety lining his eyes.
Enosh shrugged Neb’s taunt away as he glanced at his father’s figure in the distance. “You may be the eldest son, but you may not be the leader. Many will not follow you. Don’t speak of what a life is worth for you care for no man.” He laid his hand on Kenan’s shoulder, and the two strode away.
Neb clenched his hands and watched his brothers retreat into the village. The memory of a towering bear flashed before his eyes. The mammoth beast had defeated him the first time, but only because he had not been properly prepared. Months later, he tracked her down and thrust a spear into her chest, though he never found the cub. In his vengeance, he burned the animal carcass so that its spirit could never return to earth. He exiled it, powerless, into the spirit world where it could use neither tooth nor claw again. He savored his vengeance for years.
He would do the same with his brothers—exile their spirits into the world beyond where they would have no power over him. He glanced aside, fixing his gaze on his father’s bent back. Disgust rose like bile in his throat.
With a grunt, he turned and headed toward the woods.
A call stopped him in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder.
Hezeki, with sneering eyes, beckoned his eldest forward.
Neb clenched his jaw. His father’s feeble power still held him—but not for much longer.
Chapter Four
—Woodlands—
Face Your Destiny
Meshullemeth watched, fascinated, as a gnarled, old woman chanted incantations into the black night.
Men stood in a circle, their eyes glittering while women hovered, shushing their children, and clutching them close.
A dank, earthy smell permeated the air. An owl shrieked.
The crone hunched and cavorted around a blazing fire, her voice dropping into guttural speech, then rising into a screech.
Meshullemeth glanced at an old man, who sat slumped and scowling, cross-legged in the shadows. He had promised that he could contact the forces of nature, only to discredit himself by admitting that the other world was beyond his power to control. Meshullemeth frowned. What had the idiot thought? That she wanted an idle chat with the spirits?
Crackling sparks flew into the air. The old woman’s lilting chant halted, and a familiar yet horrible drone rose from the old hag’s mouth.
A wraith demanded attention.
Chills ran along Meshullemeth’s arms as she sucked in a deep breath. For Neb. She would do anything. She shuddered as the old crone’s eyes fixed on her.
Anything?
A cavernous voice echoed into the night. “Certain, you must be, to seek my aid.”
Meshullemeth swallowed a lump rising in her throat. She glanced at her son.
With his arms crossed over his muscled chest, Neb stood against an ancient tree, his body shadowed by the black wood.
The voice beckoned, cajoling. “Come forth, Seeker. Face your destiny.”
Unfolding his arms, Neb stepped into the light. He squared his shoulders and glared through unwavering eyes.
“What would you have?”
“Power.”
“To what end?”
“To rule all that I will.”
“And in return?”
“Whatever you wish.”
A gloating chuckle turned into screeching madness and fled into the night sky.
The old woman collapsed.
Neb retreated into the shadows.
Disorientated as the crowd dissolved, left only with a slumped figure on the ground, Meshullemeth frowned. She had arranged for the two greatest forces in her world to meet and come to agreement, but she had understood none of their conversation.
She realized with a start that only her son would know what had happened because the old woman never remembered what had occurred once she came out of her spells.
Exhaling a long cleansing breath, Meshullemeth felt a heavy burden fall from her shoulders. Neb would now be assisted by something greater than his mother. She glanced aside.
Neb stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the flames.
Meshullemeth rose and winced at the familiar ache in her feet. Clutching the sorcerer’s shoulder, she shook the old hag. “Wake up. It’s over. You can go home now.”
The slouched figure crumpled like a discarded rag.
Her heart clenched in terror. Meshullemeth crouched low and peered into the wide-open eyes.
They did not waver.
Meshullemeth waved her hands before the crone’s face.
Nothing.
A sick foreboding clawed at her insides. “Neb! Come quickly. She’s sick, struck dumb, or—”
With marching steps, Neb paced across the compound. Using his foot, he nudged the old woman.
Her body rolled to one side, her flabby arms falling askew, her head tilting at an unnatural angle.
“She’s no use now.”
Burning nausea caught in Meshullemeth’s throat.
Neb waved to two men standing around the fire. “Carry her to her hut and leave her there. She’ll wake up eventually.”
Meshullemeth tottered forward and clutched her son’s arm. “You have what you need, thanks to me.” She winced as two men clumsily shifted the woman’s body and hauled her away. “You’ll remember that, won’t you?”
An owl hooted in the distance, and a cat yowled at an unseen threat.
Neb peered down at his mother, his chin a sharp outline against the flickering light. Without another word, he turned and stepped into the darkness.
Meshullemeth shivered and wrapped her arms around her frozen body.
Chapter Five
—Planet Sectine—
Every Intimate Detail
Zuri, wearing his sleek bio-ware armor but without the headgear or heavy boots, meandered along the Sectine City main street with his blond hair fanning over his shoulders and his sandaled feet darkened with their first real tan. He stared at his datapad and stepped aside as a runner padded in his direction.
The jogging Uanyi—a slim youth just over a meter tall with a soft, rubbery exoskeleton, a slim breathing mask fitted over enormous mandibles, and wide eyes bulging from a faintly green face—grinned like an idiot and laughed out loud. He peered over his shoulder and shouted, “Hey, Mechanical Man…you lose some of your parts?”
Ark, a water-born Crestonian, potbellied and wearing his usual white terrestrial bio-suit, loped beside Zuri with his four tentacles swaying at his side. He scowled at the youth, his bulbous eyes growing ever wider, though still not as spectacular as natural Uanyi orbs. He wiggled one tentacle like a snake ready to pounce.
The youth sped away.
After snorting a storm of bubbles through his breathing helm, Ark turned his attention to the Ingot and frowned. “We don’t want to be conspicuous, remember?” He grasped Zuri’s arm and led him into a busy intersection where a uniformed Uanyi traffic guard waved them across the street with a stoic I’ll-be-doing-this-forever expression.
His fingers flying, Zuri tapped another message and scowled. He halted in the middle of the street.
The guard blinked his huge eyes. His chest expanded as if preparing for a serious challenge to his pedestrian authority.
Croaking, Ark tugged Zuri safely across the busy intersection. “What? Trying to get us killed?”
Zuri’s attention stayed glued to his datapad. He tapped a third message. He waited and tapped again. Alarm zipped through his synapsis. “She cut me off right in the middle of—” He peered at Ark’s frowning face. “Something must’ve happened…or she’s—”
Ark shook his head. “You’re obsessed with that Bhuaci. Forget about that shapeshifter and focus on our mission. Think about Teal, Sterling, and all the humanoids who are counting on us—”
With a shake, Zuri pocketed his datapad and chewed his lip, irritation replacing his alarm. “First of all, Kelesta isn’t just a Bhuaci shapeshifter, second, Teal is meeting with Queen Tcesni right now, and third, humanity doesn’t even know—”
A scream turned their attention.
One of the Sectine buildings appeared to melt; a cascade of dirt and rubble slid to one side like a giant collapsing anthill.
Zuri and Ark raced to the edge of the street and hovered on the periphery as a crowd gathered. The crossing guard scuttled forward and blew a piercing whistle. Sirens across the city responded.
The jogging youth appeared on Zuri’s left, his eyes bigger than ever, and clutched the Ingot’s shoulder. “Did you see what happened?”
Zuri shook his head. “It just fell apart…your buildings aren’t reinforced like—”
“No!” The youth shoved Zuri aside. “It was sabotage, idiot.” He stared from Ark to Zuri. “I’d think with your superior bio-ware, you’d see better, but it’s obvious you’re blind.” He stomped away.
Ark swayed on his stiffly booted feet, glaring from the departing Uanyi to his friend. “We’re supposed to manage a treaty with these people, but they can’t even keep their buildings upright or their tempers in check.”
Zuri shrugged. “I always said they were inferior. I don’t even know why Sterling wants them as allies. Now the Bhuaci—”
“Stop! If I have to hear one more word about the glorious world of Bhuacs, I’ll—”
From the damaged building, medics carried the bodies of a woman and child on stretchers, both partially crushed and clearly dead. The crowd surged forward, exhaling a collective groan.
“You know, I’m still wearing most of my protective bio-ware.”
Ark nodded, his somber gaze fixed on the scene. “You want to help?”
His shoulders slumping, Zuri shook his head. “I’d just get in the way.” He clasped his hands over his chest. “My heart is pounding like a turbine…” He winced. “I’m going to be sick.”
Ark glanced at a spiral building on the top of a high, gray plateau. “Your emotions are getting the better of you. Extremely dangerous, my friend.” He gripped Zuri’s arm. “We’d better head to Invicta Hall and find out what kind of deal Teal is making—before he gets us into trouble.”
A fog settled over Zuri’s mind as he lurched forward. “Don’t be ridiculous. Teal is sensible. Luxonian and all. He’ll never be caught off guard.”
Teal swallowed and licked his dry lips. Oh, God. In a thirty-year-old muscular male human form, dressed in a sleeveless tan shirt, dark blue pants, and black shoes, Teal faced the most exotic, insectoid creature he had ever met in his life. He wiped his brow and scowled at the accumulated sweat. Formally crossing his arms and bowing, he showed proper Uanyi obeisance. “Your Majesty. I was supposed to meet with representative Jasmine, I believe.”
On a jewel-studded throne, Tcesni sat with a straight back. Her eyelids lifted a couple ofmillimeters over her verdant green, almond-shaped eyes. Wearing a multicolored, nearly translucent dress, her form appeared to shimmer in air rippling in thedesert heat. An orange glow enveloped her. With a flick of her long-fingered hand, she beckoned. “Jasmine no longer serves the imperial throne. Come closer, Luxonian. I have always wanted to meet one of your kind.”
Clearing his throat, Teal started forward.
The closer he came, the more intense her orange silhouette grew.
She lifted her palm, halting his momentum. “Not too close.” A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her ruby lips. She slipped off her throne, stretched to her full height—a good meter taller than the average Uanyi—and straightened her high-ridged shoulders.
Forcing his gaze away from the six rounded breasts straining the fabric of her dress on her mid-section, Teal clenched his jaw. No one told me—
Tcesni chuckled as she sashayed forward. She stepped around her guest and directed her steps to a wall dispensary. “You thought we were Earth insects, maybe? Laid eggs on a branch somewhere?”
“I’ve studied your—”
Pulling a tube from the wall, Tcesni offered it to Teal. “Come, take a refreshment. It’s a sweet scent. A kind of chewy air…or breathable liquid. Sure to give your exhausted body a much-needed lift.”
Accepting the tube, Teal’s fingers touched Tcesni’s. He flinched.
Tcesni grinned as she placed a second tube to her lips. “Don’t be afraid. I allow as much closeness as I want. It’s you who must be careful.” She took a long drag on the tube, her cheeks caving inward with the effort. Closing her eyes, she suspended her breath.
Teal followed her example but with his eyes open.
Exhaling in a long, sensuous stream, the Uanyi queen opened her eyes and grinned. “I knew you’d keep yours open. Never one to let your guard slip.”
The most intoxicating thrill sped through Teal’s entire body. His mind expanded as his vision sharpened. Every sense sizzled with brilliant lucidity. He dropped the tube and swayed to a luxurious couch set in a cozy pattern with three other chairs under a dazzling skylight.
Settling on the largest chair padded with plump pillows in a stunning array of colors, Tcesni crossed her legs and laced her fingers over her thorax. She leaned back and sighed. “So tell me…what did you study? Our body structures? Cultural habits? Mating procedures?”
As a sudden nausea swept over him, Teal leaped to his feet. He glanced around, his euphoria devolving into a frantic need to vomit.
Tcesni flicked an elongated finger to a side room. “Over there. But be quick.”
Retching his nearly empty stomach into a metallic sink, Teal heaved repeatedly. Then he sighed and washed his face under water streaming from a wall faucet. Sidestepping the water flowing onto the floor and into a central drain, he shuddered and padded to the sitting room. He stood before the queen. “A test?”
Tcesni shrugged. “Not really. No one ever passes. I’m not sure why I bother.”
Clenching his jaw to hold down the vestiges of bile, Teal plunked down on the chair opposite. He looked at her through blinking eyes. “I don’t understand. I came here with the best of intentions…and you poison me?”
A lilting laugh. Very amused.
Teal fought the desire to turn into a prehistoric bird of prey and devour the insect-woman.
Controlling her giddiness, Tcesni swept a slender chalky white stick off the table and bit off the end. She chewed languidly. “Listen, Luxonian. I know exactly why you’re here. You want allies against the Cresta incursions stealing your quaint little playground on Earth.”
“It’s more than that!” Teal rose unsteadily and paced to a dirt-packed wall with scooped-out shelves. Examples of primitive natural art and exotic plant specimens lined the edge like items for sale at market. He turned and faced the queen of Sectine. “Earth is important…not because we want to own it but to protect it. I have seen with my own eyes the power of a man named Ishtar to turn from a cruel heritage and choose his own destiny. Humans are developing rapidly, and at some point, they might be in a posi—”
“Spare me!” Having nibbled the stick to a nub, Tcesni flicked it aside. She rose, and once again, her rounded breasts bulged.
Teal looked away.
Scampering forward, the Uanyi Queen plucked his arm and tugged him close. “Look at me, Luxonian. I’m insectoid and mammalian. Nothing you’ve ever encountered before. I give birth to live young…though there are a few remnants who—” She shivered. “I can feed six at a time, but I lose half within the first three cycles.”
Teal pulled away. “You don’t have to—”
“If you want our help, you should know every intimate detail.” Wrapping her arms around Teal’s waist, she focused her gaze on his, her eyes widening, her lips parting, and her sharp incisors sparkling.
With a yelp, Teal broke free.
Chapter Six
—Woodlands—
Neb Must Rule
Hezeki tossed and turned, his blanket wrapped around his middle. Finally, in fretful exhaustion, he sat up, threw the blanket aside, and wiped his sweaty brow. Darkness covered the stifling room. Meshullemeth, a bulky lump, slept not a handbreadth away.
Heaving a long sigh, he dragged his fingers through his hair. Images chased each other before his eyes: Neb shoving Kenan to the ground and standing over the boy with his belligerent smirk.
Hezeki could still feel the rush of heat flush his face as he tried to intervene.
Neb’s smirk vanished at his approach and reformed into a scowl. He had pointed to the embarrassed youth. “He’s grown insolent. Someone must teach him manners.”
Fearing that his teeth might break under pressure, Hezeki had unclenched his jaw and muttered, “You couldn’t teach a dog manners!”
As the next image rammed through his mind, Hezeki squeezed his eyes shut. Once he reached Kenan, he had bent low to assist the boy, but Neb had swiped his foot under him, unbalancing him.
Hezeki rubbed his swollen leg. He could still feel the burning pain where his skin broke against the rocky ground. Pits and dark spots grew each day as it continued to swell to disfiguring size.
Clansmen had rushed to his aide, muttering their fears. “Neb challenges Hezeki!”
Neb’s voice had lifted above the tumult as he yanked Kenan to his feet. “Show more respect, brother. Danger approaches, and only those found worthy will join me as I go into battle.”
Hezeki had climbed to his feet, spitting fury at his eldest son. His mind had whirled as if he were seeing an apparition from another world.
Enosh had stepped forward and stood at his side.
Encouraged by his second son’s loyalty, Hezeki had lifted his arm and voiced his opinion. “By the gods above, Neb, respect is earned. Not grasped at as a spoiled child grabs at ahoneycomb. You’re a usurper, an unnatural heir, a—”
Neb had merely raised the flat of his hand, peered at the frightened crowd, and carried his voice over his father’s. “Prepare your weapons! An enemy approaches! I have seen him, and he is fierce.” In a mighty flourish, Neb had swept toward his tent.
Standing with his two young sons in confused amazement, Hezeki, disabled and in pain, could do nothing.
With shuffled steps and disconcerted frowns, the clansmen returned to their duties, their gazes shifting away from their leader.
Even Kenan grunted and looked aside.
Refusing to acknowledge the pain in his leg and the ache in his heart, Hezeki stood trembling. “Strike the leader, and the clan will scatter.”
Enosh had merely spluttered. “He’s mad! And dangerous. What will you do, Father?”
Hezeki’s response echoed in his mind. “Your mother will follow Neb, but you two must decide for yourselves. Neb is right; a terror has come upon us, but it was of our own making.”
Clapping his hands over his face as if to block any further revelations, Hezeki dropped back onto his bed, stared out the window, and prayed for the release of a deep sleep…or a quick death.
The clouds parted. A sliver of the moon and a patch of stars shone through, but grief seared his heart.
Hezeki glanced at the lump of his snoring wife. “I should’ve stopped him long ago.”
Enosh and Kenan packed their bags in silence. After tying the cord in a tight knot, Enosh traipsed outside. He crossed the compound, entered his parent’s house, tiptoed to the far corner, and lifted his sleeping sister from her pallet. Her long black hair cascaded over his arm. He carried her back to his dwelling.
As he entered, Kenan’s eyes widened.
Enosh shook his head. “She will be safer with us. I don’t know what Neb is planning, but I’ll not trust him with this defenseless child.” He placed the girl on his own pallet and drew a cover over her. When she stirred, he murmured softly. “Sleep, Eva. You’ll rest with us tonight.”
Kenan dropped his voice to a whisper. “How many men will come with us?”
“Maybe half the clan, if we’re lucky. Few men like Neb, but they see his youth and strength, and father is growing frail. His propheciesof doom will make many side with him who might otherwise have followed Hezeki. It was a clever move on Neb’s part to suggest we might be attacked.”
“So, it’s just a story?”
“If there is an attack, he has something to do with it.”
Kenan’s eyes rounded with shock. “He wouldn’t attack his own clan!”
Standing in the doorway, Enosh slapped the doorpost. “Neb must rule, even if he destroys his clan to do it.”
With a shake of his head, Kenan returned to his packing.
Eva turned onto her side;her sleep only briefly disturbed.
Enosh stared at the star-strewnsky and wondered if he would ever sleep again.
Chapter Seven
—Woodlands—
What Every Man Must
Hezeki pictured his brother at their last meeting. A large man with a thick beard, eyes that could pierce silent thoughts, and muscles a bear might envy. He struggled up a steep incline, grabbing branches and exposed roots to keep from slipping backwards. His leg, despite being swollen and disfigured, still allowed him to move freely. Once he reached the plateau, he glanced around. A glory of dark green pines to the left, grasslands to the right, and mountains in the distance. But no people. No neighbors, friends, or enemies anywhere.
Despite the cuts and welts on his hands and the pain in his leg, Hezeki grinned as he rubbed his arms to keep warm. “Ashkenazi was never a man to welcome strangers. Or family members for that matter. More comfortable in the wild, he left home without a word many long years ago.”
Clansmen fanned out in an array behind them, hefting heavy packs on their shoulders, grim-faced but patiently enduring.
Enosh reached for a handhold. “So, how do you know he’s here?”
Hezeki braced his feet as best he could and pulled Enosh the last treacherous step.
Kenan and Eva traipsed along the winding incline along with the others.
“I heard news of his…peculiar lifestyle. Word spreads. Even in his isolation, folk speak of his marvelous strength.” Hezeki shrugged, his gaze following his younger son as the boy held Eva’s hand, assisting her over a boulder. “A man like Ashkenazi can never truly leave the world behind, because the world will never leave him behind.”
Enosh exhaled a long breath, his glance sweeping the perimeter. “What does he do in the wilderness, all by himself?”
“What every man must. He survives. Though…” Hezeki rubbed his bearded chin. “Ashkenazi has a taste for unusual pastimes.”
Enosh frowned, shifting his eyes from Hezeki’s leg.
“Nothing gruesome. He just likes to…” Hezeki peered at the sky, a blush of embarrassment working up his face. “Paint pictures on cave walls.” He toed a small rock and tipped it over the edge of the cliff. “Our father was not enchanted with such doings. And when disturbed, he was not gentle in expressing his opinion.”
With a snort, Enosh traipsed to where Kenan led Eva to the cliff edge. He stretched out a helping hand.
Eva clasped it while Kenan shoved her upward from behind. She scrabbled with her feet and finally flopped down on the plateau with a sigh.
Kenan followed and sat next to his sister.
Three vultures circled high overhead, and the sun continued its descent,tinting the sky with pink edges.
Enosh propped his hands on his hips. “Though I know well enough that blood relatives do not always make good relations, doesn’t your brother care about you? Wouldn’t he assist us if he knew of our need?”
“It is hard to know what Ashkenazi would do. Likely he’d prefer that we fight our own battles—from a distance. He might come to our aid if we were being slaughtered, but what then?”
“Where else can we go?”
Surveying the valley, Hezeki paused in thought. “There’s a clan not three day’s march from here. They’re in a valley between two foothills to the northwest. A pine forest stands there, and they take shelter from thewoods. I once traveled into the territory, and they were very hospitable. They know of Ashkenazi as he used to live not far away. They said that he prefers caves but will make use of any protection when it suits his fancy.”
“So we’ll meet with this clan and ask—”
“We won’t ask for anything. Just being in their territory will make Neb pause. He’ll think we’ve made an alliance. We could live in obscurity, and then move to any land we choose.”
With a smile, Enosh nudged his younger brother. “Time to get moving again, lazybones.”
Eva grimaced as she sat up. “I don’t understand why we had to leave home in the first place. Mother didn’t want me to go.”
“Mother thinks that anyone who displeases Neb is guilty of treachery. Besides, she had plans for you, little sister.” Clenching his jaw, Enosh crouched beside Eva. “You’d little enjoy the match she had planned for you. Believe me;we’re doing you a favor taking you away.”
Eva stood and slapped the dust from her dress. “Into the wilderness?”
“Better the wilderness than slavery.”
“Mother said you aren’t her son anymore. And Neb will find us and curse us.”
Hezeki shuffled between his son and daughter. He looked the girl in the eye. “Your brothers have made their choice, and yours too, whether you like it or not. Neb wants leadership at any cost. Too much of the clan sides with him to stay safely at home. His father, weak as I am, and his brothers are expendable. Do not be so vain to think that you would be exempt if you disagreed with him.”
Kenan laid his hands on Eva’s shoulders and peered into her eyes. “Would you rather be with him or us?”
Eva swallowed and glanced at her father. “Lead on.”
Hezeki straightened his aching back, gripped the staff Enosh held out to himand limped forward.
Chapter Eight
—Wilderness—
Beyond Her Sight
Eva trudged along silently behind her elder brothers, while some of her father’s faithful men marched silently behind her. Hezeki had met his men in the woods at an appointed time, each taking a separate route to confuse Neb and delay any attempt to catch up with them.
Winter winds blew, and the sky was heavy with gray clouds. Large white flakes drifted before her eyes. She brushed stray tears away as anger brought a flush of heat to her cheeks. She did not wish to grieve so much, yet she couldn’t help it. A heavy weight pressed on her chest with each step.
Guilt tugged her heart at leaving her family and people behind. Her mind filled with fury that Neb had made this journey necessary. Why could he not wait until his father had died of whatever ailed him before ascending as leader? What was the advantage of rushing the natural course? She wiped her futile tears away again.
Eva patted the bulging sack slung over her shoulder, grateful that she’d been able to help with the harvest and knew how to pack grains safely. The hide she had tanned herself, and she carried a couple of clay bowls and cups wrapped in her spare dress.
After tracking northward and taking rests in the thick winter forests, they arrived in worn grasslands. In the distance, a forest covered rounded hills and led up into white-capped mountains. Eva’s heart stirred. Something about this vast expanse and the huge mountainous ranges spoke of a power so great and wondrous that joy surged through her. She stared, glorying in the rosy skyline as the sun blinked behind the mountains.
Enosh nudged her forward.
Eva pulled her cloak tight around her body. The weather grew colder as they ranged northward, and the sky turned white with falling snow. The few naked trees that grew upon the edges of streams shivered their foreboding branches in the evening light. She drank in the beauty with her whole being.
Once again, Enosh drew close, disturbing her concentration.
“Eva? You all right?”
“Of course.” She dropped her gaze to her muddy boots.
“Come then. We will lay our blankets under that copse of trees by the creek. There’s shelter from the wind to keep us through the night. Plenty of kindling, so we’ll make a fire. You can wrap up in your blanket. You won’t freeze; don’t worry.”
Eva hid a smile. The cold did not touch her. Her clothing was well made, and she wore layers. The thrill of the magnificent scenery had warmed her blood. “I’m all right. I can walk a little faster if you want.”
Enosh nodded and ran ahead, stepping once more into his father’s footsteps.
Kenan fell back and plodded beside his little sister.
“Are you sure you’re all right? You must feel strange, so far from home.”
Eva bowed her head. “Are you not far from home as well?”
Kenan squared his shoulders. “I’ve been on hunting trips. I know what it is to travel and sleep out in the weather, but this is new for you.” He bumped her shoulder playfully.
Eva stared at the snowy ground. A trail of footprints melted the whiteness into oozing mud. She glanced over her shoulder. A ragged, muddy mess contrasted sadly against the unbroken snow before her. She sighed. “I was sad at leaving, and I’m sorry Mother is angry, but it’s all Neb’s fault.” She peered at her brother. “Perhaps Mother will join us when she realizes what Neb is like.”
Kenan shrugged his pack high over his shoulder. “Mother made her choice, but I fear she’ll never know peace as long as Neb rules.” Dropping silent, they marched side by side as darkness settled into night.
A wolf howled, and distant wolves answered.
Eva stopped, her heart hammering against her chest.
